Home Entertainment Game Technology Advertisement Chapter 1: I never told my wife’s family I owned the $16.9M company that paid their salaries. h6368

*whirrr-clank.*

At precisely `00:00:00`, as Christmas Eve gave way to Christmas Day, a single green phosphor status line illuminated across the master analog display:

`SYSTEM STATUS: SOVEREIGN REVERSION COMPLETE`

`RECORDED OWNERS: COMMANDER DANIEL ARTHUR MERCER-WHITAKER`

`RECORDED HEIR: SOPHIE ELEANOR MERCER-WHITAKER`

`LINEAL CUSTODY: UN-ENCUMBERED FEE SIMPLE ABSOLUTE`

`THE VALKYRIE TRUST: PERMANENTLY FORFEITED & VACATED`

`ANNIVERSARY DEADLINE: CERTIFIED & CLOSED`

`CONDUIT TEN: ARMED, SECURE, AND HELD IN TRUST FOR THE REPUBLIC`

I turned the key one-quarter turn to the right, locking the master conduit from the inside forever:

*SNAP.*

The hydraulic scuttle valves locked from the inside.

The four-inch titanium deadbolts shot home into the bedrock.

The line was plumb.

The foundation stood upon solid stone.

The ledger was closed forever.

***

Monday morning. December 28th. 09:00 EST.

At the sprawling Indian Hill estate of Martin Collins, thirty-two members of the Collins family had gathered once again in the formal dining room for an emergency family strategy meeting.

Martin Collins sat at the head of the table in his cashmere sweater, his face dark with irritation, holding an un-opened bottle of scotch:

“I haven’t been able to reach Claire on her cell phone since Christmas morning!” Martin barked to the room:

“Her car is missing from the garage, her lawyer isn’t returning my calls, and Daniel’s phone has been disconnected! Gregory, did you check the downtown maintenance yard?”

Gregory slumped in his chair, rubbing his forehead:

“The gate was locked, Dad. The security guard told me my company keycard was invalid. He said there was an administrative system reboot.”

Before Martin could reply…

The front doorbell chimed three times: *DING-DONG.*

Outside the newly installed plywood temporary front door stood four uniformed armed federal postal marshals, flanked by two private corporate process servers wearing the gold crest of Whitaker Construction.

In their hands, stacked in heavy, red-ribboned legal dispatch boxes, were **forty-seven certified corporate termination packets**.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *