Chapter 4 - The Ruin of a Reputable Son
The corporate fallout hit Ethan Thorne like a supersonic shockwave. At 2:00 PM that afternoon, he was sitting in his glass office at Thorne Logistics, trying to draft an email to a crisis management PR firm using his remaining personal savings, when his office door was thrown open so hard the glass partition rattled.
His regional director, a harsh, unyielding man named Harrison Cole, stood in the doorway, a termination notice in his hand.
"Pack your bags, Thorne. You're done," Harrison said, tossing the document onto Ethan’s desk.
Ethan blinked, his heart racing. "Harrison? What are you talking about? The quarterly numbers are up twelve percent! I'm in line for the vice presidency!"
"You were in line for a federal investigation, you idiot," Harrison hissed, stepping into the office and closing the door. "LuxeVerve just pulled their entire distribution contract. They represent forty million dollars of our annual recurring revenue in this sector. Their legal team cited a material breach of the corporate ethics clause, and they attached a video file from your wife's kitchen."
Ethan’s face turned an ash-gray color. "The... the video?"
"Your mother threw boiling water on the senior brand strategist of our largest client inside a house that she owns!" Harrison shouted, his face turning an angry purple. "Do you have any idea how toxic your name is right now? The board of directors held an emergency session ten minutes ago. You are terminated for cause, effective immediately. Your stock options are voided under the moral turpitude clause, and your corporate vehicle lease is being revoked as we speak."
"No... no, please, Harrison!" Ethan cried, standing up, his hands trembling as he reached for his jacket. "It was my mother! I didn't throw the water! I was at work! I didn't do anything!"
"That's exactly why you're fired, Thorne," Harrison said, looking at him with pure disgust. "You didn't do anything. You let a psycho live in a client's house, assault her, and then you tried to cover it up by calling your wife crazy to the local press. Security is waiting outside to escort you from the building. Don't touch the computer; the forensic IT team is already locking your access keys."
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As Ethan was marched through the open-concept office by two burly security guards, his former employees looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. The perfect, respectable son who always talked about "professional standards" had been exposed as a fraudulent dependent, living off the brilliance of a woman he had allowed his family to butcher.
He stepped out onto the concrete plaza of the corporate park, the cold Oceanside wind biting through his shirt. His phone buzzed in his hand—a notification from his bank: ACCOUNT OVERDRAWN. COVERAGE LIMIT EXCEEDED.
