Chapter 4 - The Counter-Strike
Anger is a remarkable fuel. It burns clean and leaves no room for sorrow. I looked at Marcus and asked him what we needed to do to destroy the holding company and sever Richard’s access entirely.
Marcus smiled, a cold, sharp expression. Because Richard had relied on deceit and buried clauses rather than transparent legal consent, the transfer was highly vulnerable to claims of fiduciary breach and fraud. But we could not just litigate; we had to paralyze him before he could execute the final signatures in Aspen on Monday morning.
We spent the next twelve hours drafting emergency injunctions and revocation notices. I signed document after document, this time reading every single word. I revoked Richard’s power of attorney. I terminated his employment contract with my company, effective immediately, citing gross misconduct and embezzlement. Marcus reached out to a contact in the banking sector; by Saturday evening, every joint account Richard and I shared was frozen pending a fraud investigation.
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My father’s company was shielded behind an impenetrable wall of injunctions filed in emergency weekend court by a judge who owed Marcus a favor. The holding company, Apex, was rendered a hollow shell, its assets locked and inaccessible.
We had cut the puppet strings. Richard was currently in Aspen, sitting in a luxury chalet, entirely unaware that the fortune he thought he was stealing had just turned to ash in his hands.
