Chapter 3 - The Monday Meltdown
Monday morning arrived with a vengeance.
While the rest of the world was easing back into the workweek after the holiday weekend, the corporate offices of Westbridge Technologies were in absolute, unadulterated chaos.
I sat at the marble island in my penthouse apartment—a 4,000-square-foot property in the city's most exclusive district that my family didn't even know existed—watching the financial news on a wall-mounted screen while sipping fresh espresso.
On the screen, a prominent financial analyst was speaking into a camera outside Westbridge’s headquarters downtown.
"Breaking news this morning in the tech sector," the reporter announced. "Westbridge Technologies, which was slated to file its initial public offering paperwork next month with a projected valuation of $220 million, has suffered an unprecedented capital flight. Three major private equity entities have completely pulled their funding overnight, wiping out nearly $95 million in liquid reserves."
The reporter paused as a black town car pulled up behind him on the screen. Out stepped Westbridge’s Chief Executive Officer, looking frantic, surrounded by security guards and attorneys. Right behind him was my brother, Evan.
Evan was wearing his signature tailored navy suit, but his tie was slightly crooked, his hair was unstyled, and his face was as grey as the November sky. He was furiously talking on his phone while trying to dodge microphones being thrust into his face.
"Mr. Brooks! Mr. Brooks!" a reporter shouted. "Is it true that Westbridge cannot meet its payroll obligations for December?"
"No comment!" Evan yelled back, his voice cracking slightly. "We are experiencing a temporary liquidity audit! Everything is completely under control!"
I took a slow sip of my coffee. Under control.
It was the same phrase he had used when he talked down to me at the Thanksgiving table.
At 10:15 AM, the family group chat blew up like a bomb.
Lauren: EVERYONE PRAY FOR EVAN! Some corrupt, shadowy investment group is trying to sabotage Westbridge! They pulled money out illegaly! Evan is at the office trying to save the company!
Aunt Patricia: Oh my goodness! Sending prayers! Who would do such a cruel thing?!
Cousin Ryan: Is Evan’s stock option still good?? Man, I told my buddies he was gonna hook me up with pre-IPO shares!
Mom: Claire, have you seen the news?! Call your brother right now! He needs legal advice, or financial advice, or whatever it is you do downtown!
I unlocked my phone and finally typed a response to the family group chat.
Claire: That sounds terrible. But isn't Evan the Chief Innovation Officer? I'm sure his vision and leadership will fix everything. After all, big money recognizes vision.
There was a long, uncomfortable silence in the chat. Nobody responded for twenty minutes. They knew those were the exact words Evan had used to demean me four nights ago.
Then my phone rang. It was an incoming direct call from Evan.
I let it ring three times before picking up.
"Claire!" Evan gasped into the receiver, his breathing ragged. He was clearly pacing down a hallway inside his office. "Did you see the news? Did Mom tell you?"
"I saw the broadcast, Evan," I said, keeping my tone perfectly neutral. "You looked very busy on TV."
"It's a nightmare, Claire! A complete disaster!" he panicked, completely dropping the arrogant posture he had maintained for years. "Ninety-four million dollars... poof! Gone! The board just called an emergency meeting. If we can't identify who pulled the capital or find emergency bridge loans by 5:00 PM today, the bank is declaring default on our credit facility!"
"That sounds very complicated," I said softly.
"Look, Claire, I know you just do basic bookkeeping, but you work around accountants downtown!" Evan stammered out, desperate for any straw to grasp. "Do you know anyone at Apex Capital, or Meridian Holdings, or Vanguard? Do you have any contacts who can tell us why they pulled out? We think it might be a hostile takeover!"
I leaned back against my leather chair and looked out at the city view.
"I know those funds very well, Evan," I said calmly.
"You do?!" he yelled, a flicker of frantic hope invading his voice. "Can you call them? Can you ask them to talk to our CEO? Claire, please! My entire life is tied up in this IPO! My house, my car, my reputation—everything! If Westbridge fails, I’m ruined!"
"They pulled out because of risk management, Evan," I replied, my voice cool and steady. "They looked at the company culture, the bloated executive salaries, and the arrogant leadership... and they decided it was time to collect their money."
"What the hell are you talking about?!" Evan snapped, his old irritation flaring up despite his desperation. "You don't know anything about high-level corporate finance! You bring cheap pumpkin pies to Thanksgiving! Just give me a contact number!"
"I don't think a contact number will help you, Evan," I said gently. "Because the person who authorized the withdrawal is sitting right here."
Silence fell over the phone line. The faint sound of frantic voices shouting in the background of Evan's office was the only noise remaining.
May you like
"What... what did you just say?" Evan whispered.
"Have a good afternoon, Evan," I said softly, and hung up the phone.
