Chapter 3 - The Eviction at the Lunch Table
The atmosphere inside Le Petit Chateaux, Chicago’s most exclusive Michelin-starred restaurant, was a picture of high-society opulence. Crystal chandeliers hung from the gilded ceilings, and the soft murmur of wealthy patrons was accompanied by the gentle clinking of champagne flutes.
At the center table, Jasper sat like a king. He had draped his arm over the back of his chair, a smug smile plastered across his face. To his left sat his mother, Gillian, who was busy examining her diamond rings, and his sister, Priscilla, who was loudly telling the waiter how she only drank imported sparkling water.
"To Jasper," Gillian raised her glass, her eyes shining with greed. "The next tech billionaire of Chicago. It’s about time you took your rightful place, darling. And frankly, I'm glad we didn't bring Hailey. She would have ruined the aesthetic of this place with her dreary, tired face."
"She’s just so dramatic," Priscilla scoffed, taking a sip of her champagne. "Acted like a C-section was some kind of heroic feat. Millions of women do it every day. She should be glad you even gave her money for the bus. Most maids don't even get that."
Jasper laughed, swirling his wine. "She’ll be fine. She’s probably home right now, cleaning up the nursery and heating up those leftovers. She knows her place. Let’s focus on the investors. Once the Robertson Global subsidiary signs the final contract tomorrow, we’ll be moving into a mansion in Lake Forest."
"Hear, hear!" Gillian cheered.
But before their glasses could clink, the heavy glass doors of the restaurant were pushed open.
A group of six men in tailored black suits walked in. They did not look like diners; they moved with a synchronized, intimidating authority that immediately quieted the entire room. Leading them was Marcus, Finnley Robertson’s head of security, flanked by two corporate lawyers carrying leather briefcases.
The restaurant manager hurried forward, but Marcus simply showed him a badge of authority that made the manager instantly step back and bow his head.
Marcus walked directly to Jasper’s table.
Jasper frowned, his smile faltering. "Can I help you? This is a private family lunch."
"Jasper Vance?" Marcus asked, his voice echoing clearly across the silent restaurant.
"Yes, that's me," Jasper said, puffing out his chest. "I'm the CEO of Vance Tech. If you're looking for an autograph or a partnership—"
"I am here on behalf of Robertson Global Corp and the legal owners of the black luxury SUV parked in the valet lot," Marcus interrupted, gesturing to one of the lawyers.
The lawyer stepped forward, opening his briefcase and sliding a document directly onto Jasper's plate, ruining his expensive truffle pasta.
"What is the meaning of this?!" Gillian shrieked, standing up. "Do you know who my son is? He is a major tech entrepreneur!"
"Your son is currently in possession of a stolen vehicle," Marcus said coldly. "The black SUV was purchased and registered under the Robertson Global executive fleet. It was loaned to Hailey Robertson—now Hailey Vance—under the strict condition of her personal use. Since you have stripped her of the vehicle and forced her onto public transit during a medical recovery, the lease is terminated. Effective immediately."
Jasper’s face drained of color. "Wait... Hailey Robertson? No, her father is Finnley Robertson. He’s just a retired builder! He has a small local construction firm!"
The lawyer chuckled, a dry, mocking sound. "Finnley Robertson founded Robertson Global. His construction 'firm' built half of the Chicago skyline and holds a net worth of fifteen billion dollars. And your startup, Vance Tech?" The lawyer leaned in. "Our firm owns eighty percent of your seed funding. Or rather... we did."
Marcus reached down and snatched the keys to the luxury SUV right off the table.
"Valet has already cleared the vehicle of any of your personal belongings," Marcus said, tossing a black garbage bag onto the floor beside Jasper’s chair. "Your gym clothes and your mother's cheap perfume are in there. You have five minutes to vacate this establishment before the police arrive to arrest you for grand theft auto."
"This is a mistake!" Jasper panicked, his voice cracking as he stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the marble floor. "Let me call Hailey! She wouldn't do this to me!"
"Mrs. Vance is currently under her father's protection," Marcus said. "And as of ten minutes ago, your corporate credit cards, which are backed by our venture capital trust, have been frozen."
May you like
Right on cue, the head waiter stepped forward with the bill for their lunch. "Monsieur, your card has been declined. The total is twelve hundred dollars. How will you be paying?"
Jasper, Gillian, and Priscilla stood frozen under the mocking stares of Chicago's elite. The crown had not just slipped from Jasper’s head; it had been shattered into a million pieces.
