Chapter 15 - The Dinner at the Union Club
Before we could even file the new evidence with Judge Holbrook’s court, an embossed linen envelope arrived at my personal apartment. Inside was an invitation to a private breakfast at the historic Columbus Athletic Club, signed personally by Nathan Cross.
Marcus advised me to ignore it, but in corporate warfare, you never refuse an audience with the enemy when you hold the smoking gun they don't know you possess.
At 7:30 AM the next morning, I was escorted into the private dining room overlooking downtown Columbus. Nathan Cross was in his late fifties, impeccably groomed in a bespoke charcoal three-piece suit, sipping black tea while reviewing financial printouts.
"Miss Sterling," he said without looking up immediately. "Sit down. The eggs are passable; the coffee is exceptional."
I sat across from him, resting my hands squarely on the mahogany table, declining the silver menu offered by the waiter. "Let’s skip the theater, Mr. Cross. You filed an ex parte freeze on our accounts based on a fraudulent promissory note."
Cross set down his cup with a soft clink. His eyes were cold, assessing, and devoid of empathy. "The law is an instrument of leverage, Miss Sterling. Your little crusade against Greg Bennett was quaint. You won a minor local skirmish. But you expanded into a riverfront development that was earmarked for our portfolio three years before your father passed away."
"You colluded with Greg," I said evenly. "You induced him to commit elder fraud against my mother."
Cross laughed—a dry, dismissive chuckle. "Proving inducement against an offshore limited liability company with twelve layers of Delaware shielding? By the time your discovery requests make it through the appellate courts, your firm will be bankrupt, your mother's credit will be obliterated, and the Scioto lease will be sold at public auction to satisfy the receiver’s fees."
He leaned forward, sliding a certified bank draft across the linen cloth.
"Three hundred thousand dollars," Cross said smoothly. "Clean cash. You surrender the riverfront leasehold to Vanguard Meridian, drop your opposition to the foreclosure on your mother’s former house, and walk away with your dignity and a comfortable nest egg. You have until noon."
I looked down at the check, then picked it up slowly. Cross’s mouth twitched with the smug satisfaction of a man who believed every human being had an invoice price.
I carefully tore the check in half. Then I tore it into quarters, placed the pieces neatly inside his teacup, and watched the ink bleed into the dark amber liquid.
May you like
"You should have looked into my forensic accounting record before you invited me here, Mr. Cross," I said softly, rising from the table. "I don't settle with predators. I audit them until they are hollow."
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