Chapter 13 - The Frozen Accounts
The freeze hit like a precision airstrike at exactly 11:45 AM.
I was standing at the teller counter of Huntington Bank on High Street, attempting to process the payroll for our four newly hired junior analysts and the contractor deposits for the community center’s accessibility ramps. The teller, a young woman who had known Mom for twenty years, looked at her screen with an expression of stunned horror.
"Claire... I can’t process this," she stammered, tapping her keyboard frantically. "The system just locked all operating ledgers. There’s a court-ordered administrative freeze initiated by the county clerk’s office. Even your personal escrow reserve is flagged."
"On whose authority?" I asked, keeping my voice utterly level despite the acid burning in my throat.
She turned the monitor slightly. A red banner slashed across the screen: *TEMPORARY RESTRAINING ORDER — CASE NO. 24-CV-08914 — VANGUARD MERIDIAN HOLDINGS VS. STERLING & VANCE LLC.*
Across town, at our new terrace office, the consequences rippled instantly. The catering supplier showed up demanding immediate cash payment for the weekend launch; the electric utility sent an automated suspension warning; and worst of all, Mom’s modest survivor pension—which had been temporarily routed through the firm's escrow account during the title restructuring—was caught in the legal net.
I walked out of the bank into the biting wind, pulled out my phone, and called Marcus.
"They got the injunction ex parte," Marcus barked over the line, the background noise of courthouse corridors echoing behind him. "Cross brought in a high-powered partner from an international firm in Cleveland. They went to Judge Holbrook’s substitute while Holbrook was in recess. They painted us as asset-strippers who diverted Bennett Auto’s liquidation funds to evade legitimate corporate creditors."
"How long do we have before the accounts are liquidated into a court registry?"
"Seventy-two hours," Marcus said. "If we can’t prove prior knowledge and bad faith by Thursday morning at the preliminary injunction hearing, the receiver takes control of the Scioto lease."
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"Then we don't sleep for seventy-two hours," I said. "Meet me at the Short North office. I'm calling an emergency meeting of every person Greg Bennett ever screwed over."
***
