Chapter 3 - The Company That Was Never Really His
After my speech, Blake pushed through the crowd toward me.
He reached the edge of the stage just as the event director announced the first donation pledge.
Fairchild Capital was committing twenty-five million dollars to coastal housing, local disaster relief, and small-business recovery programs.
The ballroom erupted in applause.
Blake did not clap.
“Elara,” he said sharply. “We need to talk.”
I looked at him.
“Yes,” I replied. “We do.”
My attorney, Mr. Hayes, joined us with a leather folder under his arm.
Blake looked at him, then at me.
“You own Fairchild Capital?”
“My family owns it,” I said. “I chair it.”
“You lied to me.”
The accusation was almost impressive.
I looked toward Sloane, standing several feet away with Lenette and Corinne.
“You told me you were at a business meeting while you were staying at a hotel with her,” I said. “You told investors you personally secured financing you did not understand. You told your family this mansion belonged to you. And tonight, you brought your mistress to an event funded by your wife.”
Blake’s jaw tightened.
“This is not the place.”
“No,” I said. “The place was our kitchen. The place was our home. The place was when your mother insulted me, your sister laughed, and you looked at me as if I was beneath you.”
His eyes flickered.
“I was angry.”
“You were arrogant.”
Mr. Hayes opened the folder.
“Mr. Winslow, Fairchild Capital has exercised its rights under the investment agreements governing Winslow Development.”
Blake stared at him.
“What?”
“The firm holds the majority of your company’s senior debt,” Mr. Hayes continued. “Under the debt-conversion provision, triggered by the compliance violations identified this evening, Fairchild Capital now controls fifty-eight percent of Winslow Development voting shares.”
Sloane stepped closer.
“What compliance violations?”
Mr. Hayes handed Blake a document.
“Unauthorized personal expenditures through corporate accounts. False vendor contracts. Misrepresentation of financing. And the use of company resources to support non-business travel and private accommodations.”
Blake looked at the pages.
His face changed as he read.
The hotel charges.
The luxury purchases.
The monthly payments to Sloane’s apartment.
The money he had claimed went toward employee bonuses and project expenses.
Sloane saw her own name on the document.
“You told me those were approved,” she whispered.
Blake looked at her.
“They were business expenses.”
“No,” I said. “They were stolen funds.”
Lenette pushed forward, her voice shaking with anger.
“This is outrageous. My son built that company.”
I held her gaze.
“No. Your son inherited a failing company. I gave it time, capital, and protection because I loved him.”
“You would destroy your own husband?”
I looked down at the folder in Blake’s hands.
“I am not destroying him. I am ending the protection he believed he deserved.”
Corinne began filming again.
But this time, her hands were shaking.
“Turn that off,” Blake snapped.
May you like
She lowered the phone.
The man who wanted cameras when he looked powerful suddenly could not bear them.
