Chapter 2 - The Empty Nest
Grant’s Gulfstream G650 touched down at Zurich Airport fourteen hours later.
He hadn't slept a wink during the flight. He had spent the entire transatlantic journey pacing the cabin, pounding scotch, and screaming at his board of directors over a satellite phone. The news of Avery’s share sale had already leaked to Wall Street. Calloway Global stock had dropped seven percent in after-hours trading as investors panicked over the sudden instability in the controlling ownership.
When Grant stepped out of the private terminal, three dark SUVs were waiting for him. He sped through the streets of Zurich directly to the private banking office of Laurent & Cie on Bahnhofstrasse.
He stormed through the glass doors, flanked by four of his personal bodyguards, ignoring the receptionist who tried to stop him.
"Where is Henri Laurent?!" Grant demanded, slamming his palm onto the mahogany reception desk.
An inner door opened, and Henri Laurent walked out, impeccably dressed in a charcoal three-piece suit. He showed no surprise at the sight of the enraged American billionaire.
"Mr. Calloway," Laurent said politely, bowing his head slightly. "You are making quite a scene in my lobby. Please lower your voice."
"Don't give me that Swiss manners garbage!" Grant shouted, stepping into Laurent's personal space. "My wife is here. I know she transferred one point four billion dollars through your firm. Where is she?!"
"Mrs. Calloway was indeed a client of this bank," Laurent replied smoothly, walking behind his desk and gesturing for Grant to take a seat. Grant remained standing, his fists clenched at his sides. "However, I am bound by Swiss banking privacy laws. I cannot confirm her current location, her financial transactions, or her itinerary."
"She committed fraud!" Grant lied, his jaw clenching. "She stole those shares from my family's trust! I have a team of federal lawyers filing an emergency injunction in Los Angeles right now!"
Laurent pulled a pristine white document from a leather folder and slid it across the desk toward Grant.
"You may save your legal fees, Mr. Calloway," Laurent said calmly. "This is a certified copy of your own prenuptial agreement, signed by you and witnessed by your late father three years ago. Paragraph 14, Clause B clearly states that the three-percent equity grant was an absolute, irrevocable gift to Avery Whitmore upon the solemnization of your marriage, free of any claim or trust encumbrance."
Grant stared down at his own signature at the bottom of the page. The blue ink looked like a sneer.
"She played you, Mr. Calloway," Laurent added, his tone cool and indifferent. "While you were focused on your personal affairs in San Diego, Mrs. Calloway legally executed her rights as an independent shareholder. The sale is final. The funds are legally her property."
"Where did she go?" Grant demanded, his eyes bloodshot. "Tell me where she went, or I will pull every Calloway Global corporate account out of Switzerland!"
Laurent smiled faintly—a smile that communicated total, unbothered power. "Mr. Calloway, Calloway Global does not hold accounts with us. But even if you did, you no longer hold majority control of your own firm. I suggest you check the morning financial news before you make threats you cannot enforce."
Grant turned on his heel and stormed out of the bank.
Inside the back of his SUV, Noah was waiting, holding a phone with a pale, terrified expression.
"What now?!" Grant snapped, pulling off his tie.
"Sir... Brooke is on the line from San Diego," Noah whispered. "She's hysterical."
Grant snatched the phone. "What is it, Brooke? I told you I'm busy!"
"Grant!" Brooke screamed through the speaker, her voice shrill and laced with sob-filled rage. "Where are you?! You left me alone at the hospital! The press is outside taking photos of the guards! And your mother just showed up at the suite!"
Grant rubbed his temples. "My mother?"
"She told the nurses that I am nothing but a low-class opportunist!" Brooke wailed. "She said the Calloway family will never recognize this baby as an heir until Avery signs the divorce papers! She told the guards to clear out! Grant, do something! I am the mother of your son!"
"Brooke, shut up!" Grant yelled into the phone, his patience completely exhausted. "I am dealing with a one-and-a-half-billion-dollar disaster! Stay in the room and stop making noise!"
He slammed the phone down onto the leather seat.
He thought back to Avery—quiet, graceful Avery. In three years of marriage, she had never raised her voice. She had never asked him for money, never made a scene at a party, never demanded designer clothes, and never complained when he stayed out late with Brooke. She had lived in his house like a ghost, serving him tea, hosting his business dinners, and accepting his coldness without a single tear.
He had thought she was weak. He had thought she stayed because she loved his money and his status.
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Now he realized the terrifying truth: she hadn't stayed because she was weak. She had stayed because she was waiting for the exact moment when her departure would destroy him.
"Find her," Grant whispered to Noah, his voice cracking with a terrifying mix of anger and obsession. "Hire every private intelligence firm in Europe. I don't care if it costs fifty million dollars. Find where Avery is hiding."
