Chapter 7 - THE CRUMBLED FAMILY
By Monday morning, the bombs I had set dropped simultaneously across the city of Chicago.
At 8:30 AM, Ethan Cole arrived at the downtown offices of Sterling & Croft Investment Management.
He was wearing a rumpled suit he had pulled from his storage locker the night before, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep, his hands shaking as he held a paper cup of cheap coffee. He intended to ask the firm’s managing partner for a emergency salary advance to pay his legal retainer.
He didn't even make it past the glass security turnstiles in the lobby.
Two corporate security officers intercepted him immediately.
"Mr. Cole," the head of security said coldly. "Hand over your building access badge."
Ethan blinked, stunned. "What? Why? I have a client meeting at nine!"
"Your employment with Sterling & Croft has been terminated effective immediately," the officer stated, taking the badge from Ethan's limp hand. "Your personal effects from your desk have been packed into a box and sent to your listed home address."
"On what grounds?!" Ethan yelled, panic rising in his chest. "You can't fire me without cause!"
"The firm received an official forensic financial audit this morning detailing attempted bank fraud, electronic signature forgery, and severe ethical violations," the officer replied coldly. "The managing partners have already reported the matter to the Financial Industry Regulatory Authority. You are barred from the premises."
Ethan stumbled backward out of the building, the glass doors sliding shut in his face.
His career was over. His license was gone. He was blacklisted from every financial firm in North America.
While Ethan was being thrown out of his office, an even greater explosion was taking place in room 214 of the O'Hare airport motel.
Marilyn Cole sat at the small laminate desk, sipping lukewarm instant coffee, when an anonymous courier delivered a large yellow envelope to her door.
She opened it, expecting more legal papers from my attorney.
Instead, out fell the Aspen receipts, the itemized invoice from the luxury jewelry boutique, and thirty pages of printed text messages between Ethan and Brooke.
Marilyn’s eyes scanned the text messages in utter horror:
Ethan: "I bought the diamond bracelet today babe. Can't wait to see you when I get back to Chicago. Claire has no idea."Brooke: "You're the best babe. Did you get the money from her for the salon yet?"Ethan: "Working on it. My mom is pressing her hard. We'll have the fifty grand by next week."
Marilyn's hand flew to her mouth.
But it was the next set of messages that shattered her entire world into dust.
Brooke: "Is your dad still coming over to my apartment when you guys get back?"Ethan: "Yeah, he said he has the cash he hid from my mom's joint account."
Marilyn turned slowly to face her husband, who was sitting on the edge of the bed watching TV in his undershirt.
"Frank," Marilyn whispered, her voice shaking with an unholy, terrifying rage.
Frank looked up, frowning. "What?"
Marilyn threw the stack of papers directly into his face.
"WHAT IS THIS?!" she screamed, her voice reaching a hysterical shriek that vibrated through the thin walls of the motel. "YOU WERE HIDING MONEY FROM ME?! YOU WERE GIVING CASH TO BROOKE?!"
Frank frantically tried to gather the papers from the floor, his face going pale as he read the text messages. "Marilyn... wait... I can explain! It’s not what it looks like!"
"YOU DISGUSTING, LIAR!" Marilyn howled, launching herself across the room and clawing at his face with her long acrylic nails. "I SPENT THIRTY YEARS WITH YOU! I DEFENDED YOU! I HELPED YOU!"
"GET OFF ME, YOU CRAZY BITCH!" Frank yelled, shoving her backward off the bed.
The fight exploded into physical violence. Furniture was overturned, lamps were smashed, and screaming filled the hallway.
Three minutes later, hotel management called the police.
Two Chicago police officers arrived at room 214 to find Frank bleeding from three deep scratches on his cheek, Marilyn screaming hysterically in the corner, and the room entirely destroyed.
Both Frank and Marilyn Cole were arrested on domestic battery charges, handcuffed in front of the entire hotel staff, and loaded into the back of separate police cruisers.
When Ethan finally arrived at the motel after being fired from his job, he found room 214 sealed with yellow police tape.
He stood in the narrow carpeted hallway of the cheap motel, holding a legal folder in one hand and his phone in the other, completely alone.
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No money. No job. No home. No family left intact.
He sank down against the wall, pulled his knees to his chest in the hallway, and finally, hopelessly, began to cry.
