Chapter 4 - The Viper’s Trap
Monday morning arrived with the heavy, gray threat of rain.
When I walked into the offices of Vanguard Engineering, the atmosphere was suffocating. People glanced at me from their cubicles, whispering behind raised folders.
Before I could even lay my briefcase on my desk, the glass door of the executive corner office slammed open. Arthur Vance, the managing partner of the firm—and a close associate of Richard Sterling—stepped out, his face dark with fury.
“Daniel! In my office. Now.”
I took a steadying breath, adjusted my tie, and walked in.
Clinton was sitting in one of the leather armchairs, a white bandage over a small cut on his lip from when security had tossed him out, looking like a triumphant rat.
“Sit down,” Vance ordered, slamming a thick paper folder onto his mahogany desk. “Do you have any idea what you did on Saturday night, Daniel? You publicly assaulted and humiliated our senior account director in front of our biggest potential clients!”
“I didn’t assault anyone,” I said calmly, remaining standing. “Clinton was publicly harassing a woman, and I intervened. He was thrown out by hotel security because he violated the venue’s rules.”
“That woman is a disgraced former executive with pending legal liabilities!” Clinton sneered, sitting forward. “You ruined a three-million-dollar sponsorship deal with Sterling Capital! You insulted Richard Sterling’s personal representatives!”
Vance leaned over his desk, his eyes cold. “Your career in this city is over, Daniel. Effective immediately, you are terminated for severe gross misconduct. Furthermore, we are filing a formal complaint with the State Engineering Board to revoke your license for breach of non-disparagement agreements.”
My blood ran cold. Revoking my license meant I couldn’t work anywhere in the state. It meant no rent money, no health insurance for Louisa, no future. It was a complete execution designed to leave me destitute.
“You’re framing me to protect a bully,” I said, my voice dangerously low.
“We’re protecting this firm,” Vance snapped. “Security is packing your desk. You have five minutes to clear out before we have you arrested for trespassing.”
Clinton let out a soft, taunting laugh. “You should have stayed at your table, single dad. Now let’s see how many mints your daughter can feed you when you’re living on the street.”
Before I could leap across the desk and wipe the smirk off Clinton’s face, the heavy frosted-glass doors of the main entrance shattered the quiet of the executive suite as they swung wide open.
A pair of high-end Italian leather heels clicked rhythmically against the hardwood floor.
Evangeline Monroe stepped into the office. She was dressed in a tailored, midnight-blue silk suit, her hair pulled back into an elegant knot. Flanking her were two men in dark suits carrying heavy leather briefcases—some of the most formidable corporate attorneys in the tri-state area.
Vance gasped, rising from his chair so fast he nearly knocked his coffee over. “M-Miss Monroe?”
May you like
Evangeline didn't even look at him. She walked straight to my side, her presence commanding every square inch of oxygen in the room.
“Mr. Vance,” Evangeline said softly. “You might want to hold off on calling security. Because as of seven o’clock this morning, you no longer own this firm.”
