Chapter 3 - Crashing the Rooftop: Derek’s Fragile Corporate Lie
The dining room table remained frozen in an agonizing paralysis.
Derek looked down, finally noticing the leather-bound property portfolio sitting wide open between his father’s trembling hands. His eyes flicked to the official county seal, then to my name listed as sole proprietor, and finally up to my face.
His jaw dropped. “What... what is this? Maya, what’s going on?”
“Your sister owns the hotel, Derek,” Cassandra hissed under her breath, her voice laced with bitter venom and frantic anxiety. “She owns the entire damn building, and she’s sitting on millions while you’re about to get indicted!”
Derek blinked, the color rapidly draining from his cheeks until he looked like a ghost under the soft candlelight. “You... you own the Aldren?”
“I do,” I said. “And more importantly, I just heard you admit to grand larceny and securities fraud in the middle of my dining room.”
“Keep your voice down!” Arthur snapped, lunging forward across the table, his eyes wild with desperate fury. “You keep your mouth shut, Maya! You don’t understand how the financial world works! Mistakes happen in accounting! Derek didn't steal anything—it was an administrative transfer error!”
“An administrative error that requires an immediate, off-the-books sixty-thousand-dollar cash infusion before Monday’s banking audit?” I asked, arching an eyebrow. “Do you really think I’m that naive, Arthur?”
Derek collapsed into the empty chair beside Cassandra, burying his face in his hands. “Maya, please. You don't understand the pressure I’ve been under. Hollis expects us to bring in high-net-worth accounts, but the market has been brutal. I took a short position using discretionary client funds, planning to replace it as soon as the dividend hit. The stock tanked. If Hollis finds out it wasn't a clerical delay, my career is finished. I’ll lose my license. I’ll go to federal prison.”
Evelyn burst into quiet, performative sobs, dabbing at her mascara with a monogrammed linen napkin. “Maya, he’s your brother! Your only brother! If Derek goes to prison, our family name will be utterly destroyed! Think of how people at the club will look at us! You have the money—you have this entire palace! How can you sit there with a cold heart and watch your own blood drown?”
“Where was that family loyalty when you emptied my college account?” I asked, my voice deadly calm. “Where was your maternal concern when I was sleeping in a 2004 Honda Civic behind a 24-hour laundromat in Columbia, trying to study for finals while working sixteen-hour shifts at a diner?”
“That was different!” Evelyn cried softly. “You were resilient! You always knew how to survive! Derek is sensitive—he has a high standing to maintain!”
“Sensitive?” I let out a dry, humorless chuckle. “No, Evelyn. Derek is an entitled thief who has never faced a single consequence in his entire privileged life because his parents stole from his sister to clean up his messes.”
Before Arthur could shout another threat, the brass elevator doors slid open again.
A tall, silver-haired man wearing an impeccably tailored Brioni tuxedo stepped out into the lobby, flanked by two younger executives holding leather briefing folios. It was Richard Hollis himself—the founder, chairman, and majority shareholder of the Hollis Financial Group.
Hollis glanced around the lobby, spotted me at table fourteen, and broke into a broad, genuine smile. He began walking straight toward our table.
Derek visibly recoiled, ducking his head down toward his lap as if he could somehow make his six-foot frame invisible. Arthur and Evelyn stiffened instantly, terror washing over their features.
“Maya, my dear!” Richard Hollis boomed warmly as he reached our table, extending a large, manicured hand. “I’ve been looking for you upstairs! The rooftop arrangement is nothing short of spectacular. That 1996 Bordeaux pairing with the braised short ribs was inspired. Our institutional investors are raving about the venue.”
I stood up with effortless grace, taking Mr. Hollis’s hand and giving it a firm, warm shake. “Thank you, Richard. It’s always an absolute pleasure hosting the Hollis Group. I trust the conservatory acoustics were suited for the keynote remarks?”
“Flawless,” Richard replied. Then his eyes drifted down to the other people seated at the table. He looked puzzled for a brief moment as his gaze landed on Derek.
“Lawson?” Richard said, his tone shifting from jovial host to stern CEO in a fraction of a second. “What are you doing down here in the public dining room? I thought I made it clear to your division director that you were to remain in the holding suite until our internal compliance officer arrived from the airport.”
Derek looked like he was about to vomit. “Mr. Hollis... sir... I was just... I was having a brief word with my family.”
Richard glanced between Derek, Arthur, Evelyn, and finally back to me. His sharp, calculating eyes immediately pieced together the scene.
“Your family?” Richard asked, turning to me. “Maya, are these people related to you?”
Arthur immediately stood up, puffing out his chest and extending his hand with practiced sycophancy. “Mr. Hollis! What an honor! I am Arthur Lawson, Derek’s father. I’ve followed your career in Atlanta for decades. We are so proud of Derek’s work at your firm, and we were just discussing how we can quickly clear up that small administrative balance before Monday—”
Richard Hollis didn’t take Arthur’s hand. He left the older man’s arm hanging awkwardly in the air.
“Mr. Lawson,” Richard said, his voice dropping into a razor-sharp corporate cadence. “Your son didn’t commit an administrative balance error. He forged client authorization signatures to liquidate four hundred thousand dollars in municipal bonds to cover his personal trading debts across three separate accounts.”
Evelyn let out a choked shriek.
Cassandra turned white as a sheet, staring at Derek in pure horror. “Four hundred thousand?! You told me it was sixty thousand!”
Derek squeezed his eyes shut, slumping completely into his chair.
Richard looked at me with deep, sincere respect. “Maya, when you and I negotiated the corporate hospitality contract for this quarter three months ago, you mentioned your strict personal standard of operational transparency. I had no idea this young man was your brother. But I assure you, Hollis Group will handle this matter with complete legal severity. We’ve already contacted the Chatham County District Attorney’s office.”
Arthur stared at Richard, then slowly turned his head toward me. The sheer realization that the very man he thought he could use to destroy my hotel was standing in my lobby, treating me as an esteemed peer while treating his prized son like a common criminal, broke something deep inside his psyche.
“Maya,” Arthur whispered, his voice trembling with a mixture of terror and unhinged fury. “Tell him. Tell him to stop this. Tell him to drop the charges. He’s your client—he’ll listen to you!”
May you like
I picked up the leather portfolio from the table, handed it back to Celia, and looked at my father with absolute clarity.
“You came here tonight to threaten my life’s work, Arthur,” I said softly. “You told me to remember which relationships matter. I suggest you remember that when you’re hiring Derek’s defense attorney.”
Related Stories
