Chapter 4 - The Lobby Confrontation
The lobby of the Meridian Tower was constructed of imported Italian marble, brushed bronze elevators, and ten-foot glass walls that looked out onto Michigan Avenue. It was quiet, understated, and designed to keep non-residents far away from the private residential elevators.
When I stepped out of the private elevator bay on the ground floor, I saw Derek arguing heatedly with two uniform security guards near the front desk.
He was wearing his expensive leather jacket—another gift I had paid for—and waving a printed bank slip in the air.
"I’m his brother!" Derek shouted, his face red and blotchy. "I know he lives here! He works in tech support or whatever! Just call his damn room!"
"Sir, you need to lower your voice or we will call the Chicago Police," the head security guard said firmly, holding his hands up in a defensive posture.
"Derek," I called out, stepping across the marble floor.
Derek spun around. When he saw me—wearing a charcoal cashmere sweater and tailored trousers—his face twisted into a mix of fury and desperate relief.
"Julian! What the hell is going on?!" he yelled, marching toward me. The guards immediately moved to block his path, but I held up a hand to signal they could stand down. "My bank app showed a decline this morning! I called the bank, and they told me the Northwoods Trust transfer was revoked by the account holder!"
"That's correct," I said, stopping ten feet away from him, my hands casually resting in my pockets.
"What do you mean 'that's correct'?!" he sputtered, his voice cracking. "My mortgage is due in five days! I have a vendor payment for the lounge due tomorrow! Mom and Dad’s account is empty! Dad tried to buy gas this morning and his card got declined at the station!"
"Dad’s card got declined?" I asked softly, a faint, cold smile touching my lips. "Did he try paying for it with his paper angel?"
Derek stared at me as if I had spoken in a foreign language. "Are you out of your mind?! You canceled the family trust because of some stupid argument at Christmas dinner?!"
"There is no family trust, Derek," I said, keeping my voice completely level.
Derek laughed, a harsh, dismissive sound. "Don't play games with me, Julian. Grandpa left that Oregon timberland to Dad! Dad set up the royalty payouts four years ago!"
"Grandpa died with forty thousand dollars in debt and a mortgaged trailer in Eugene," I said flatly. "There was no timberland. There were no royalties. There was only me."
Derek’s laugh trailed off. He looked at me, then looked around at the soaring marble lobby, the uniformed guards standing at attention, and the private elevator keycard tucked into my leather wallet.
"What... what are you talking about?" he whispered, his brain struggling to assemble the pieces.
"Every single dollar that has entered your bank account, Mom’s bank account, Vanessa’s bank account, and Dad’s bank account for the last forty-eight months came directly out of my personal holdings," I said. "Thirty-two thousand dollars a month. One point five million dollars of my money."
"You... you're a software contractor," Derek stammered, stepping closer, his eyes wide with sudden panic. "You fix computers!"
"I am the founder and Chief Executive Officer of Aegis Core," I corrected him calmly. "I own this building's top two floors. And as of last night at nine o'clock, I no longer fund people who insult my daughter at my parents' dinner table."
Derek stood frozen on the marble floor. The arrogant, loud-mouthed big brother who had spent four years treating me like a pathetic failure looked like he had been struck by lightning.
"Julian... wait," Derek stammered, taking a step forward, his hands coming up in a pleading gesture. "You can't do this. I owe sixty thousand dollars to suppliers for the lounge! They'll sue me!"
"Then I suggest you get a job, Derek," I said.
I turned on my heel and walked back toward the private elevator.
May you like
"Julian! Come back here! You owe us!" Derek screamed behind me, trying to push past the security guards.
"Sir, you are under arrest for trespassing," the security chief’s voice echoed through the lobby as the heavy bronze doors clicked smoothly shut, sealing me inside.
