Chapter 6 - Desperate Measures

Two weeks after Ethan was escorted out of Vance Global in handcuffs, the reality of his downfall began to set in.
He was released on a five-million-dollar bail, funded entirely by mortgaging his private Aspen cabin—the only personal asset the federal government hadn't frozen. Facing multiple felony counts of corporate fraud, embezzlement, and tax evasion, his career in the tech world was completely dead.
I had taken over the corner office on the 50th floor. Working sixteen-hour days alongside Harrison and Arthur, I managed to stabilize Vance Global’s stock prices, secure a massive green-tech government contract, and restore confidence among our international partners.
One rainy evening, as I was finishing up a review of our quarterly reports, my private line rang.
It was an unlisted number. I answered.
“Maya...”
The voice on the other end was high-pitched, hysterical, and broken. It was Chloe.
“Chloe?” I asked, leaning back in my leather executive chair. “How did you get this number?”
“You have to help him, Maya!” Chloe wept into the receiver. “Ethan has lost his mind! He’s been drinking for three days straight! He’s talking about burning down the estate! He took my car and drove toward the farm in Upper New York!”
I sat up straight, my blood running cold.
The Upper New York farm wasn't just corporate property; it was where Vance Global stored its primary secure data servers—the core infrastructure that powered the company’s entire international network.
“Where are you, Chloe?” I asked sharply.
“I’m at the penthouse!” she sobbed. “The marshals came today and served an eviction notice! They’re locking the doors tomorrow! Maya, I’m pregnant! I have nowhere to go! He took all my credit cards! He used me!”
I felt a faint prickle of pity for her, but my focus instantly shifted to the threat at hand. Ethan was desperate, ruined, and cornered. A cornered man with nothing left to lose was capable of total destruction.
May you like
I hung up on Chloe and immediately called estate security and the local state police barracks in Upper New York.
“Arthur, get the driver,” I said into the intercom, grabbing my coat. “Ethan is heading to the server farm.”