Chapter 5 - The War Room
Forty-eight hours after the summons was served, the high-rise offices of Vance & Vance Legal Corporate sat lit like a flare in the night sky.
Inside the main conference room, takeout food boxes and coffee cups littered the long table. Preston Vance was pacing back and forth, his tie loosened, his hair disheveled. Across from him sat Margarite, her arms crossed tightly, her designer boots clicking rhythmically against the carpet in an irritated cadence.
At the head of the table sat Desmond, silent and motionless, staring out the window at the city lights below.
"Arthur isn't bluffing," Preston said, slamming a file down onto the table. "I talked to his paralegal this morning. They have Eleanor’s original handwritten ledgers from nineteen ninety-two. If those enter public record, the press will eat us alive. The Thorne Foundation will lose its tax-exempt status within a month."
"Then declare them fake!" Margarite snapped, her voice high and sharp. "Say Lynn forged them! She’s desperate for money! Everyone knows she’s broke! Her husband died and left her with nothing!"
"It’s not that simple, Margarite!" Preston shot back, turning on his wife. "The handwriting matches Eleanor’s. And more importantly, Arthur filed a subpoena for the original 1996 bank transfer records from the offshore accounts in Grand Cayman. Do you remember those accounts? The ones your name was put on when you were thirteen?"
Margarite went pale. "Dad said those were legally scrubbed ten years ago!"
"Scrubbed from our internal servers, yes," Preston said, lowering his voice. "But the federal banking system keeps archival backups for thirty years under anti-money laundering statutes. If Arthur gets a federal judge to sign off on that subpoena, those records will show that two million dollars was transferred from Eleanor’s personal trust into your holding account six weeks after she died!"
Desmond turned slowly from the window. His face was cold, impassive, carved from stone. "Lynn doesn't have the stomach for a public trial. She’s weak. She’s always been weak."
"She’s not acting like she's weak, Dad!" Margarite spat, her knuckles white. "She ignored your calls! She shut down the plaza deal funding this morning! The bank called Preston and pulled the loan commitment until the title dispute is resolved!"
Desmond walked over to the table, leaning his heavy hands on the wood. "Then we offer her a settlement. A quiet, private settlement with a non-disclosure agreement that locks her mouth shut forever."
"How much?" Preston asked carefully.
"Five hundred thousand," Desmond said coldly. "That’s more money than she’s ever seen in her life. It will pay off her house, buy her kids some decent clothes, and make her go away."
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Margarite gasped. "Five hundred thousand dollars? Dad, you can't give her half a million dollars for throwing a tantrum!"
"Shut up, Margarite!" Desmond boomed, his voice shaking the room. "Five hundred thousand is peanuts compared to losing the fifty-million-dollar plaza deal! Preston, draft the settlement agreement tonight. Set up a meeting at Arthur’s office tomorrow afternoon. Make it clear to Lynn that if she doesn't take this offer, we will counter-sue her for tortious interference and litigate her into complete bankruptcy."
