Chapter 5 - The Tables Turn
The silence in the subterranean office was so absolute that the hum of the mini-fridge in the corner sounded like a jet engine.
Marcus blinked once, twice, trying to align the terrifying reality in front of him with the fantasy in his head. Everett Calloway was not just a name on a corporate letterhead; he was a titan in the Pacific Northwest hospitality industry—a man whose investments could make or break politicians and real estate developers alike.
And right now, that titan was glaring at Marcus and Eleanor as if they were insects crawling across a pristine white tablecloth.
“Mr… Mr. Calloway,” Eleanor stuttered, her formidable poise cracking like dry mud. She quickly adjusted her mink stole, trying to recover her usual haughty demeanor. “I—we weren’t aware that you were occupied. This… this woman, Brielle Dawson, is the mother of my grandchild. She has violated company policy by bringing an unauthorized infant into a commercial workspace, and we are here to take the child into our custody for her own safety.”
Everett did not stand up. He slowly shifted Elodie, who had fallen back into a deep, untroubled sleep against his chest, adjusting his jacket so her head remained cushioned against his heart.
“Is that so, Mrs. Vance?” Everett’s voice was dangerously quiet. “And by what legal authority do you walk into my private office, screaming profanities, and attempt to seize a child who is clearly terrified of your screeching voice?”
“She’s an unfit mother!” Marcus chimed in, finding his courage now that he was standing on solid ground. “She has eighteen dollars in her bank account! She can’t afford diapers, let alone a proper home! We’re doing the court a favor by taking the kid off her hands!”
Brielle stepped out from behind the desk, her tears drying, replaced by a sudden, fierce wave of maternal fury. “You haven’t paid child support in four months, Marcus! You spent the grocery money on a weekend trip to Vegas with your new girlfriend! You don’t want Elodie; you just want to hurt me!”
“Shut up, Brielle!” Marcus snarled, stepping forward.
“Step back,” Everett commanded.
It wasn't a shout. It was a command issued with such absolute, chilling authority that Marcus physically recoiled, taking two involuntary steps backward.
Everett slowly rose from his chair, cradling Elodie with one arm while reaching into his vest pocket with the other. He pulled out a sleek silver smartphone and tapped the screen twice.
May you like
“Security,” Everett said into the speakerphone setting. “Clear out the service hallway immediately. Escort Rochelle Pierce, Marcus Vance, and Eleanor Vance off the premises. If any of them set foot on Harbor & Ash property again, I want local law enforcement notified for criminal trespass and harassment.”
“Right away, Mr. Calloway,” a crisp voice responded through the phone.
