Chapter 4 - The Real World in Austin
The morning sun over the Texas Hill Country didn't look anything like Indiana’s bruised sky. It was brilliant, blinding, and warm enough to leave the balcony doors cracked open to the scent of cedar and limestone.
Lucia Brennan stood on the third-floor terrace of her home in Westlake Hills, looking down at the emerald curve of the Colorado River below. She was wearing a simple gray cashmere sweater, faded denim, and no shoes. Her hair was pulled back into an efficient, low knot.
In her right hand, she held a porcelain mug of black coffee.
From inside the house, the sound of laughter drifted through the open glass.
"No, Auntie Cam, the blue blocks go on the bottom because the castle needs water under the drawbridge!"
"Ellie, if we put the blue blocks on the bottom, the entire structural integrity of the north tower collapses. Did your mother teach you nothing about load distribution?"
"Cameron," Lucia called out, not turning around, a faint smile touching her lips. "She’s five. Let her build the moat."
Cameron Vance walked out onto the terrace holding a tablet, a pair of wireless earbuds resting around his neck. He looked at Lucia over the rim of his tortoiseshell glasses.
"She’s already negotiating better than our enterprise clients in Frankfurt," Cameron said, leaning against the teak railing. "The Gulfstream crew said she slept the entire flight from Indy. Didn't even wake up during the landing."
"She was exhausted," Lucia said softly. Her eyes drifted toward the tree line. "She spent two days in that house feeling like she was walking on eggshells. A child shouldn't have to learn how to manage an adult’s temper before she learns how to ride a bicycle."
Cameron tapped the screen of his tablet. "Speaking of adults with tempers. Your father has called the Indianapolis branch office seven times. Tyler tried to access the corporate intranet portal using an old VPN credential he found on an old iPad. Our security team flagged it as an unauthorized intrusion attempt and permanently blacklisted his IP."
Lucia took a sip of her coffee. "Did they call Nathan?"
"Oh, Nathan has been on the phone with Kenneth since eight-thirty this morning," Cameron said, his grin entirely devoid of mercy. "Nathan followed the script to the letter. He informed Kenneth that the Brennan Family Support Trust was a non-reciprocal, discretionary vehicle established solely by the majority shareholder of Meridian AI Holdings. He told him that under Section 12-B of the trust agreement, the grantor retained absolute, unilateral authority to dissolve the funding mechanism without notice, cause, or right of appeal."
"What did Kenneth say?"
"Nathan said Kenneth called him a liar for four minutes straight, demanded to speak with the 'real board of directors,' and then claimed you had stolen company assets to commit fraud against your own family."
Lucia closed her eyes.
She could hear the voice so clearly. That booming, heavy, self-righteous Indiana baritone. The voice that had told her, at seventeen, that paying for her university housing was a waste of family capital because *“Girls like you end up married to some boy from Terre Haute anyway, Lucia. Tyler needs the truck for the trade routes.”*
"Is Elena ready?" Lucia asked.
"Elena has been ready since midnight," Cameron replied. "She drafted the formal cease-and-desist, the trespass notices for both the Austin and Chicago facilities, and the accounting summary. If Kenneth or Tyler tries to board a commercial flight with corporate cards, they’ll be stopped at the gate. Everything tied to the Brennan name has been severed down to the dry-cleaning accounts."
Lucia looked down at her phone, which was sitting on the glass patio table.
The screen lit up.
A voicemail from an unknown number with an 812 area code.
She tapped the screen and put it on speaker.
Kenneth’s voice crackled through the small speaker, distorted by rage and wind:
> *"Lucia! You pick up this damn phone right now! I don't know what kind of childish stunt you think you're pulling with these bank accounts, but you have crossed a line! There are tow trucks in my driveway! Your mother is having heart palpitations inside this house! You think you can embarrass me in front of this entire community because of a minor disagreement at Christmas dinner? You turn these accounts back on immediately, or by God, I will hire the best litigation attorney in the state of Indiana and take every dime you have! You owe this family! You owe me! Call me back!"*
The line clicked dead.
Cameron let out a low whistle. "Heart palpitations. Classic Kenneth. Notice he didn't ask how Ellie was doing?"
"He never has," Lucia said. Her voice didn't waver. There was no sadness left in it; the sadness had burned off somewhere over Missouri at forty-one thousand feet while Ellie slept with her head in Lucia’s lap. "He doesn't care about Ellie. He doesn't even care about me. He cares about Mrs. Peterson across the street seeing a repossession truck in his driveway."
"So what’s the next move?" Cameron asked.
Lucia picked up her mug and turned toward the glass doors. Ellie was in the living room, carefully placing a bright yellow Lego brick atop a precarious tower of red and blue, her tongue poking slightly out of the corner of her mouth in total, joyful concentration.
May you like
"We let the market do what he always said it would do," Lucia said. "We let character pay the bills."
***
