Chapter 2 - The First Crack in the Glass Tower
Back at the Hayes family estate,
the morning sun beat down mercilessly on the manicured lawns and towering white pillars.
Trevor walked into the executive dining room,
expecting his usual plate of artisan avocado toast and freshly squeezed grapefruit juice.
Instead,
he found his mother,
Eleanor Hayes,
sitting at the head of the long mahogany table,
frowning at an empty plate.
Where is Elena?
Eleanor demanded,
her voice sharp enough to cut glass.
She didn't make breakfast,
Trevor muttered,
pulling out a chair and loosening his silk tie.
I told her this morning that we are getting a divorce,
and she packed her things and left.
Eleanor froze,
her silver fork hovering inches from her teacup.
She left?
Just like that?
Without making a fuss,
or crying,
or begging to stay?
Trevor chuckled dismissively,
spreading his hands in a gesture of absolute arrogance.
Mother,
you know how pathetic she is.
She took one battered suitcase and the baby,
and walked out into the dirt roads without a single penny to her name.
She probably thinks she can survive on welfare or move back in with some distant relative.
Eleanor narrowed her eyes,
not sharing her son's casual amusement.
She was too quiet,
Trevor,
Eleanor muttered,
setting her teacup down with a sharp clatter against the saucer.
For three years,
that girl never complained,
never asked for spending money,
and never went out with friends.
People who don't react are either broken,
or they are plotting.
Trevor scoffed,
pouring himself a cup of lukewarm coffee from the silver pot.
Plotting what?
An accountant from a bankrupt family with no connections and no savings?
What could she possibly do to us?
We own half of this state's real estate,
our law firm has judges in its pocket,
and our bank accounts are untouchable.
Before Eleanor could voice her lingering doubts,
the heavy oak doors of the dining room flew open.
Trevor's younger brother,
Julian,
stumbled inside,
his face pale as a sheet,
his phone gripped tightly in his trembling hand.
Trevor,
Julian gasped for air,
his eyes darting frantically between his mother and his brother.
We have a massive problem.
Trevor didn't even bother to look up from his coffee cup.
What is it now, Julian?
Did the stock price drop by a fraction of a percent?
It's not the stock price,
Julian stammered,
dropping his phone onto the breakfast table like it was burning hot.
All of our corporate operating accounts have been frozen by federal order.
The dining room fell into an eerie, suffocating silence.
Trevor’s coffee cup stopped halfway to his lips.
Frozen?
What do you mean frozen?
That's impossible.
I authorized a wire transfer to Zurich just an hour ago,
and it bounced back with an emergency injunction stamp.
Julian collapsed into an empty chair,
his hands shaking uncontrollably.
It's not just the operating accounts,
Trevor.
The personal trusts,
the offshore holdings,
and the real estate escrow accounts have all been locked down by the Department of Justice.
Eleanor stood up so fast her chair screeched against the hardwood floor.
Locked down under what authority?
Julian swallowed hard,
his throat dry.
Under a federal whistleblower fraud investigation,
backed by forensic accounting documents that detail millions in embezzlement and tax evasion.
Trevor slowly stood up,
his face draining of all color.
Who filed it?
Julian looked straight at Trevor,
his voice trembling with dread.
The initial complaint lists an anonymous former corporate insider,
backed by signed affidavits and primary-source bank ledgers.
Trevor’s mind raced back to just an hour ago,
when he had watched me walk out the front door with a single battered suitcase.
May you like
His smug smile vanished completely,
replaced by a creeping, suffocating terror.
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