Chapter 4 - THE HOUSE OF CARDS
The fallout was swift, brutal, and thoroughly covered by the Austin real estate press.
Within seventy-two hours of the confrontation at the Frost Bank Tower, the narrative Nathan had spent a decade crafting was in tatters. The headline on the front page of the Austin Business Journal read: REED DEVELOPMENT EXPELS NAMESAKE FOUNDER AMID FORENSIC AUDIT; CARTER HERITAGE ASSUMES DIRECT CONTROL.
Nathan was living out of a dingy extended-stay motel off Highway 183. The carpet smelled of stale ozone and forgotten cigarettes, a universe away from the five-hundred-thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets he had slept on three days prior.
His Audi had been repossessed on Monday morning. It turned out the vehicle wasn't leased by the firm; it had been acquired via an executive lease-to-own arrangement that collapsed the moment his employment was terminated. He had been forced to buy a twelve-year-old Honda Civic with mismatched tires using the remaining balance on his mother’s emergency loan.
Desperation drove him to the offices of Marcus Sterling.
Sterling was one of Austin’s premier venture capitalists, an old-money Texan who had co-invested with Nathan on three major industrial developments. Nathan sat in Sterling’s private lounge, gripping a paper cup of lukewarm water, waiting for the man who used to invite him to his Hill Country ranch for dove hunting.
When Sterling finally entered, he didn't offer a handshake. He kept his hands deep in the pockets of his tailored trousers.
“You’ve got five minutes, Nathan. I have an investment committee call at ten.”
“Marcus, thank God,” Nathan said, jumping to his feet. “You’ve seen the press. It’s a smear campaign. Olivia has orchestrated a hostile takeover using hyper-technical clauses in our old operating agreement. If you can back me—give me a bridge loan of two million—I can launch Reed Capital and secure the zoning rights on the South Congress parcel before she moves on it.”
Sterling looked at him with an expression of quiet disgust. “Are you delusional, Nathan?”
Nathan froze. “Marcus, we’ve made millions together.”
“No,” Sterling said, his voice flat. “Olivia made millions for us. You were the guy who bought the drinks at the bar and smiled for the cameras at the groundbreaking ceremonies. Do you honestly think none of us knew who was running that firm?”
The blood rushed to Nathan’s ears. “I was the rainmaker! I negotiated the land purchases!”
“You brought in the proposals Olivia vetted, priced, and structured,” Sterling snapped. “Whenever you overpromised to the city planning commission, it was Olivia who showed up with revised infrastructure plans to keep the permits alive. Whenever you blew the construction budget on Italian marble finishes to stroke your own ego, Olivia renegotiated the subcontractor liens.”
Sterling took a step closer.
“Two weeks ago, Olivia met with every primary institutional investor in Reed Development. She presented a ten-year retrospective analysis of our returns with and without your personal interventions. Do you know what the data showed? Your personal vanity projects cost the firm an aggregate of fourteen million dollars over five years. Every penny of it covered by her family trust.”
Nathan’s knees felt hollow. “She... she planned this two weeks ago?”
“She planned this months ago, son. And what’s worse, you were using corporate accounts to fund a junior broker’s luxury lifestyle. The city’s development community is small. Nobody is going to touch you. You’re radioactive.”
Sterling pointed toward the door. “Take some advice, Nathan. Sign whatever she gives you. Disappear to Dallas or Houston, get an entry-level commercial listing desk, and rebuild from scratch. Because in this town, your name is mud.”
Nathan walked out into the blazing midday Texas heat, the pavement radiating heat through the thin soles of his loafers. He pulled out his phone. He had three missed calls from collections agencies, two from Arthur Vance demanding payment for his legal fees, and none from Madison.
He dialled Madison’s number again anyway.
The number you have dialed has been disconnected or is no longer in service.
May you like
She had changed her number. She had abandoned the office. Rumor had it she had fled back to her parents’ house in Scottsdale to avoid subpoenas from the real estate board.
Nathan was entirely, completely alone.
