Chapter Four: The Margin Call
“So what now?”
Harrison tried to regain his composure.
He squared his shoulders.
“You have money. Congratulations. I have my company. I built Sterling Dynamics. I’ll find a new building. I’ll fight the eviction in court. I have lawyers too, Saraphina.”
Saraphina sighed—a sound of genuine disappointment.
She signaled to Elias Thorne, who appeared from the shadows.
“Mr. Sterling,” Thorne said, opening a leather folio.
“You don’t seem to understand the liquidity crisis you are currently facing.”
“I have fifty million in personal holdings,” Harrison spat.
“I’m fine.”
“You had fifty million in equity,” Thorne corrected.
“However, your personal wealth was tied to a line of credit from First Manhattan Bank. You used your Sterling Dynamics stock as collateral to buy your penthouse, your yacht, and your stake in that winery in Napa.”
“So?”
“So, First Manhattan Bank,” Thorne said, peering over his glasses, “is a subsidiary of the Caldwell Financial Group.”
Harrison stopped breathing.
“When Sterling Dynamics lost its lease this morning, the stock price plummeted forty percent in pre-market trading. That triggered a margin call on your personal loans. The bank demanded additional collateral within four hours.”
“A margin call?”
“You failed to meet the deadline,” Thorne continued, flipping a page.
“The bank has exercised its right to seize collateral to cover the spread. As of ten a.m., the bank has seized your stock. But since the stock is crashing, it wasn’t enough to cover the debt. So they have moved to secondary assets. Your penthouse. The yacht. The cars.”
He closed the folio.
“Your accounts have been frozen pending liquidation.”
Harrison looked at Saraphina.
She wasn’t smiling.
She looked sad.
“You’re bankrupt, Harrison,” she said quietly.
“Actually, you’re worse than bankrupt. You owe the trust about twelve million dollars. We are garnishing your future wages.”
“You can’t do this,” Harrison whispered.
“This is vindictive. This is insane.”
“It’s business,” Saraphina said, using the exact tone Harrison had used on her in the conference room three days ago.
“It’s a transaction. I’m stripping a liability from my balance sheet.”
She turned to leave.
“Wait.”
Harrison lunged at the bars, grabbing the cold steel.
“Saraphina, you can’t leave me with nothing. We were married.”
She paused and looked back over her shoulder.
“You left with exactly what you negotiated, Harrison. You kept the portfolio. I kept the principles.”
Her eyes were ice.
“It just so happens that your portfolio was built on sand. And my principles are built on gold.”
“How am I supposed to live?” he shouted, his voice cracking.
“I have nowhere to go.”
Saraphina looked at Thorne.
“Give him the stipend.”
Thorne reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white envelope.
He slid it through the bars.
Harrison stared at it on the floor.
“What is this?”
“The same amount you gave Saraphina for incidentals during the separation,” Thorne said.
“Five thousand dollars cash. Consider it a parting gift.”
Saraphina walked toward the elevator.
The governor opened the gate for her.
“Saraphina.”
Harrison screamed, the sound tearing at his throat.
“Sarah. Please.”
The heavy steel doors of the elevator slid shut, cutting off the vision of the woman in white.
Harrison Sterling was left standing in the subterranean cold, staring at a billion dollars of gold he couldn’t touch, with five thousand dollars in an envelope at his feet.
