Chapter 7 - The LockoutMonday morning. 8:15 AM.
I was sitting in the leather chair at the head of the boardroom table, sipping a black coffee. The panoramic windows of Parker Landscaping Holdings offered a sprawling view of the Chicago skyline.
The glass doors to the reception area burst open. I didn't need to look up to know who it was. The heavy, frantic footsteps of Jason Parker were unmistakable.
“Where the hell is she?!” Jason’s voice echoed down the corridor, startling the receptionist.
“Mr. Parker, you can’t go back there, your badge is deactivated—”
“I own this damn company!” he roared, shoving past the glass partition.
He stormed into the boardroom, looking like absolute hell. He was wearing the same clothes from the lake house, wrinkled and smelling faintly of stale whiskey and campfire smoke. Right behind him was Linda, looking equally disheveled, her usually perfect hair frizzy and unkempt.
“You!” Jason pointed a trembling finger at me. “You locked me out of the house! My key didn’t work! The alarm went off, and the police almost arrested me on my own front porch!”
I took a slow sip of my coffee. “I didn't lock you out, Jason. The bank did.”
Linda marched forward, slapping her hands on the mahogany table. “Megan, this tantrum has gone far enough! Jason had to sleep on my couch last night! Do you have any idea how humiliating this is for him? For us? Turn the company cards back on right now. My grocery card declined at Whole Foods this morning!”
I stared at her, feeling a dark, satisfying amusement. “Your grocery card? You mean the corporate expense account you’ve been illegally using to buy organic produce and fund your weekly spa days for the last four years?”
Linda’s face drained of color. “That... that is family money!”
“No, Linda,” Marcus said, stepping out from the corner of the room, holding a thick leather binder. “That is corporate fraud. According to the audit we completed last week, you have misappropriated over eighty thousand dollars of company funds. Funds that my client, Mrs. Parker, personally injected into the business to keep it from going bankrupt three years ago.”
Jason froze, looking between me and Marcus. “What audit? What are you talking about? I’m the CEO!”
“You were the CEO,” I corrected gently. “But since you used company assets as collateral for your personal gambling debts, and considering you’ve been entirely reliant on the capital I provided, the board held an emergency remote vote at 6:00 AM today.”
Jason scoffed, a desperate, breathless laugh. “The board? The board is my Uncle David, my frat brother Steve, and you. You can’t outvote me!”
I smiled, sliding a document across the polished wood. “Uncle David sold me his shares two months ago to pay for his daughter’s Ivy League tuition. Steve sold his to me last week when I showed him the ledgers of you stealing from his division. I now own 82% of this company, Jason.”
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Jason stared at the paper. His eyes widened as the reality crashed down on him.
“You’re trespassing on my property,” I said, my voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. “Security is on their way up. I suggest you both leave before I have you escorted out in handcuffs.”
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