Chapter 5 - The War for West Loop
By noon that same day, the news of the fallout at Holloway House Hospitality had spread across the culinary world like wildfire.
Eater Chicago published a bombshell article titled: “Infidelity, Theft, and Fake Recipes: The Spectacular Collapse of Chicago’s Premier Restaurant Group.”
The article detailed the scene at the Blackstone Hotel, the attempt to seize my family's heirloom, and the sudden corporate maneuvering by Sierra Vaughn. Within hours, three of our head chefs across the city’s seven locations posted public resignations on Instagram, citing loyalty to me and expressing disgust at Brett’s actions.
At 2:00 P.M., I received a call from an unknown New York number.
"Audrey Finch?" a smooth, gravelly voice answered when I picked up.
"Speaking."
"This is Arthur Hudson from Hudson Capital."
I pulled my phone away from my ear for a second, surprised, before pressing it back to my face. "Mr. Hudson. I’m sorry about the embarrassment at the gala last night."
A low, rich laugh came over the line. "Embarrassment? My dear woman, that was the most entertaining dinner I’ve had in twenty years of venture capital. Your son is a national treasure."
I couldn't help but smile faintly. "Micah takes after his great-grandmother."
"Listen to me, Audrey," Mr. Hudson’s tone became serious, professional. "We were scheduled to write a five-million-dollar check to Brett Holloway this afternoon to fund the expansion. We canceled the wire at midnight."
"I figured as much."
"We didn't invest in Brett because of his charisma," Hudson explained. "We invested because the food at Opal & Rye is the best artisanal baking on the East or West coast. When we ran our background checks, we realized every critically acclaimed dish on your menus was developed solely by you."
"Brett managed the operations—"
"Brett managed the noise," Hudson interrupted sharply. "A bullhorn is useless without a voice behind it. Hudson Capital wants to make you an offer, Audrey."
I sat down at my kitchen table, my hand tightening around the phone. "What kind of offer?"
"Ten million dollars," Hudson said without missing a beat. "We back you directly. You file for emergency receivership of Holloway House, buy out the remaining assets through bankruptcy court, and rename the entire group Finch & Son Hospitality. You keep sixty percent controlling interest. We take forty."
My breathing caught in my throat. Ten million dollars. It was twice what Brett had been begging for.
"What's the catch, Mr. Hudson?" I asked guardedly.
"The catch is speed," Hudson answered. "Brett and Sierra are holding an emergency board meeting at four o'clock today to vote you off the executive council before your court injunction goes through tomorrow. If they secure a simple majority vote from the remaining local investors, they can liquidate the flagship restaurant by morning."
I looked at the clock on my wall. 2:15 P.M.
I had less than two hours to mobilize my supporters, gather the original founding documentation, and crash Brett’s private board meeting.
May you like
I stood up, pulling my hair back into a tight, professional knot.
"Mr. Hudson," I said, my voice ringing with absolute determination. "Have your legal team meet me at the corporate headquarters on Michigan Avenue at 3:45. And tell them to bring a big pen."
