Chapter 5 - The Glass Tower
On Monday morning, the seventy-fifth floor of the Robertson Global Tower in downtown Chicago offered a breathtaking, panoramic view of Lake Michigan.
The sky was clear, brilliant blue, and cold.
I sat in a high-backed burgundy leather armchair in my father’s corner office. My pain was managed, my strength was slowly returning, and Leo was sleeping peacefully in a portable bassinet beside my desk, wearing a hand-knit cashmere onesie.
Standing around the glass conference table were six of the most powerful corporate litigation lawyers in the country, led by Arthur Vance.
"The trap is completely sprung, Hailey," Arthur reported, laying out a series of financial charts across the glass. "When Jasper was removed as CEO, his personal guarantees on the six-million-dollar commercial line of credit at First National automatically matured. Since his personal assets are frozen, the bank has initiated immediate foreclosure proceedings against his remaining personal holdings."
"What about his mother and sister?" I asked quietly, taking a sip of warm herbal tea.
"Gillian Vance’s luxury townhome in Naperville was purchased using a mortgage that Jasper co-signed using fraudulent corporate revenue statements from Vance Innovations," Arthur explained, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "The lender was notified of the misrepresentation this morning. They have issued an acceleration clause. She has thirty days to pay the full balance of four hundred and fifty thousand dollars, or the property goes to public auction."
I looked down at Leo. He opened his tiny dark eyes, let out a soft yawn, and stretched his little fingers.
For two years, I had shrunk myself. I had stayed silent when Gillian criticized my cooking. I had apologized when Chloe complained about the room I prepared for her when she stayed over. I had convinced myself that submission was the price of keeping a marriage together.
I looked up at my father, who was standing by the floor-to-ceiling window, a cigar unlit between his fingers.
"He called eighteen times this weekend, Dad," I said softly.
"I know," Finnley replied without turning around. "He called my office forty times. He even attempted to bribe the security guard at the front gate of the Gold Coast estate with a vintage watch."
"Did you speak to him?"
"I don't speak to insects, Hailey," my father said, turning around, his eyes burning with intense pride as he looked at me. "You are my daughter. You carry the blood of people who built bridges across oceans and sky-scrapers across continents. You allowed a weak man to play king in your shadow, but the shadow has moved. Now he faces the sun."
The intercom on my father's desk chimed.
"Mr. Robertson," his executive secretary announced. "Mr. Jasper Vance is in the main lobby on the ground floor. He does not have an appointment, and security is preparing to escort him off the premises, but he is screaming that he will not leave until he sees Mrs. Robertson."
I looked at Arthur. "Is the restraining order active?"
"It was signed by Judge Vance an hour ago," Arthur confirmed. "He is currently in violation of a court order simply by being in this building."
I stood up slowly, smoothing the fabric of my dark blue wool dress.
"Bring him up," I said into the intercom.
May you like
My father turned his head, eyebrow raised. "Are you sure, sweetheart? You don't need to face him."
"I do, Dad," I said, my voice steady, clear, and without a single trace of hesitation. "Five days ago, I walked onto a bus because he thought I was nothing. Today, I want him to look at what nothing looks like when it stands up."
