Chapter 3 - The Cold Truth of Beacon Hill
Matthew stood up slowly, the comfortable atmosphere of the dining room collapsing around them in an instant.
"Mrs. Carter, I don't manage the day-to-day tenant notices," Matthew said, his voice measured and professional. "Hail Global purchased the land parcel through a subsidiary. The existing structures are scheduled for commercial demolition in the spring, but all tenants were supposed to be given six months' relocation assistance and full severance packages."
Jenna let out a cold, bitter laugh that sounded nothing like the quiet woman who had been kneeling on his floor an hour ago.
"Relocation assistance?" Jenna stepped toward him, her fear entirely replaced by the raw, fierce protective instincts of a mother with nowhere left to go. "We received a piece of paper taped to our door on December 15th saying our building was condemned for safety violations! They turned off the building's central boiler three days ago! My five-year-old daughter has been sleeping in two coats and three blankets because your company wants to build luxury condominiums!"
Matthew turned his gaze sharply to Arthur. "Get Richard Vance on the phone. Right now."
"Sir—" Arthur began.
"NOW, Arthur!" Matthew barked, his voice echoing off the marble walls like a thunderclap.
Daisy let out a small squeak, shrinking back into her leather chair. Jenna instantly moved to her daughter's side, wrapping her arms around Daisy’s shoulders, glaring at Matthew as if he were a monster who had lured them into his trap.
"We don't want your dinner, Mr. Hail," Jenna said, her voice shaking with righteous fury as she reached for Daisy's thin coat on the chair. "Come on, Daisy. Put your coat on."
"Jenna, wait," Matthew said, stepping around the table, holding his hands up in a gesture of peace. "If what you are saying is true, then someone in my firm has violated corporate policy and committed criminal tenant intimidation. I did not authorize the shutting off of heat in those buildings."
"Do you really think it matters to us who signed the paper?" Jenna spat back, tears finally spilling over her lashes. "You sit up here on Beacon Hill in your ten-million-dollar house with your heated floors and your caterers, deciding which neighborhoods get erased! You give my daughter a silver pen and a bowl of gravy, while your managers turn off our heat in the middle of winter!"
She grabbed Daisy’s small hand, turning toward the foyer.
"Mrs. Carter, please let me investigate this," Matthew urged, following them into the grand hallway. "It's freezing outside. You can't take her out into the storm tonight."
"We've survived three nights in that apartment, Mr. Hail," Jenna said, standing by the heavy mahogany front door, her chin held high despite the tears streaming down her face. "We can survive one more. At least in our cold apartment, we don't have to smile for the man who's taking our home."
She pulled open the massive front door. A gust of biting, icy December wind swept into the warm foyer, bringing with it a flurry of white snow.
Jenna picked Daisy up in her arms, wrapping her thin coat around the girl, and stepped out into the dark, snow-covered night.
Matthew stood in the open doorway, the freezing wind blowing his tie over his shoulder, watching the young mother carry her child down the stone steps into the storm.
"Sir," Arthur said quietly, standing behind him with a phone handset in his hand. "I have Mr. Vance on line one."
Matthew didn't take his eyes off the two fading footprints in the fresh snow on his driveway. His jaw set into a hard, dangerous line—the exact expression his Wall Street competitors feared most.
"Richard," Matthew said into the receiver, his voice deadlier than the winter ice outside. "Where are you right now?"
"Matthew? Merry Christmas," Richard Vance’s voice sounded greasy, confident, and relaxed over the speaker. "I'm at the country club. Listen, about the West End parcel, we managed to clear sixty percent of the residential units early. The demolition crew can move in by January 15th, well ahead of schedule—"
"Did you turn off the heat on the 4th Street tenants?" Matthew interrupted coldly.
A beat of silence hung on the line. "Matthew, it's an old building. The boiler had an... unexpected malfunction. It wasn't worth fixing considering the structure is being torn down in a few months anyway. It saved us twenty grand in emergency repair costs and encouraged the remaining squatters to find alternative housing—"
"Cancel your evening, Richard," Matthew said softly. "And get your legal team to my office in thirty minutes."
"What? Matthew, it's Christmas Eve!"
"If you are not at Hail Global headquarters in thirty minutes," Matthew said, "I will have the district attorney execute an emergency warrant for criminal endangerment on your desk by midnight. Do you understand me?"
Matthew slammed the receiver down, turned to Arthur, and grabbed his heavy wool overcoat from the closet.
May you like
"Where are you going, sir?" Arthur asked.
"To 4th Street," Matthew said, pulling on his leather gloves. "And get my personal medical team and a mobile heating unit dispatched to that address immediately."
