Chapter 5 - The Fall of the Callaways
The corporate offices of Callaway Real Estate occupied the top floor of a restored historic building on Westminster Street.
Vivian Callaway sat behind her glass desk, sipping an espresso while reading a luxury real estate magazine. She was fifty-four, impeccably dressed in a designer cream suit, her hair styled in a rigid blonde bob.
Opposite her sat her son, Preston—a soft, handsome man of twenty-nine with weak eyes and a timid jawline. He was staring nervously at his hands.
“Mother,” Preston said, his voice laced with anxiety. “What if the school board asks questions about Scarlet? Her principal called my phone twice this morning.”
“Let them ask,” Vivian replied dismissively, waving a manicured hand. “You filed the abandonment papers. She’s paralyzed, unemployed, and broke. Who is going to listen to a crippled schoolteacher over us?”
Preston swallowed hard. “I just feel... we took all her insurance money, Mother.”
“That money kept this firm afloat during the market crash!” Vivian snapped, her eyes flashing with cold anger. “It was an investment in your future. Scarlet was useless to you. She couldn't walk, she couldn't attend social galas, and she certainly couldn't produce a grandchild to inherit the family name. You did what was necessary.”
Before Preston could answer, the glass doors of the executive suite swung open with a loud bang.
Two men in dark, tailored suits stepped inside, standing on either side of the entrance. Behind them walked Garrison Vance, flanked by Dominic Renzy and a senior partner from Providence’s most formidable law firm.
Vivian stood up instantly, her face tightening with aristocratic disdain. “What is the meaning of this? This is a private office! Security!”
“Your security guard is currently sitting in the lobby,” Dom said casually, closing the door behind them. “He decided it was a good day to take an early lunch.”
Vivian’s eyes moved to Garrison. Though she had never met him in person, she instantly recognized the towering figure whose name dominated the city’s shipping, real estate, and political corridors.
“Mr. Vance?” Vivian stammered, her regal composure flickering for a second. “I... I don't understand. Why are you here?”
Garrison walked slowly across the plush carpet, ignoring her question. He stopped at the edge of her desk, pulling off his leather gloves, his gaze sweeping over the expensive mahogany furniture and the city view behind her.
“Nice office, Mrs. Callaway,” Garrison said, his voice dangerously smooth. “It’s a shame it doesn't belong to you anymore.”
Vivian frowned. “What are you talking about?”
Garrison’s lawyer stepped forward, opening a leather briefcase and laying a thick stack of legal documents on the glass desk.
“At eight o'clock this morning, Vance Capital acquired all outstanding debt and mortgage notes held by Callaway Real Estate from Rhode Island Commerce Bank,” the lawyer announced in a dry, professional tone. “Including the primary lien on this building, your personal residence in East Greenwich, and your son’s vehicle.”
Vivian’s face drained of all color. “That’s... that’s impossible! Those notes weren't due for renewal until next year!”
“There was an acceleration clause in the contract regarding fraudulent asset transfers,” the lawyer explained coldly. “Clause 14-B states that if the borrower uses misappropriated funds—such as stolen medical insurance settlements—to clear secondary debt, the lender has the right to demand immediate full repayment within four hours.”
Preston gasped, turning pale as a sheet. “Mother... the insurance money...”
“Shut up, Preston!” Vivian screamed, her voice cracking. She looked at Garrison, horror dawning in her eyes. “Why are you doing this? We have no quarrel with you, Mr. Vance!”
Garrison leaned over the desk, placing his palms flat on the glass. He brought his face inches from hers.
“You left Scarlet Bennett in an eight-degree blizzard on Broad Street with eleven dollars in her pocket,” Garrison whispered, his gray eyes burning with lethal intent. “After taking two hundred thousand dollars of her medical settlement.”
Vivian gasped, taking a involuntary step back. “She... she told you?”
“She didn't have to tell me,” Garrison replied. “I picked her up off the street. And now, Mrs. Callaway, I am going to tear down everything you have ever built, piece by piece, until you are as cold and destitute as she was last night.”
“You can’t do this!” Vivian shrieked, her regal facade shattering completely. “It’s illegal! I’ll call the police!”
Dom smirked from the doorway. “Go ahead, Vivian. The chief of police is currently having breakfast with Garrison’s legal counsel. I’m sure he’d love to hear about your grand larceny and spousal abandonment charges.”
Garrison stood up straight, pulling his gloves back on.
May you like
“You have until four o'clock today to vacate this building,” Garrison commanded flatly. “At four-fifteen, the city marshal will lock the doors and seize all assets. Have a pleasant afternoon, Mrs. Callaway.”
He turned around and walked out of the suite, leaving Vivian collapsing into her chair in hysterical tears while Preston sat frozen in silent terror.
