Chapter 4 - The Escalation
The boardroom on the top floor of the Thorne Tower was lined with mahogany paneling and floor-to-ceiling glass offering a panoramic view of the city sky.
Desmond Thorne sat at the head of the long glass table, surrounded by six board members, two senior accountants, and Preston Vance. They were in the middle of reviewing the quarterly projections for the new downtown commercial plaza—a fifty-million-dollar deal that would solidify Desmond’s legacy.
"The municipal permits are fully secured," Preston was saying, tapping a laser pointer against a projected chart. "We expect ground breaking to begin early next spring, provided the tax abatement goes through as planned."
The double oak doors at the end of the room swung open without warning.
Desmond’s executive secretary, a pale woman in her fifties, rushed in, her face drained of color. "Mr. Thorne, I tried to stop him—"
Before she could finish, a tall man in a dark grey suit stepped past her. It was a process server holding a thick blue envelope.
"Desmond Thorne?" the man asked loudly, his voice echoing across the boardroom.
Desmond’s eyes narrowed into fierce slits. "What is the meaning of this? Get out of my office."
The process server walked straight to the head of the table, dropped the heavy blue envelope directly onto Desmond’s financial projections, and turned on his heel. "You've been served, Mr. Thorne. Have a nice day."
Silence fell over the boardroom. The board members exchanged anxious glances.
Preston immediately stepped forward, pulling the documents from the envelope. His eyes scanned the cover page, and his face turned instantly gray.
"Preston," Desmond growled, his voice deep and dangerous. "What is that nonsense?"
Preston swallowed hard, his throat making a audible clicking sound. "It’s... it’s a summons, Desmond. From the County Superior Court."
"On what grounds?"
"Fraud," Preston whispered, leaning closer so the rest of the board wouldn't hear, though his trembling voice betrayed him. "An emergency motion for forensic financial discovery and an immediate freeze on all corporate distributions belonging to Thorne Enterprises."
Desmond slammed his heavy hand onto the glass table, making the water glasses rattle. "Who filed it?"
Preston looked up, his eyes wide with disbelief. "Lynn. Represented by... by my uncle Arthur."
Desmond froze. A dark, terrifying crimson flushed up his neck, saturating his face. "Lynn? She’s suing me?"
"She isn't just suing you, Desmond," Preston stammered, turning to the second page. "She’s challenging the nineteen ninety-six estate settlement of Eleanor Thorne. She’s claiming thirty-five percent equity ownership of the entire corporate portfolio... and she’s filed an injunction to halt the downtown commercial plaza deal."
The boardroom erupted into hushed, panic-stricken chatter. The board members immediately leaned toward each other, whispering furiously. The downtown plaza deal was heavily reliant on clean corporate titling; any lingering litigation involving primary equity shares would freeze bank financing instantly.
Desmond stood up slowly, his towering frame casting a dark shadow over the table. He didn't look at his board members. He didn't look at the projected charts.
He picked up his phone, speed-dialed a number, and waited.
Across town, in her tiny kitchen, Lynn watched her phone vibrate on the table. The caller ID read: DESMOND THORNE.
She didn't answer. She let it ring until it went to voicemail.
Ten seconds later, her phone vibrated again. A text message popped up on the screen from Margarite.
Are you insane? the text read. You are going to ruin Dad’s entire deal! Stop this embarrassing temper tantrum right now or I swear to God, Preston will destroy you in court! You won't get a single penny!
May you like
Lynn looked at the message, her face completely expressionless. She picked up her phone, typed three words, and pressed send:
See you in court.
