Chapter Eleven: The Last Asset
“Mr. Sterling,” Arthur said, placing his glasses back on his nose.
“I must say, you are a difficult man to schedule a meeting with.”
“Get off my property,” Harrison said.
But the fight had drained out of him.
He sounded like a child.
“Your property?”
Arthur raised an eyebrow.
He pulled a file from the passenger seat of the Range Rover.
“Blue Heron Properties LLC, incorporated in Delaware.”
“Yes,” Harrison said.
“It’s mine.”
“It was,” Arthur corrected.
“You see, Blue Heron Properties failed to pay its annual registration fee in Delaware last month. An administrative oversight on your part. I assume you were busy with the divorce.”
Harrison felt his knees weaken.
He had forgotten.
He had forgotten the three-hundred-dollar fee.
“When an LLC goes dormant for non-payment,” Arthur explained, his voice sounding like a lecture on contract law, “its name becomes available.”
He smiled thinly.
“The Caldwell Trust re-registered Blue Heron Properties LLC two days ago. We paid the back taxes. We assumed the assets. Including this charming, albeit drafty, cabin.”
Arthur gestured to the troopers.
“Officer, this man is trespassing on private land owned by the trust. He has also, I believe, broken a window to gain entry. That is breaking and entering.”
The trooper stepped forward, his hand resting on his belt.
“Harrison Sterling.”
Harrison looked at the woods.
He could run. He could bolt into the trees.
But where would he go?
He had no money. No car. No coat.
It was dropping below freezing tonight.
He looked at Arthur.
“She planned this. She knew I would come here.”
“Ms. Caldwell knows you better than you know yourself,” Arthur said.
“She knew you would seek out your safety net. She wanted to make sure you understood that there is no net. Not anymore.”
“What does she want?”
Harrison whispered.
“She has the money. She has the company. She has the house. What else does she want?”
Arthur walked up the porch steps, the wood groaning under his weight.
He stopped inches from Harrison.
“She wants an apology, Mr. Sterling. A real one.”
“An apology?”
Harrison scoffed—a jagged, broken sound.
“For what? For falling out of love?”
“No,” Arthur said, his eyes hard behind the lenses.
“For the laughter. You laughed when you signed the papers, Harrison. You treated her dignity like a joke. The trust doesn’t care about your infidelity. But the Caldwells? They take manners very seriously.”
The trooper pulled out his handcuffs.
“Turn around, sir.”
As the cold metal clicked around his wrists, Harrison looked at Arthur one last time.
“Where are you taking me? Jail?”
“Eventually,” Arthur said, checking his watch.
“But first, we have a detour. Ms. Caldwell has requested your presence. She believes it is time to close the loop.”
“I’m not going back to the vault,” Harrison said, panic rising.
“Oh, no.”
Arthur smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes.
“We aren’t going to the vault. We’re going to the library.”
“The library? What library?”
“The New York Public Library,” Arthur said, opening the back door of the Range Rover.
“The Rose Reading Room. It’s where you met her, isn’t it? She thinks it’s poetic.”
Harrison was shoved into the back of the SUV.
The leather smelled of expensive conditioner—the same smell as the conference room where this nightmare began.
As the car crunched down the gravel drive, leaving the foxhole behind, Harrison realized he wasn’t just broke.
He was being erased.
And the woman holding the eraser was waiting for him exactly where he had found her.
Among the books.
