Chapter 6 - Damian's Awakening
While I was meeting Maribel, Damian was discovering what corporate betrayal felt like in real-time.
He arrived at Apex Global’s regional headquarters on the forty-second floor of the downtown Meridian Tower, intending to demand an explanation from Maribel. He still believed—in his pathetic, self-absorbed vanity—that she had some romantic attachment to him, that she would soothe his anxieties and tell him it was all a misunderstanding with his "hysterical" wife.
Instead, when he swiped his keycard at the glass security turnstiles, the light flashed red. A harsh buzz echoed across the marble lobby.
"Mr. Vance?"
The head of building security stepped out from behind the desk, flanked by two armed guards.
"There's an issue with my card, Frank," Damian said, forcing a nervous chuckle. "Must have demagnetized."
"Your credentials have been administratively suspended, Mr. Vance," the guard said without a hint of warmth. "By order of Ms. Kane. You are permitted to enter only under escort to retrieve your personal belongings from Suite 4200."
"Suspended?!" Damian's voice cracked. "I'm the Regional Director! Maribel Kane is my direct report line—call her right now!"
"Ms. Kane issued the directive thirty minutes ago, sir. Hand over your corporate phone and badge, please."
Twenty minutes later, Damian was standing on the sidewalk outside the skyscraper, holding a cardboard box containing his desk plant, his framed MBA diploma, and a few novelty pens. His corporate cell phone had been wiped and confiscated. His company email access was terminated.
When he tried to log into his banking app to verify his direct deposit, an error message popped up: *Account Flagged: Under Employer Compliance Review.*
The reality of his disposable nature hit him like a physical blow.
He staggered to his sedan, threw the cardboard box into the passenger seat, and buried his face in the steering wheel. The woman who had told him he was brilliant, the woman who had leaned across candlelit steakhouse tables to whisper about his "raw executive magnetism," had cut his throat without breaking a sweat.
His phone buzzed. It was a text on his private number from an unlisted address.
It contained an attached PDF: a copy of an incident report filed with the State Department of Commerce, alleging that Damian Vance had unauthorizedly forged safety inspection logs for the Marion County distribution hub.
Underneath was a single sentence:
*“Be a good boy and take the blame, Damian. Or your wife’s family home is collateral for the restitution bond.”*
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Damian threw the phone against the dashboard, sobbing in pure, unadulterated terror. He finally understood what Iris had known all along: he wasn't the king of the board. He was the pawn meant to be swept off the table.
***