Chapter 8 - Down on the Pavement
While the board unanimously ratified my new executive regime upstairs, down on the ground floor of the Vance Global building, reality was crashing down on Caldwell Vance with the force of a freight train.
Surrounded by three taped-up cardboard boxes containing his designer suits, monogrammed cuff links, and framed college degrees, Caldwell stood on the concrete sidewalk in the crisp morning air. Commuters hurried past him, casting brief, indifferent glances at the disheveled former titan of industry.
Reporters from financial blogs and local news outlets had quickly gathered across the street, their camera lenses zooming in on his desperate, humiliated face.
"Mr. Vance! Mr. Vance! Is it true you've been locked out of your corporate accounts?" shouted a reporter from the Wall Street Journal, waving a microphone in his direction. "Can you comment on allegations of corporate embezzlement totaling over three million dollars?"
"It’s a lie! It’s all a malicious conspiracy!" Caldwell screamed back, his voice cracking with rising hysteria as he lunged forward, only to be blocked by building security stationed at the revolving doors. "My wife—my estranged wife—stole my company! She’s a fraud! Call my lawyers! Call my broker!"
Just then, a sleek black sedan pulled up sharply to the curb. The rear door popped open, and Sloan stepped out, wearing oversized designer sunglasses and a furious expression. She took one look at Caldwell standing among his cheap cardboard boxes and stopped dead in her tracks.
"Sloan! Thank God!" Caldwell cried out, stumbling toward her with his arms outstretched. "You need to help me. My lawyers are working on an emergency injunction. Once we freeze Saraphina’s assets—"
"Shut up, Caldwell! Have you completely lost your mind?!" Sloan hissed, slapping his outstretched hand away with venomous disgust.
Caldwell froze, his eyes widening in shock. "Sloan? What are you talking about? We're partners—we're together!"
"Together?" Sloan laughed hysterically, her voice sharp enough to cut glass. "Are you delusional? My father’s logistics firm just received an official notice that our forty-million-dollar contract with Vance Global has been permanently terminated! Our accounts are frozen, investigators are auditing our corporate books, and my family won't even take my phone calls because of your catastrophic stupidity!"
"That—that was Saraphina's doing! She’s vindictive, she’s—"
"I don't care whose doing it is!" Sloan screamed, stepping right up to his face. "You told me you were a billionaire CEO! You told me you held the controlling power of this empire! Instead, you let your wife—a woman you treated like a servant—strip you of everything you ever owned in thirty minutes!"
She ripped a sparkling diamond tennis bracelet off her wrist—a gift Caldwell had purchased using corporate funds just last week—and threw it directly into one of his cardboard boxes.
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"We are done, Caldwell. Don't ever call me, don't ever text me, and don't ever mention my name to anyone again."
With that, Sloan turned on her heel, climbed back into her sedan, and slammed the door. The vehicle sped away into the Manhattan traffic, leaving Caldwell standing alone on the pavement with his cardboard boxes, completely and utterly abandoned by everyone he had traded his integrity for.
