Chapter 4 - The Desperate Hustle
By afternoon, Derek and Sloane were sitting in a cramped booth at a diner, staring at a laptop screen.
"Every single account is locked," Derek whispered, his hands pulling at his hair. "My personal checking, my savings, the corporate cards... everything is frozen under a court order."
"What about the offshore account in the Caymans?" Sloane asked, her voice sharp and demanding. "You told me you had a safety net!"
"I did! But the routing was tied to the Langford Trust's primary bank as a guarantor!" Derek slammed his fist on the table. "They shut it down. They flagged it for suspicious activity. I have three thousand dollars in cash, Sloane. That's it."
Sloane’s eyes coldened. "Three thousand dollars? Derek, my rent on my apartment is four thousand a month! The lease on my sports car is due next week!"
"We need to find a investor," Derek said, trying to convince himself. "There are people who hate Charles Langford. People who want a piece of his market share. I know the logistics business inside and out. If I can get a meeting with the Sterling Group, they might fund a competitor."
He grabbed his phone and dialed a number.
"Marcus Sterling, please. This is Derek Callahan."
A pause.
"What do you mean, he's not available? Tell him it's urgent."
Another pause. Derek’s face fell.
"He said what?"
Derek slowly lowered the phone. "Sterling’s secretary said they don't do business with domestic abusers or bankrupt frauds. Charles already called them."
Sloane stood up, grabbing her designer handbag—the one I had paid for. "I can't do this, Derek. I didn't sign up for this."
"Sloane, wait!" Derek grabbed her wrist. "We are partners! You said we were going to build an empire together!"
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"An empire requires money, Derek," Sloane said, tearing her arm away from his grip. "Right now, you're just a liability."
She turned and walked out of the diner, leaving Derek alone with a lukewarm cup of coffee and a mountain of ruin.
