Chapter 4 - The Los Angeles Confrontation
Three days later.
The sunshine in Los Angeles was bright, warm, and entirely fake. Inside the VIP lounge of the Beverly Hills Hotel, Ethan Mercer was nursing a glass of twenty-year-old scotch, swirling the amber liquid with a triumphant smile.
Sitting beside him in a white linen dress was Sabrina Hayes, the blonde, twenty-four-year-old actress whose father held the keys to the fifty-million-dollar lifeline Mercer Capital desperately needed.
“To new beginnings, darling,” Sabrina cooed, leaning over to kiss Ethan’s cheek. “Daddy’s lawyers said the contract will be signed by four o’clock today.”
“To new beginnings,” Ethan agreed, taking a sip.
In his mind, the past four days had gone flawlessly. He had successfully pushed Claire out of the Manhattan apartment, effectively cutting ties with a marriage that was dragging down his public image. He assumed Claire had returned to her small hometown in upstate New York, probably staying with a distant relative, waiting for a small monthly alimony check once the divorce cleared.
He hadn't checked his personal phone in seventy-two hours.
Suddenly, the heavy glass doors of the VIP lounge were pushed open.
Four men dressed in sharp dark suits stepped into the room, their formidable presence immediately silencing the gentle jazz music playing over the speakers. Walking at the front of the group was Julian, Alexander Vance’s chief of security.
Ethan frowned, setting his glass down. “What the hell is this?”
Julian walked directly up to Ethan’s table, pulling a thick silver envelope from his breast pocket and slamming it onto the polished mahogany surface.
“Ethan Mercer,” Julian said, his voice loud enough to echo across the quiet lounge. “You have been officially served.”
Ethan stared at the envelope in disbelief. “Served? For what? My wife and I signed a mutual separation agreement four days ago in New York!”
“That agreement has been declared null and void by the Supreme Court of the State of New York on grounds of severe spousal endangerment, fraud, and coercion,” Julian stated coldly.
Sabrina gasped, pulling her hand away from Ethan’s arm. “Ethan, what is he talking about?”
Ethan stood up angrily, his face flushing red. “This is ridiculous! Who hired you? Claire doesn't have a dime! She couldn't afford a public defender, let alone process servers in California!”
A cold, smooth voice echoed from the doorway of the lounge.
“She doesn't need a dime, Ethan. She has me.”
The crowd in the lounge parted like the Red Sea as Alexander Vance stepped into the room. He wore a flawless navy three-piece suit, his hands tucked casually into his pockets, walking toward Ethan with the relaxed dominance of an apex predator entering a cage full of sheep.
Ethan’s eyes bulged in utter horror. “Vance…?”
“Hello, Ethan,” Alexander said smoothly, stopping three feet from the table. “It’s been a few years since you stole my algorithm.”
“What are you doing here? What does this have to do with you?!” Ethan demanded, his voice cracking as sweat broke out across his forehead.
Alexander reached down, picking up the silver envelope, and tapped it against Ethan’s chest.
“Claire went into premature labor on a public bus four hours after you abandoned her in the rain,” Alexander revealed, his deep baritone dropping into a tone of terrifying, icy menace. “She gave birth to triplets at twenty-eight weeks.”
Sabrina shrieked, staring at Ethan in complete horror. “Triplets?! Ethan, you told me she wasn't even pregnant!”
Ethan went chalk-white, staggering back a step. “She… she had the babies? Are they…”
“They are alive,” Alexander snapped, his eyes burning into Ethan’s soul. “No thanks to you. You froze her medical insurance, liquidated her accounts, and left her to die on a street corner so you could chase venture capital in Los Angeles.”
“That’s a lie!” Ethan stuttered, looking frantically around the room at the hotel guests who were now recording the scene on their phones. “It was a standard separation! I left her money!”
“You left her a dead debit card,” Alexander corrected coldly. “And because of your gross criminal negligence, the Manhattan District Attorney’s office has launched an immediate investigation into spousal abandonment and corporate fraud. Furthermore, I have personally acquired seventy-eight percent of the debt notes on Mercer Capital.”
Ethan froze, his breath hitching in his throat. “What… what did you say?”
Alexander leaned in close, his face inches from Ethan’s pale, trembling face.
“I bought your firm’s debt, Ethan,” Alexander whispered softly. “I own your mortgage. I own your office lease. I own your trading platform. And as of nine o’clock this morning, I have declared Mercer Capital in full default. You are bankrupt.”
Sabrina stood up instantly, grabbing her designer handbag. “Ethan, you lied to me! My father is never signing that contract!” She slapped Ethan hard across the face, turning on her high heels and storming out of the lounge.
Ethan fell back into his leather chair, clutching his slapped cheek, his entire world collapsing into ashes around him in less than five minutes.
“Why are you doing this to me, Vance?!” Ethan screamed, tears of rage and desperation leaking from his eyes. “She was my wife! Why do you care about Claire?!”
Alexander adjusted his gold cufflinks, looking down at the broken man with absolute disdain.
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“Because Claire is a mother of three beautiful children,” Alexander said quietly. “And you are a memory that I am erasing from her life. If you ever return to New York, or if you ever attempt to contact Claire again, I won't just ruin you financially, Ethan. I will make sure you spend the rest of your life in a federal penitentiary.”
Alexander turned on his heel, walking out of the lounge as his security team followed, leaving Ethan Mercer ruined, alone, and humiliated on the floor of the Beverly Hills Hotel.
