Chapter 5 - Maya’s Counter-Move
While Tyler was embarrassing himself online, my attorney Maya Torres was dismantling Bennett Commercial piece by piece in the legal arena.
On Wednesday afternoon, Maya sat across from me in my office, spreading out a thick file of financial documents across my wooden conference table.
“Your father’s corporate veil is about to shatter, Claire,” Maya said, adjusting her glasses with a satisfied smile. “When we dug into the subsidiary accounts after your revocation notice, we found something fascinating.”
“Embezzlement?” I guessed.
“Worse. Gross corporate mismanagement bordering on fraud,” Maya said, tapping a certified bank statement. “Three months ago, when Bennett Commercial’s cash flow dried up, Arthur didn’t just rely on your guarantees. He quietly transferred four hundred thousand dollars from the employee pension trust fund into his personal operating account to cover payroll and—ironically—Tyler’s luxury car leases.”
My breath caught. “The employee pension? That’s illegal. That’s federal territory.”
“It’s a felony,” Maya confirmed calmly. “When the federal Department of Labor audits a frozen commercial account, they don’t care if you’re a family patriarch or a pillar of the local chamber. They care about missing retirement funds for thirty loyal warehouse workers who have been there for fifteen years.”
“If the DOL steps in, Dad isn’t just looking at civil bankruptcy,” I murmured, watching the afternoon sunlight filter through the shop windows. “He’s looking at prison time.”
“Unless he agrees to a structured liquidation and immediate asset surrender to make the pension whole,” Maya said. “Which brings me to why I’m here. Arthur’s defense attorney called me an hour ago. They want to negotiate.”
“Negotiate what?”
“A quiet settlement. They want you to reinstate a partial guarantee for a bridge loan, and in exchange, they promise to drop any public counter-claims regarding your 2018 client list.”
I let out a dry, humorless laugh. “My 2018 client list consisted of three interior designers in Portland and my college roommate. What counter-claims?”
“Desperation claims, Claire. They’re throwing anything at the wall hoping something sticks.” Maya closed the folder. “What’s your call? Do we let the federal regulators drop the hammer, or do we use this leverage to settle once and for all?”
“I don’t want a single penny of Bennett Commercial, Maya,” I said firmly. “And I certainly won't sign another guarantee. But those thirty warehouse workers didn’t slap me. They didn’t steal from the pension fund. Is there a way we can carve out the warehouse assets to protect the employees while letting Arthur face the music?”
May you like
Maya looked at me with deep professional respect. “As it turns out, there is. Marcus Vance at Vance & Associates has been looking to acquire a primary fulfillment hub on the east side of town. If we coordinate the bankruptcy receivership, Marcus can buy the warehouse out of liquidation, rehire the entire warehouse staff under a new logistics subsidiary, and leave Arthur with nothing but legal bills.”
“Do it,” I said without hesitation. “Execute the plan.”
