He needs the firm’s safety net more than you do, Julian, my father declared across the formal dinner table, cutting my monthly commission allocation by $14,500 to pay my ex-partner Marcus’s luxur...
The day after Moretti’s ultimatum, chaos erupted at the firm. I was in the middle of preparing the final clawback papers when my office door burst open. Two burly men, identifying themselves as state court bailiffs, stood in the doorway.
“Julian Brooks?” one of them asked, his voice booming.
“Yes,” I replied, my hand pausing over the keyboard.
He thrust a stack of documents at me. “You’ve been served with an emergency injunction. State court.”
My eyes immediately scanned the top page. My blood ran cold.
“Marcus Kincaid vs. Julian Brooks: Accusation of Corporate Embezzlement and Asset Theft.”
I looked up, stunned. “This is a fabrication! I haven’t embezzled anything.”
“That’s for the court to decide, sir,” the bailiff said, unmoved. “These orders restrict your temporary access to all firm accounts and proprietary information until a preliminary hearing can be set.”
He added, “Any attempt to finalize or execute further corporate actions regarding Mr. Kincaid’s assets will be viewed as contempt of court and will result in immediate arrest.”
My mind reeled. Marcus, in a desperate, last-ditch effort, was filing a false emergency motion. He was trying to buy himself time by tying me up in a fabricated legal battle, hoping to stall my ability to finalize the revocation papers.
“This is a desperate move,” I said, trying to regain my composure. “He’s trying to prevent me from exposing his fraud.”
“We’re just serving the papers, sir,” the other bailiff stated, already turning to leave. “You have your orders.”
They left as abruptly as they arrived, leaving me with a new mountain of legal paperwork and a crushing sense of urgency. Marcus was not only trying to discredit me, but to physically lock me out of the firm, preventing me from completing the very actions that would seal his fate.
Evelyn, who had witnessed the scene from her office across the hall, rushed in. “He’s trying to immobilize you, Julian. To prevent the statutory clawback.”
“He’s running out of options,” I said, tossing the papers onto my desk. “But this buys him a few hours, maybe a day, to figure something out.”
The clock on Moretti’s ultimatum was still ticking, and now Marcus had thrown another legal wrench into the works, risking a contempt charge to stall my inevitable victory. The “misunderstanding” of Marcus’s desperation was fully resolved; he would do anything, lie about anything, to save himself.
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