Chapter 13 - Reclaiming the Fortieth Floor
The sun rose over Manhattan in a brilliant streak of amber and steel-gray clouds.
At seven-thirty in the morning, a black car dropped Mason, Victoria, and me at the entrance of Remington Ridge Capital.
Rain from the previous day had washed the streets clean, leaving the glass tower gleaming in the morning light.
I wore my tailored charcoal suit, carrying my old leather briefcase and the heavy red binder of verified balance sheets.
As we stepped through the revolving glass doors, the lobby security guards snapped to attention.
Sam, the guard who had been forced to escort me out with my cardboard box just twenty-four hours earlier, was standing behind the marble desk.
When Sam saw me walking alongside Mason Caldwell and a team of federal monitors, his eyes widened in utter astonishment.
"Ms. Lively?" Sam gasped, his hand dropping away from his radio.
"Good morning, Sam," I said, offering him a warm, reassuring smile.
"I believe you have a visitor badge for me?"
Victoria stepped forward, displaying the signed federal court order and the board resolution bearing Arthur Remington's signature.
"Sam, as of seven o'clock this morning, Harper Lively is the Chief Executive Officer of Remington Ridge Capital," Mason informed him.
Sam looked down at the court order, then back up at me, a massive grin spreading across his tired face.
"It is an honor to welcome you back, Ms. Lively," Sam said, immediately pressing the master security bypass to open the private executive elevators.
"Take your rightful place on forty, ma'am."
"Thank you, Sam," I said, stepping into the mirrored elevator that had carried me out in disgrace yesterday.
The ride up to the fortieth floor took thirty seconds, the smooth hum of the cables feeling like an ascent into an entirely new chapter of my life.
When the elevator doors parted, the floor was already alive with anxious whispers and muffled panic.
News of Alden's arrest had leaked into the financial news wires thirty minutes before the opening bell.
Junior analysts stood clustered near the water dispensers, their faces pale, clutch-holding tablets displaying breaking news headlines.
Chloe, Alden's executive assistant, was weeping softly at her desk, frantically trying to route endless incoming calls from panicked institutional investors.
The moment I stepped out of the elevator vestibule, the entire floor went completely silent.
Phones kept ringing, but nobody moved to answer them.
Every eye turned toward me, watching the woman who had been thrown out like garbage returning with the firm's biggest investor at her side.
I walked straight toward the center of the trading floor, stopping beside the main bullpen where twenty analysts sat frozen.
"Good morning, everyone," I projected my voice clearly across the cavernous room.
"I know you have seen the news, and I know you are terrified about the future of this firm."
"Alden Remington has been removed from all executive duties and is currently in federal custody for unauthorized transactions."
A collective gasp rippled through the rows of desks, followed by stunned silence.
"Remington Ridge Capital will not be liquidated, and no innocent employee will lose their job today," I announced firmly.
"Mason Caldwell has reaffirmed his commitment to our primary funds, and we are operating under an emergency stabilization plan."
"Our immediate priority is closing out the fraudulent options contracts before the New York Stock Exchange opens in fifty minutes."
I turned toward Chloe, who was staring at me with wide, terrified eyes, afraid I would fire her on the spot for her past allegiance to Alden.
"Chloe, take a deep breath," I said gently, walking over to her desk.
"You are not responsible for Alden's crimes."
"I need you to patch all incoming institutional client calls directly to conference room A."
"Tell them Harper Lively is hosting an emergency briefing at eight-fifteen sharp to explain our asset-backed liquidity structure."
Chloe blinked through her tears, nodding vigorously as she grabbed her headset with renewed purpose.
"Yes, Ms. Lively! Right away!"
Then I turned toward the corner suite—the massive office with wraparound views of Central Park that Alden had occupied.
The brass nameplate on the door still read 'Alden Remington, Executive Vice President.'
Mason gestured toward the brass letters with a faint grin.
"Allow me, Harper," Mason said, pulling a pocketknife from his suit jacket and prying the brass plate clean off the polished wood.
May you like
He handed the metal plate to me, and I dropped it into the nearest wastebasket with a sharp, satisfying clatter.
"Let's get to work," I said, stepping into the corner office to save the company.
