Chapter 8 - The Ruin of Grant Mercer
What followed was the fastest, most catastrophic collapse of a financial empire in modern American history.
Within ninety seconds of the video airing live on television, the ballroom erupted into total, unbridled chaos.
Billionaire investors dropped their champagne flutes and rushed for the exits. The CEO of the Stock Exchange walked off the stage, refusing to even look at Grant. Reporters pushed past security guards, screaming questions as camera flashes exploded like lightning strikes inside the room.
"Mr. Mercer! Is that video authentic?!"
"Did you assault your pregnant wife?!"
"Are you facing attempted murder charges?!"
"Cut the power! Cut the fucking power!" Grant screamed frantically, rushing off the stage and grabbing a sound technician by his collar. "Turn it off!"
The doors at the back of the ballroom were slammed open.
Six LAPD officers, accompanied by four federal agents from the Department of Justice, marched down the carpeted aisle toward the stage.
Leading them was Eleanor Cross, holding a thick leather folder.
"Grant Mercer!" the lead LAPD detective called out over the commotion, drawing his handcuffs. "Stay where you are!"
Grant backed away, his face slick with cold sweat, his expensive toupee slightly askew. "This is a misunderstanding! It's a deepfake! It's a digital frame job created by my enemies to sabotage my IPO!"
"Save it for the judge, Mercer," the detective said coldly, grabbing Grant’s right arm and twisting it behind his back.
CLICK.
The steel cuff snapped tightly around his wrist.
"Grant Mercer, you are under arrest for felony domestic battery, assault on a pregnant mother, felony child endangerment, and destruction of evidence," the officer recited smoothly.
"You can't arrest me!" Grant shrieked, struggling against the officer's grip as cameras captured every second of his humiliation. "I have two billion dollars! Call my lawyers! Call the mayor!"
As Grant was dragged down the center aisle of the ballroom, screaming like a lunatic, the massive projection screens behind the stage updated one final time.
A live market ticker appeared on the screen:
MERCER CAPITAL (PROPOSED IPO): CANCELLED. UNDERWRITERS WITHDRAWAL: 100%. SEC ASSET FREEZE ORDER: EXECUTED.
Grant looked up at the screen as he was shoved through the glass doors of the hotel into a waiting police cruiser. His multi-billion-dollar fortune had vanished into dust in less than twenty minutes.
Standing at the top of the hotel steps, framed by the warm glow of the chandeliers, was Caroline.
She stood alongside Eleanor Cross and Leo Vance.
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As the police car sped away into the rainy night, its red and blue lights flashing against the wet pavement, Caroline took a deep, clean breath of cold night air.
The air felt sweeter than anything she had ever tasted in her life.
