Chapter 3 - Morning in the Tower
My penthouse in downtown Chicago sat on the fifty-fourth floor, overlooking the icy black expanse of Lake Michigan. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows at seven in the morning, casting long geometric shadows across the hardwood floors.
I stood at the marble kitchen island in my sweatpants, making a cup of pour-over coffee while Lily sat on a barstool, happily dipping French toast sticks into maple syrup.
"Is Grandpa coming to our house for New Year's?" she asked, her blue eyes wide as she looked up at me.
"No, sweetheart," I said gently, setting her orange juice down. "Grandpa and Uncle Derek are going to be very busy with work for a while."
"Good," she whispered, taking a quiet bite of her toast. "I like our house better. It doesn't smell like mean words."
Her words hit me straight in the chest. I patted her shoulder, leaning down to press a kiss against her forehead. "Me too, Lily. Me too."
My phone on the counter rang. The caller ID read Derek.
It was 7:45 AM. Normally, Derek didn't wake up before ten unless he was playing golf. I let it ring. It went to voicemail.
Two minutes later, my mother’s name flashed across the screen. I let that ring as well.
Then Vanessa.
Then Dad.
By eight-fifteen, my phone was vibrating every thirty seconds like an alarm clock gone haywire. They had clearly checked their bank accounts for the usual end-of-month processing notifications, or perhaps the bank had flagged the sudden termination of their automatic deposits.
I casually took my coffee, walked over to my home office, and sat behind my glass desk. I tapped the speaker button on my phone and dialed my lawyer, Sarah.
"Morning, Julian," Sarah answered, her voice sharp and crisp. "I got your late-night email. I’ve already pulled all four files."
"What's the status on the commercial lease for Vanessa’s store?" I asked.
"She’s four months behind on her base rent, Julian. The only reason the building owner hasn't served her an eviction notice is because your corporate entity signed a master guarantee backing her lease. Without your guarantee, the landlord is required under their commercial loan covenants to demand full back rent within ten business days or initiate lockout protocols."
"Revoke the guarantee today," I said smoothly. "What about Derek’s house?"
"His private mortgage note carries an adjustable interest rate that was kept at two percent through your subsidy," Sarah replied. "Without your monthly rate-buy-down, his mortgage payment jumps from $2,200 a month to $6,800 a month, starting January first. Plus, he has an outstanding balloon payment due in ninety days."
"Let the note adjust to market value," I instructed. "And my father's property taxes?"
"The local county tax collector's office bill arrives January fifteenth. It's $18,500. It was set to auto-pay from your trust account. I’ve already removed the payment method."
I took a slow sip of my coffee. "Thank you, Sarah. If any of them attempt to contact my office directly, transfer them to corporate legal."
"Understood, Julian. Oh, by the way... your brother is currently downstairs in your building's lobby."
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I froze with my coffee cup halfway to my mouth. "Derek is in Chicago?"
"He checked into the Westin last night," Sarah said, checking her security feed monitor. "He’s standing at the concierge desk right now demanding to be brought up to 'Julian Vance’s apartment.' The building security team is asking if you want him removed."
