Chapter 6 - THE CO-SIGNER
Savannah let go of the doorknob as if it had burned her. "He couldn't have! I never signed anything about Cayman loans!"
"You sign a lot of things without reading them, my dear," Charles muttered, a bitter, hollow laugh escaping his chest. "You thought you were just signing the lease renewal for your boutique. I slipped the loan guarantees into the stack."
The betrayal was complete. The predator had been preyed upon, but the prey had also set a trap of his own.
"You bastard!" Savannah screamed, launching herself at Charles. She raked her manicured nails across his cheek before two of the investors pulled her back.
"You wanted to play business, Savannah," Charles spat, touching the bloody scratch on his face. "Welcome to the boardroom. If I go down, your family goes down with me. Those offshore lenders don't send collection notices. They send enforcers."
Savannah collapsed into a chair, sobbing hysterically. Her designer dress looked suddenly ridiculous, a costume for a play that had just been canceled.
In my kitchen, I felt a deep, overwhelming sadness. Not for Charles, but for the man he used to be. The man who danced with me in the dark.
Mr. Sterling pulled out his phone. "I'm calling the authorities, Charles. Fraud, forgery, embezzlement. You're finished in this city."
Charles ignored him. He stumbled toward the webcam, his eyes pleading.
"Eleanor," he begged, his voice breaking. "El, please. Twenty-six years. We built this together. You can't let them take me away. Pay the loans. You have the holding company. You have the money. Just clear the debt, and I swear to you, I'll walk away. I'll leave you the house, the cars, everything."
He was crying now. Genuine tears of a man who realized he had burned his own house down and had nowhere left to run.
I looked at him through the screen.
"You already left me, Charles," I said softly. "You left me in a hospital bed while you tried to steal my father's legacy."
"Please, Eleanor!"
I reached out and touched the edge of my laptop. "Margaret?"
In the restaurant, Margaret stood up straight. "Yes, Eleanor?"
"Give him the envelope."
Charles wiped his face, a glimmer of desperate hope returning to his eyes. "An envelope? You brought a check?"
Margaret reached into her briefcase one last time. But she didn't pull out a checkbook.
May you like
She pulled out a thick, legal envelope bearing the seal of the State of Illinois Family Court.
"It's not a check, Charles," Margaret said, extending it toward him. "It's a temporary restraining order. And a notice of immediate asset seizure."
