Chapter 2 - THE COLD SNAP
Nathan didn’t remember the drive home. His brain was stuck on an endless, sickening loop of phone calls that went straight to voicemail. His COO wouldn't answer. His corporate counsel replied with a chillingly brief auto-text: Refer all inquiries regarding Reed Development Group to Holloway & Associates.
When he finally pulled his Audi into the circular driveway of the Clover Mill Drive estate, the house was dark. The sweeping limestone modern farmhouse they had built three years ago looked like a mausoleum.
He shoved his key into the front deadbolt. It turned, but the latch wouldn't retract. He tried again, twisting hard until the brass key bent with a sickening snap.
Nathan banged his fist against the reinforced mahogany door. “Olivia! Open the damn door!”
A spotlight suddenly flared to life from the security post near the gate. A uniformed private security guard stepped out of an unmarked black SUV parked on the curb.
“Mr. Reed?” the guard called out calmly, holding a flashlight at waist level.
Nathan whipped around, furious. “Who the hell are you? Get off my property!”
“Actually, sir, you need to step away from the entrance,” the guard said, approaching with measured steps. “This property is held in the Carter Revocable Living Trust. I’ve been instructed by Mrs. Carter’s legal team to enforce the temporary restraining and trespass order filed in Travis County District Court at three o'clock today.”
The guard held out a laminated document.
“A restraining order?” Nathan choked on the words. “This is my house! I picked the lot! I managed the contractors!”
“Your personal belongings have been inventoried and transferred to an off-site climate-controlled storage facility in North Austin,” the guard replied mechanically. “The access code and key were included in the package delivered to you at Aurelius. If you do not leave the premises immediately, I am required to notify the Austin Police Department.”
Nathan looked up at the master bedroom window. For a split second, he thought he saw the sheer curtain twitch. He thought he saw the outline of a silhouette holding a coffee mug, watching him down on the stones like a stranded trespasser.
He didn't call the police. The scandal of having squad cars with flashing lights outside his home would leak to the Austin Business Journal within minutes.
With his phone battery at nine percent, Nathan backed out of the driveway, his tires screeching against the asphalt. He drove to the Granduca Hotel, his mind racing through contingency plans. He still had his personal accounts. He had his reputation. He was Nathan Reed, the man who turned the East Austin industrial corridor into mixed-use gold.
He approached the reception desk of the hotel with forced swagger. “One suite. King bed. Put it on this.” He slapped down his personal black platinum credit card.
The clerk ran the magnetic strip. A dull beep followed. The clerk frowned, ran it again, and gave Nathan a polite, pitying look. “I’m sorry, Mr. Reed. It’s showing a administrative freeze by the issuing bank.”
“Try this one.” Nathan tossed a Visa.
Beep.
“Same result, sir. The system says all accounts tied to this Social Security number have been flagged under a marital asset preservation injunction.”
Nathan felt a cold sweat coat the back of his neck. “Every account?”
“I’m afraid so. Do you have an alternate payment method? Cash, perhaps?”
Nathan pulled out his leather wallet. He counted three crumpled twenty-dollar bills, a ten, and two ones. Seventy-two dollars. That was the liquid cash value of the real estate mogul who had, six hours earlier, sneered that his wife was dead weight.
He walked out of the hotel lobby and sat in his car, the engine idling. The phone buzzed on the passenger seat. He lunged for it, hoping against hope that Olivia was calling to negotiate, to establish terms, to demand the groveling apology he was now violently ready to give.
The screen lit up with a text from Madison Cole.
May you like
Don’t call me. Don’t come to my apartment. I spoke with my father’s attorney tonight. If you mention my name in connection with those misappropriated corporate funds, I will file workplace harassment charges against you personally. We are done.
Nathan dropped the phone onto the floorboards, buried his face in his hands, and breathed in the scent of expensive leather that he was no longer certain he owned.
