Chapter 4 - The War on the Waterfront
By Monday morning, the media storm had broken exactly as Nadia had predicted. The front pages of San Francisco’s business journals showed a split image: Caleb Foster leaving the hotel with Zara, and Vanessa Whitman standing alone under the ivory arch. The headlines were brutal: “RENEWABLE ROYALTY RUINED: FOSTER CANCELEDS WEDDING MID-CEREMONY.”
In the executive offices of Foster Energy overlooking the Embarcadero, the atmosphere was tense. The board of directors had gathered in the main conference room, their faces grim as they reviewed the market indicators. The Whitman family had launched a counter-offensive, filing a fifty-million-dollar lawsuit for breach of contract and defamation.
Caleb stood at the glass window, looking out at the gray waters of the bay. He had not slept in forty-eight hours, but his eyes were clear, his posture straight.
“The Whitman group is trying to block our permit approvals for the new offshore wind array in Marin County,” Marcus said, entering the room with a stack of legal briefs. “They own three members of the coastal commission, Caleb. If they delay the vote by more than thirty days, our federal tax credits expire. We’ll lose a hundred and twenty million dollars in capital.”
“They think they can starve us out,” Caleb said, not turning around. “They think because they have ninety years of political connections in this city, they own the dirt we build on.”
“Arthur Whitman just called,” Marcus added, referring to Vanessa’s father, the patriarch of the family fortune. “He wants a private meeting. He says if you sign a public apology statement and reinstate the corporate merger, they will drop the lawsuit and allow Vanessa to go to a ‘private wellness clinic’ for her anger issues. He wants to save the family name, Caleb.”
Caleb turned slowly, his expression cold enough to freeze the room. “Tell Arthur Whitman that his daughter belongs in a courtroom, not a wellness clinic. And tell him that if he uses his connections on the coastal commission to delay my permits, I will release the complete audit logs of the Whitman Foundation’s offshore accounts.”
Marcus stared at him, startled. “The offshore accounts? Caleb, we’ve been investigating those for two years for the joint venture. If we leak those now, it will destroy their bank valuation. But it will also hurt our own stock in the short term.”
“I don't care about the short term,” Caleb said, walking over to his desk and picking up his coat. “I’m going to the hospital to bring Nadia and Zara to my house in Napa. The press is already harassing them at their apartment in Oakland. I want them inside the security perimeter before the afternoon editions hit.”
May you like
“Caleb…” Marcus hesitated. “Are you sure about this? People are going to think there was something between you and Nadia before the wedding. They’re going to say you used the assault as an excuse to run away with her.”
Caleb stopped at the door, his eyes narrowing. “Let them think what they want, Marcus. Nadia Carter has more integrity in her little finger than the entire Whitman family has in their vaults. If protecting her costs me a hundred million dollars, then it’s the cheapest lesson I’ve ever bought.”
