Chapter 5 - The Corporate War
By December twenty-seventh, the fallout from my decisions on Christmas Eve erupted into a full-scale corporate war.
I had rented a large, gated estate in the foothills of Boulder, Colorado, where Cassandra and the twins could settle in safety while I dealt with the wreckage of Prescott Technologies.
The house was surrounded by tall pines and snow-covered peaks, featuring a floor-to-ceiling glass living room that allowed the twins to watch deer walk through the backyard every morning.
I sat at the massive oak dining table in the Boulder house, surrounded by three laptops, a secure satellite phone, and my chief legal counsel, Marcus Vance—an iron-willed attorney who had been my trusted friend since law school.
"Julian has struck back," Vance reported, throwing a legal injunction onto the table. "He filed a civil lawsuit in Delaware federal court yesterday morning, alleging that you breached your fiduciary duty as CEO by intentionally sabotaging the $780 million Merritt Systems acquisition for personal reasons."
I didn't look up from my laptop, where I was reviewing the preliminary blueprints for a new, non-profit medical research foundation.
"Let him file," I said calmly. "What else?"
"He's rallying the institutional shareholders," Vance continued, taking a seat across from me. "He's claiming you've suffered a personal breakdown. He’s calling a special board meeting for January fifth to vote on removing you as Chairman and CEO of Prescott Technologies."
Before I could answer, a loud gurgle echoed from the hallway.
Luke came marching into the dining room wearing a oversized chef's hat that the house cook had given him, holding a plastic wooden spoon like a sword.
"Daddy!" he shouted, running up to my chair. "Look! I am the king of the soup!"
The sharp, aggressive posture I maintained for legal warfare instantly vanished. I leaned down, caught Luke under his arms, and lifted him onto my lap, chef's hat and all.
"The king of the soup?" I asked, tapping his nose with my finger. "That's a very important job, Luke. Have you defended the kitchen from the dragons?"
"Violet is the dragon!" Luke giggled, pointing back toward the hallway, where Violet was currently crawling on all fours, making soft, remarkably convincing roaring noises while wearing a pink blanket as a cape.
Marcus Vance stared at me, his mouth slightly open. He had worked with me for seven years. He had seen me tear down hedge fund managers, negotiate billion-dollar debt restructurings, and fire executives without blinking. He had never seen me wear a crooked chef's hat while letting a toddler drool on my bespoke suit sleeve.
"Damon..." Vance stammered. "Did you hear what I said? They are trying to strip you of your company in eight days."
I adjusted Luke's chef's hat so it didn't cover his eyes, looking up at my attorney with an expression of complete, unshakeable calm.
"Marcus," I said gently. "I own fifty-two percent of the voting shares of Prescott Tech. If Julian wants to stand up in front of the board on January fifth, I will let him speak."
"And then?" Vance asked.
"And then," I replied, a cold, sharp smile touching my lips, "I will present the forensic audit of Julian's offshore accounts showing he took a two-million-dollar kickback from Calder Technologies to facilitate the secret sale of our patents six months ago."
Vance blinked. "You have the forensic audit?"
"I've had it since yesterday afternoon," I said, kissing Luke's dimpled cheek as he tried to put his plastic spoon into my coffee cup. "Julian thought he was the smartest man in the room. He forgot that I built the network architecture he used to hide his money."
Cassandra walked into the dining room, holding two plates of warm pancakes. She looked at Vance, then at me, holding my gaze with a warmth that had been growing steadily over the past three days.
"Is everything okay with the company, Damon?" she asked softly.
May you like
I set Luke down on the floor, watching him run off to join his "dragon" sister in the hallway.
"Everything is fine, Cassie," I said, reaching out to take a plate from her hand. "The company was just a building. This house is where the real work happens."
