Chapter 5 - The Siege of 14th Street
The tenement building on 14th Street sat in the shadow of an elevated train track, its brick exterior grimed with decades of city soot. Fire escapes zigzagged down the crumbling facade like iron scars.
Grant’s dark armored SUV pulled up to the curb, followed immediately by two black suburban vehicles carrying Whitmore corporate security personnel.
As Grant stepped out onto the slush-covered pavement, he saw two men in work jumpsuits carrying a small mattress down the front steps of the building. Behind them came a wooden crate filled with children's toys, a worn winter coat, and a framed photograph of a young man in a military uniform.
It was Rachel Carter’s apartment being cleared out.
A thickset man in a heavy leather jacket stood on the stoop, holding a clipboard and chewing on a toothpick. This was Hector Alvarez.
"Hold it right there," Grant said, his voice cutting through the roar of an overhead train.
Alvarez turned, squinting at the towering man in the bespoke suit approaching him. "Who the hell are you? This is private property. Clear off."
Grant didn't slow down. He walked straight up the stairs, forcing Alvarez to take a step back. Behind Grant, four large, muscular security officers moved into position around the stoop, blocking the men carrying the furniture.
"Put that back inside," Grant ordered the movers.
"Hey! Don't tell my men what to do!" Alvarez shouted, stepping forward aggressively. "Rachel Carter breached her lease! Non-payment of rent and abandonment of property! I’m within my legal rights to clear this unit!"
"She’s in the ICU with pneumonia, you parasite," Grant said, his eyes burning with intense fury. "And her rent was paid through the end of the month out of her automated paycheck deductions."
Alvarez sneered, recognizing Grant’s face from business news broadcasts. "Ah. You’re Whitmore. The big billionaire savior. Let me tell you how the real world works, Mr. Whitmore. This woman signed a labor-housing agreement with NorthStar. She missed her shift last night. That triggered termination. Termination revokes her housing permit. She doesn't live here anymore."
"She doesn't live here anymore because you were starving her on twelve dollars an hour while charging her inflated rent for a slum," Grant said.
Alvarez took out his phone. "I’m calling the police. You’re trespassing."
Arthur Vance stepped out from behind Grant, holding a sealed manila folder. "Go ahead and call them, Mr. Alvarez. In fact, please do. Because inside this folder are the municipal code violations for this building—over forty active citations for lack of heat, lead paint, and unpermitted construction. Along with evidence of extortion and illegal wage garnishment that we filed with the State Attorney General’s office thirty minutes ago."
Alvarez’s hand hovered over his phone. The arrogance on his face began to crumble, replaced by a sudden, nervous sweat.
"You think you can protect her?" Alvarez spat, trying to sound tough. "She owes sixteen hundred dollars in back maintenance fees! I’ll sue her into the ground!"
Grant reached inside his breast pocket, pulled out a personal checkbook and a fountain pen. He wrote a check, tore it off, and slapped it hard against Alvarez’s chest.
"There’s ten thousand dollars," Grant said softly. "Consider her lease paid in full through the end of the year. If you or any of your men come within five hundred feet of Rachel Carter, her children, or her belongings again, I will buy this entire building, demolish it, and dedicate the empty lot as a park in her name—after I send you to state prison."
Alvarez looked down at the check signed by one of the wealthiest men in the city, then at the four imposing security officers standing on his stoop. He swallowed hard and slowly lowered his phone.
"Put her things back inside," Grant commanded the movers.
Without a word, the movers picked up the crate of toys and the mattress and hurried back up the stairs.
May you like
Grant turned to Arthur. "Buy this building. Buy every tenement NorthStar owns in this city. Transfer the deeds into a non-profit trust, lower the rents by half, and make Ruth Delgado the head of the tenant board."
Arthur smiled—a genuine, warm smile. "With pleasure, Grant."
