Chapter 7 - The Social Gallows
Daniel stared at the card on his desk, his vision blurring with rage and helplessness.
“Arthur Vance,” Daniel whispered.
“The Vance family attorney.”
“Claire hired the most expensive divorce litigator in Chicago ninety days ago?”
Arthur Vance offered a thin, professional smile that did not touch his gray eyes.
“Claire didn’t hire me ninety days ago, Daniel.”
“She retained my services eighteen months ago, when you first began altering the firm’s quarterly profit-sharing allocations.”
Daniel felt the blood drain from his face once more.
Eighteen months.
He had thought his gradual diversion of funds had gone completely unnoticed.
He had used those funds to buy his luxury watches, his sports car, and his discreet weekend getaways.
“Claire gave you eighteen months to remember who you were,” Arthur said, his tone devoid of cruelty, which made it far worse.
“She gave you eighteen months of quiet dinners, patient conversations, and opportunities to confess.”
“You chose to interpret her patience as blindness.”
“She set a trap for me!” Daniel yelled, slamming his hand onto the desk.
“No, Daniel,” Arthur replied smoothly.
“She simply stopped preventing you from digging your own grave.”
Arthur opened his briefcase and pulled out a manila folder.
“Tonight is the annual Chicago Children’s Foundation Gala at the Drake Hotel.”
Daniel’s head snapped up.
He was the co-chair of the event; he was scheduled to give the keynote address on corporate philanthropy at eight o’clock.
“I am speaking tonight,” Daniel said, clutching onto that singular remaining pillar of his public status.
“The mayor will be there. The entire commercial banking sector will be there.”
Arthur Vance shook his head slowly.
“Claire is the primary patron of that foundation, Daniel.”
“The Mercer family table has already been re-registered under her maiden name.”
“Your name has been removed from the program by the executive committee.”
“You can’t do that!” Daniel shouted, his voice cracking into a desperate shriek.
“I raised four hundred thousand dollars for that charity!”
“Using company funds that are currently under forensic review for fraud,” Arthur countered calmly.
“If you appear at the Drake Hotel tonight, the board of directors will have private security escort you off the premises.”
“Claire requested that I inform you privately so you could avoid public humiliation.”
“She is more merciful than you deserve, Mr. Mercer.”
Arthur Vance picked up his briefcase, nodded once, and walked out of the study.
Daniel sat in the empty room as the afternoon light faded into darkness.
He refused to believe it.
He refused to accept that a woman he had dismissed as docile and dependent had dismantled his entire social standing in twenty-four hours.
He went to his closet, pulled out his custom tuxedo, and dressed with frantic speed.
He checked his reflection in the bathroom mirror: his eyes were bloodshot, his skin pale, but he straightened his black bow tie with fierce defiance.
He would show them.
He would walk into the Drake Hotel, take his seat at the head table, and prove that Daniel Mercer was not a man to be erased.
He drove into the city at seven o'clock, the rain falling in sheets against the dark buildings.
When he arrived at the Drake Hotel, the red carpet was covered by a long white tent.
Photographers were flashing bulbs as Chicago’s elite stepped out of town cars and limousines.
Daniel stepped out into the cold rain, squared his shoulders, and walked toward the entrance.
As he reached the velvet ropes, two burly men in black security suits stepped directly into his path.
“Good evening, Mr. Mercer,” the older security guard said quietly.
“I’m sorry, sir, but your name is not on the guest roster tonight.”
Around him, three prominent corporate executives and their wives turned their heads, watching the scene with wide, predatory eyes.
A photographer lowered his camera, his face filling with recognition.
Daniel saw the pity and malicious delight in the faces of his peers.
The whispers began instantly, passing down the line like wildfire.
And across the lobby, through the tall glass doors, Daniel saw Claire.
She wore an emerald-green silk gown with diamond drop earrings.
She was laughing softly with the Chief Justice of the Illinois Appellate Court.
She did not turn around to look at the entrance.
May you like
She did not need to see him turned away at the door.
She already knew the gates were shut forever.
