Chapter 3 - The Gathering of the Leeches
By 8:00 AM the following morning, the lobby of my corporate headquarters—Mercer Global Logistics, occupying the top three floors of a glass skyscraper in downtown Chicago—was effectively under siege.
When my private elevator opened on the forty-second floor, my executive assistant, Chloe, met me holding a stack of urgent memos and a large iced coffee.
"They’ve been downstairs since seven-thirty, Ms. Mercer," Chloe reported, her voice low. "Your father, your brother Peter, your sister-in-law Karen, and your Uncle Bob. Security wouldn't let them past the turnstiles because their executive guest passes were revoked at midnight."
"Are they making a scene?" I asked, walking past the rows of busy cubicles where my staff were already hard at work.
"Your father tried to scream at the desk guard, claiming he owned the building," Chloe said, suppressing a small smile. "Security Chief Vance informed him that his name wasn't on the lease and threatened to have the Chicago Police Department escort him off the premises for trespassing."
I took a sip of my coffee, feeling a cold, refreshing sense of clarity fill my chest. "Let them up."
Chloe blinked. "All of them?"
"In the main boardroom," I said. "And call Arthur down from the legal department. It's time for our annual performance review."
Five minutes later, the double oak doors of the master conference room swung open.
My biological family spilled into the luxurious room like a group of displaced survivors. Gregory looked haggard, his eyes bloodshot, wearing the same wrinkled linen shirt from the day before. Peter looked panicked, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, while Karen looked like she was on the verge of tears.
"Lauren!" Gregory roared, marching toward the head of the twenty-foot mahogany table where I sat. "Have you lost your mind?! I spent three hours last night trying to buy groceries, and my card was declined! The cashier looked at me like I was a common thief!"
"You aren't a common thief, Dad," I said smoothly, not even standing up. "Common thieves usually have to take risks to steal. You just sat on your patio and let me write you checks."
"Lauren, please!" Karen broke in, her voice shrill and desperate as she sat down across from me. "Peter told me about the notice we got on our townhouse! Thirty days?! We have three children! Where are we supposed to go?!"
"I suggest somewhere within Peter's actual salary range," I replied, looking directly at my brother. "Peter, you make eighty-five thousand dollars a year as a junior logistics manager at this firm—a job I created for you because you failed your real estate licensing exam twice."
Peter’s face flushed bright red. "I'm your brother, Lauren! You have millions! You make ten million dollars a year from the corporate contracts! Why does it hurt you to help your own flesh and blood?!"
"Because my flesh and blood stood silently while an old man struck my son," I said, slamming my coffee cup onto the marble coaster with a crack that made Karen flinch.
The room fell completely silent.
"You all sat there," I whispered, my voice laced with a fury so cold it turned the room to ice. "You watched my father hit a seventeen-year-old child. You watched him rip up his scholarship letter. Not one of you said, 'Dad, stop.' Not one of you stepped between them. Why? Because you were terrified that if you defended Eli, Gregory would get mad at you, or I would stop writing the checks."
Gregory slammed his fist onto the table. "He is an adopted charity case! You brought a street kid into this family and expected us to treat him like a true heir!"
Arthur Vance stepped into the boardroom from the side door, holding a thick black leather folder.
"Gregory," Arthur said calmly, "I strongly advise you to choose your words with extreme caution. Under Illinois law, verbal harassment combined with your physical assault yesterday constitutes grounds for an immediate civil protection order, which we have already drafted."
Arthur opened the folder and slid four separate legal documents across the glossy table.
"What is this?" Uncle Bob asked, his voice trembling as he picked up his page.
"Those are the formal terms of your severance from Mercer Global," Arthur explained. "Lauren is executing a complete corporate restructuring. Effective 9:00 AM today:
Gregory Mercer’s consultant retainer of $144,000 annually is terminated with cause.
Peter Mercer’s employment contract is terminated due to corporate insolvency restructuring.
The lease on Uncle Bob’s commercial fleet is canceled, requiring the immediate surrender of six heavy transport trucks by Friday.
The family educational trust funding Karen’s children is restructured to require full repayment of unearned dividends over the last three fiscal years."
Karen let out a loud gasp, her hands flying to her mouth. "Repayment?! We don't have that money! We spent it on our summer home in Michigan!"
"Then I suggest you list the summer home on the market today," I said, standing up from my leather executive chair.
Gregory stared at me, his body shaking with a terrifying mixture of rage and sudden, absolute powerlessness. "You can't do this, Lauren. I am your father! I gave you life!"
"And I paid you back with twelve years of luxury," I said, walking toward the boardroom doors. "The debt is settled, Dad. You have twenty-nine days to pack your things and leave my house."
"I’ll sue you!" Gregory screamed after me, his voice cracking with hysteria. "I’ll take you to court! I’ll tell the press that the big billionaire CEO left her elderly father homeless on the streets!"
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I stopped at the doorway, looking back over my shoulder with a cold, mocking smile.
"Please do, Dad," I whispered. "I have the security footage from the patio camera. I’m sure the local news would love to see a billionaire’s father slapping a high school senior on camera before getting evicted. Have a wonderful morning, everyone."
