Chapter 3 - The War Begins
The morning sun rose over Manhattan, bringing with it a media storm that dominated every business channel and social media platform in the country.
The video recorded by the garden microphone had leaked overnight—not from us, but from one of the hundreds of guests who had uploaded it to TikTok. By 8:00 AM, the hashtag #MudWedding and #HaleHospitality were trending globally.
Stock in Prescott Development plummeted forty percent at the opening bell as news of the canceled merger and forensic audit hit the news wires.
Inside the high-rise office of Prescott Development, Paul Prescott sat behind his desk, pouring a tumbler of straight whiskey despite the early hour. Sitting across from him were Madison and her mother, Cynthia. Madison’s right hand was wrapped in thick bandages from the shattered glass, and her face was red and blotchy from an entire night of screaming matches with Trevor.
"We are ruined, Paul!" Cynthia yelled, pacing across the room. "The banks are calling in our construction loans! The news is calling Madison a corporate thug! Do something!"
"Shut up, Cynthia!" Paul roared, slamming his glass onto the table. He glared at his daughter. "You stupid, arrogant girl! I told you to play the long game! I told you to convince Catherine softly! Why the hell did you touch her?!"
"She was going to call the lawyer, Dad!" Madison yelled back defensively. "She found the forged signature! If I didn't shut her up right then, the whole deal was dead anyway!"
"Well, it's dead now, and so is this company!" Paul spat.
The office door banged open, and Trevor walked in, looking disheveled and frantic. He threw a stack of legal notices onto Paul's desk.
"They evicted me," Trevor panted, his hands shaking. "My dad changed the locks on the penthouse. They froze my bank accounts. They filed a civil suit against me for breach of fiduciary duty!"
Madison stood up, her eyes flashing with anger as she rounded on her new husband. "And what did you do about it, Trevor?! Did you stand up to your father?! Did you demand your inheritance?!"
"Demand my inheritance?!" Trevor shouted back, turning on her. "They built the company, Madison! I own zero shares! You told me you had everything under control! You told me my mother was weak!"
"She is weak!" Madison sneered. "She's an old woman who got lucky thirty years ago!"
"She just erased my entire life in twelve hours!" Trevor screamed back. "And your father’s company is going down with us!"
"Enough!" Paul shouted, standing up and towering over the young couple. He took a deep breath, adjusting his tie, his eyes narrowing into a dangerous, predatory look. "Screaming at each other won't save us. Ray and Catherine think they've won because they caught us off guard."
"Dad, they have the security video," Madison said, her voice dropping into a desperate whisper. "They have the forensic audit."
"Video and audits are for courtrooms," Paul said smoothly, a dark smile spreading across his face. "And courtrooms take years. We have something they need right now."
Trevor blinked. "What are you talking about?"
"The North Shore Development Project," Paul explained, pointing to a massive architectural model sitting in the corner of his office. "Hale Hospitality spent eighty million dollars acquiring the land for their new flagship resort on North Shore. But the zoning permits run through my brother's committee on the district board."
Madison’s eyes lit up with sudden, malicious understanding. "If the zoning permits are revoked..."
"Hale Hospitality loses their eighty million dollar investment and defaults on their construction bonds," Paul finished. He looked at Trevor. "Your mother wants a war? We'll give her one. We'll choke her new resort until she's forced to come to the negotiating table and hand over the company just to save herself."
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Trevor hesitated for a brief second, the image of his mother’s mud-stained, tearless face flashing in his mind. But the thought of losing his wealth, his status, and his pride was too much to bear.
"What do you need me to do?" Trevor asked, leaning over the desk.
