Chapter 4 - The Dismantling
Derek stood paralyzed. The color had abandoned his face entirely, leaving his skin the shade of wet flour. His mouth opened, closed, and opened again, like a fish gasping on a dock.
“Brynn… what is this?” he stammered, his polished corporate demeanor fracturing in real time. “What are you doing here? Did you get a job as an executive assistant or something? Why are you sitting in that chair?”
A sharp, collective gasp echoed from the junior analysts seated around the table.
Julian Croft slowly placed his fountain pen down onto his legal pad. The sound was like a gunshot in the silent room.
“Mr. Halston,” Julian said, his baritone voice dripping with lethal gravity. “You are addressing Brynn Calloway. Founder, majority stakeholder, and Chief Executive Officer of Northstar Ridge Capital. You will adjust your tone immediately, or building security will assist you to the curb.”
Derek’s brain visibly short-circuited. He looked at Julian, then at the junior partners, then back at me.
“No… no, that’s impossible,” Derek laughed, a high-pitched, nervous sound that bordered on hysteria. “She’s a freelance writer. She drives a 2016 Civic. We got married yesterday! She cleans… she lives in an apartment in West Philly!”
“I owned the building your apartment was in, Derek,” I said calmly, opening the leather folder in front of me. “Just as I own this firm, the software patents your company attempted to copy in Section 4 of your pitch, and thirty-four percent of the municipal bonds currently financing the warehouse your mother lives near.”
Trevor dropped his leather portfolio onto the table. His eyes were wide with pure terror. “Derek… what did you do? Who did you marry?”
“Shut up, Trevor!” Derek hissed, his chest heaving. He leaned across the table toward me, his hands trembling. “Brynn… baby, listen to me. If this is some kind of joke because of last night—”
“Mr. Halston,” I interrupted, my voice dropping an octave into pure ice. “This is a venture capital review. Northstar does not entertain jokes. You requested an audience to pitch Apex Dynamics for a Series A investment of six million dollars. We have reviewed your prospectus.”
I turned a page in the file.
“According to your pitch deck,” I continued, “Apex claims a proprietary logistical routing algorithm with a ninety-two percent efficiency rating. You projected twelve million in annualized recurring revenue by Q3 of next year.”
Derek blinked, desperately trying to latch onto the business conversation. “Yes! Yes, exactly. The metrics are solid, Brynn—I mean, Ms. Calloway. Our burn rate is low, and our beta testing in the regional market—”
“Your beta testing is fraudulent,” I stated flatly.
The room went dead silent.
Trevor let out a whimper. Derek stiffened. “What are you talking about?”
“Twelve days ago, Northstar’s compliance division ran a preliminary forensic audit on Apex Dynamics,” I said, looking up from the folder. “You didn't build a proprietary algorithm, Derek. You purchased an open-source code package from an Indian development forum for twelve hundred dollars, slapped a new user interface over it, and fabricated forty-two corporate client testimonials.”
“That’s… that’s an exaggeration! We were in negotiations with those clients!”
“You forged the signature of the procurement director at Sysco Logistics,” Julian Croft interjected, sliding a single sheet of paper across the table. “We called him this morning. He confirmed he has never heard of Apex Dynamics, nor has he ever met you. That constitutes wire fraud and securities fraud, Mr. Halston.”
Derek’s knees buckled slightly. He caught himself on the back of a leather chair. Sweat was pouring down the sides of his face now, ruining his three-hundred-dollar haircut.
“Brynn, please,” Derek whispered, his voice cracking. “We’re husband and wife. In the eyes of God, we’re one person! You can’t do this to me. Whatever happened last night… it was a misunderstanding! I was stressed! My mother was being difficult, you know how she gets!”
“Do I?” I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the polished walnut table. I turned my head slightly, allowing the recessed LED lighting to illuminate the faint, swollen bruise along my cheekbone.
The junior partners noticed it instantly. Elena, one of our sharpest senior directors, drew in a sharp breath, her eyes darting between my face and Derek’s trembling hands.
“Last night, Derek, you pulled my hair until my scalp bled,” I said, every word measured and lethal. “You slapped me across the face because I refused to mop up your friends' vomit on our wedding night. You stood in your mother’s hallway and told me I was a worthless nobody who had nowhere to go.”
“Brynn, I was drunk!” Derek pleaded, tears of panic finally breaking through his arrogant facade. He took two steps toward my end of the table. “I swear to God, I didn't mean it! I love you! I’ve always loved you! We can fix this! Northstar can invest, we can merge our assets, we can be the biggest power couple in Pennsylvania!”
“There are no assets to merge, Derek,” I said coldly. “Apex Dynamics is bankrupt. Because thirty minutes ago, Northstar notified your secondary bridge-loan creditors that we have formally rejected your funding request due to material misrepresentation and criminal fraud.”
Trevor grabbed his head in both hands. “Oh, God. The bridge loan. Derek, they have personal liens on our houses!”
Derek lunged forward, slamming his palms onto the table. “You vindictive bitch! You planned this! You hid this from me just to humiliate me!”
Before Derek could take another breath, the side doors of the boardroom swung open.
Four armed private security officers, accompanied by two uniformed Philadelphia police detectives, stepped into the room.
The lead detective stepped directly behind Derek.
“Derek Halston?” the detective asked.
Derek spun around, terrified. “What? What is this?”
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“You are under arrest for domestic battery and assault,” the officer said, producing a pair of stainless steel handcuffs. “Turn around and put your hands behind your back.”
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