Chapter 4 - THE EMPEROR'S NEW FALL
By 4:30 p.m., Richard Patterson found himself standing on the polished marble steps of Patterson Cyber Systems carrying a single cardboard box containing a framed photo of himself, a ceramic coffee mug, and a few desk trinkets. Security had escorted him out through the loading dock after freezing his personal credit cards tied to the corporate account.
His phone was blowing up with frantic notifications. Bank alerts. Car lease cancellation notices. Club memberships revoked.
He dialed Naomi's cell phone for the fifteenth time.
“The subscriber you have dialed is no longer accepting calls from this number.”
"Dammit!" Richard cursed, throwing his phone into the cardboard box. He hailed a cab—paying cash from the twenty-dollar bill he happened to have in his pocket—and directed the driver to their multi-million-dollar home in Bellevue. Surely, once he got home, once he sat down with Naomi and explained things, they could talk sense into her. He could spin some lie about the baby—say it was an old friend's child, or a distant relative, or a terrible misunderstanding. Naomi was gentle. Naomi loved him. She had always forgiven him before.
When the taxi pulled up to the wrought-iron gates of the estate, Richard punched in the security code on the keypad.
Access Denied. Please Contact Property Administrator.
Richard cursed loudly, getting out of the cab and walking up to press the intercom buzzer. After a long moment, a private security guard appeared on the camera screen.
"Can I help you, sir?" the guard asked politely, though his tone was entirely devoid of respect.
"Open the damn gate!" Richard demanded, shaking the iron bars. "I live here! I am Richard Patterson! Mrs. Patterson is my wife!"
"Actually, Mr. Patterson," the guard replied smoothly, "Chin Holdings LLC has terminated your residential occupancy rights effective immediately. You are legally restricted from entering the premises. Your personal belongings are currently being packed into storage units paid for through the end of the month. Here is the address."
A slip of paper slid out of a small automated slot beside the gate pillar.
Richard stood frozen in the cold Seattle drizzle, staring at the slip of paper as the rain began to soak through his expensive wool suit. Passersby walked past on the sidewalk, glancing curiously at the disheveled man standing outside the iron gates of the grand estate.
His phone buzzed in the box. A text message from an unknown number.
It was a photo.
It showed a sleeping newborn baby swaddled in a pink blanket, resting peacefully in a crib. Beneath it was a single sentence: Say hello to your son, Richard. Hope your new apartment has good heating.
Richard's knees went weak. The mistress—Chloe—had sent it. Not because she cared about him, but because she had just realized that the golden goose had just been slaughtered, and she was left holding a baby with a man who was suddenly broke, unemployed, and homeless.
He dialed Chloe's number with trembling fingers.
"Hello?" Chloe's voice sounded panicked and sharp.
"Chloe, listen to me," Richard stammered, raindrops dripping off his nose. "There's been a terrible situation. We need to talk—"
"Don't call me!" Chloe shrieked over the phone. "Your assistant Jennifer just called me to say you got fired and evicted! What the hell is going on, Richard? You told me you owned this company! You told me you were a billionaire!"
"I am! I mean, I was—Naomi rigged the contracts—"
"I don't care about your wife or your contracts!" Chloe screamed, and the sound of a baby crying wailed in the background. "Don't ever contact me again!"
Click.
The line went dead.
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Richard stood alone in the dark, the rain pouring down on his shoulders, realizing with absolute, crushing clarity that he had destroyed his entire life in pursuit of a lie, throwing away a woman who had given him everything for a moment of hollow vanity.
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