Adam's Fall

by Liv Morris

  Eddie opens the door for Peters and me. With my head held high, I lead the way to the building’s entrance. As I cross the patterned sidewalk, I notice faint Xs stamped in every few segments in the concrete.

  “X marks the spot,” I mumble under my breath and laugh at the display of Thorpe’s obvious conceit.

  “What was that, sir?” Peters asks as we near the building’s glass doors. “Did you say something?”

  “Nothing to worry about.” I see my reflection in the glass doors, standing tall with my head held high, ready to face Thorpe.

  I enter through the revolving doors with Peters trailing behind. My steps are quick and precise with my heels clicking against the shiny granite floor.

  My first stop inside the lobby is the security desk. A couple of uniformed guards sit behind a tall counter. An electronic gate that requires a special access card blocks off the entrance beyond them.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen.” The two guards give me the onceover. “My name is Adam Kingsley. My associate, John Peters, and I have an appointment with Xavier Thorpe at two.”

  “You’re here to see Mr. Thorpe.” Repeating my request, the guards eye each other in a silent conversation before turning back to me. “We will have to call his office and confirm.”

  “Understood.” I lay my hand over my computer bag, hoping that its contents won’t be searched. What I have hidden inside will likely change the name at the top of this building.

  One of the guards dials a number and waits, still looking at me.

  “Mr. Adam Kingsley is here to see Mr. Thorpe,” says the gatekeeper. I swear he’s getting off on this little power trip of being the king’s guard. He waits and sits up straighter in his chair. He glances over me quickly and looks past me at Peters. I glance back at Peters. He’s standing with his hands in his pockets.

  “Thank you. I’ll send him up.” The guard hangs up his phone and turns his attention to me. “Mr. Thorpe’s assistant said to send you upstairs.”

  “Thank you,” I say with a hint of sarcasm. I’ve never had to go through such a hassle for a meeting before.

  “I’ll buzz you through the gate, and you can proceed to the bank of elevators on the right. Mr. Thorpe’s office is located on the twenty-seventh floor.” He hands me a keycard. “Insert this special card into the elevator’s panel before selecting the floor. It’s special access only.”

  I nod and walk through the gate with Peters as the guard buzzes us through. “Special access card. Smart. Something we should implement for my floor.” I dangle the card before Peters as we wait for the elevator’s doors to open.

  “I agree. It’s very much like the one you have at The Pierre. I’ll get on it… after my vacation.” The grin he flashes me reaches up to his eyes. “It’s hard to believe that after years of doing surveillance, that part of my job will be over after today.”

  “Believe me, Thorpe would blow his fortune to prove his innocence.” I can almost hear Thorpe’s denial and protests now. “So be ready for some serious backlash over the next few days.”

  “True,” Peters says, shaking his head and looking toward the floor. “He’s not one to go down without a fight.”

  “Exactly. Guns will be blazing. Count on it.” I reach for my phone and scan over my latest messages. Kathryn sent a text a few minutes ago.

  Remember you promised to be careful today. Call afterward. See you tonight.

  She and Ollie are on the same page with their messages to me. I have no reception in the elevator, so I can’t answer her text. I know she’s going to be livid when she finds out I kept the real reason for my visit a secret. However, I’m certain she’ll understand my motivation when reports come in outlining Thorpe’s wrongdoings. This time I have documented and tangible proof that he can’t refute. Unlike the assault Thorpe made on her where her words and accusations would have been pitted against his, I possess irrefutable facts.

  Thorpe’s attack on her and her family went unpunished, but today all his past sins will come back to bite him on the ass.

  I tuck my phone back in my suit pocket and stare ahead at the doors of the elevator. I push my shoulders back and smooth my hand down the front of my necktie. I need to exude confidence for the meeting; my armor needs to be crack-free.

  I’ve loathed Thorpe for years. He’s felt the same about me, even before I took my first breath. I’m just one big fucking mistake to him, a reminder that he doesn’t control everything in his well-crafted world.

  I owe my mother everything for keeping me away from this man, but I blame Thorpe for my mother’s constant state of melancholy. The results of today’s meeting will be in her memory.

  After she fled the city, pregnant and alone, she built her life around raising me. She never dated or had many friends. Men had flirted with her while I was growing up, but she wouldn’t engage with them past a quick hello. I wish she’d married and moved on with her life. She never told me why she kept everyone at a distance, but she didn’t’ let me feel like I was a mistake or a burden. She loved with me with her whole being. When I went off to college, she’d call me daily, just to hear my voice. I felt guilty leaving her behind, but my mother forbade me from staying in Philly for college. She insisted that I attend MIT.

  “Full scholarships don’t happen to everyone,” she’d said.

  The elevator slows and the doors open to the top floor. I catalog all the lives Thorpe’s fucked up—my mother, Ollie, Kathryn, Kathryn’s father, and me, not to mention all the people out of work because of his selfish decisions. As I step off the elevator, I carry each name with me like a badge of honor as I prepare to shred his empire to pieces.

  In silence, I turn to Peters and we pump our fists together. Our nerves are steeled and our plan flawless.

  The affluent décor on the top floor is not understated, and no expense seems to have been spared. The walls are painted a shimmering gray and the furniture is modern and sleek, more fitting a luxury penthouse apartment in Soho than a business office. Even a small copier would seem out of place and gauche.

  The space reeks of opulence and showmanship, a Manhattan setting fit for the city’s emperor. A lone desk is positioned ahead of us, and an attractive young woman watches as Peters and I approach. The massive wall art behind her is made of large, shiny scraps of metal manipulated and polished into the letter X. I roll my eyes seeing the piece’s grandeur and Thorpe’s homage to himself.

  “Adam Kingsley for Mr. Thorpe,” I announce to the woman sitting behind the desk.

  “Of course,” she says with a stiff smile. She glances at Peters but her eyes don’t rest on him for more than a second or two. “Please have a seat.” She tilts her head in the direction of a few chairs.

  “This is my associate, John Peters.” I extend my arm toward Peters.

  “Yes.” She pauses and then says, “I’ll announce you both.” I shake my head at her odd response. I turn to Peters who just shrugs.

  Minutes pass as we wait. The blonde never made a visible call to Thorpe alerting him of our presence. Perhaps she emailed him the message. Either way, we are left guessing and waiting.

  Unannounced, the door to the left of the massive X swings open and out slithers the human snake himself.

  “Gentlemen.” Thorpe’s voice booms through the space. He doesn’t move from the threshold of his office. “Please, come in.”

  He retreats back into his office, leaving us with no choice but to obey his command and follow him through the door.

  Clearing my throat, I stand and signal for Peters to join me. I’m one step ahead of him as we head toward Thorpe’s office. Once inside, I look around and realize the entire floor of this building is Thorpe’s office. The entire fucking floor of the building

  “Well, fuck me,” I mutter under my breath and scan the room from corner to corner. “I guess it’s good to be king.”

  Peters hears me and snorts.

  “Please, gentlemen, take a seat.” Thorpe takes his seat behind a dark wood desk
large enough to seat The Last Supper.

  Another man sits to the side of the massive desk. The serious-looking character must be Thorpe’s attorney. The legal pad and pen the man holds in his lap are a dead giveaway.

  I stride up to the desk and shake the hand of the man I hate. “Good afternoon, Thorpe.” Mister or sir cannot be forced from my lips. His last name will have to suffice. “This is John Peters. He’s worked for me nearly ten years now. Almost back to the day I arrived in New York City.”

  “Mr. Peters,” Thorpe says in a formal tone as he offers Peters a quick handshake.

  Thorpe turns to his man. “This is my attorney, Davis Young.”

  We all shake hands and take a seat. Surprisingly, the hatred I normally feel when I’m in Thorpe’s presence hasn’t reared its head. Maybe it’s the fact that I have a folder full of damning evidence sitting in my computer case like a ticking bomb.

  “I have a busy schedule today, so let’s get down to business about the New Jersey economic development.”

  I want to tell him about my scheduled evening plans with his other son, Ollie, but I refrain from getting too personal.

  “Yes, I’ve been doing a little research,” I say, reaching for my case and removing the papers secured in organized, bound folders. A congressional declaration couldn’t look more official.

  I hand the folder over to Thorpe and his attorney. Thorpe thumbs through the documents and tosses them on his desk. He snarls at me like a cornered dog.

  “So, this is a poker game and you’ve laid down your best hand. You’ve made a big mistake, Adam. One that will cost you everything you’ve worked for.” Thorpe pushes his chair away from the desk and stands. I jump back in my chair, startled. He walks around to me and sits on the corner of his desk. The position allows him to tower over me.

  “The facts are undeniable.” I nod at the discarded folder, and then I catch of glimpse of Thorpe’s attorney, whose mouth is set in a definite smirk. He almost appears ready to laugh. This entire interaction feels off, like there’s an inside joke that no one’s shared with me.

  But the facts of my case against Thorpe are clear. They’re carefully detailed and redlined, while pointing to all the damning evident I have against him.

  “Facts? Well I have some facts of my own.” He reaches back and grabs a thin folder. “Here are some facts. I’ll call them my ace in the hole.” He thrusts the folder at me. I glance at Peters and he nods. I take the folder and open it up.

  Pages of confidential information concerning Kings Capital’s security software glare up at me.

  Fuck! How the hell did Thorpe get his hands on these codes? These were the same ones Simon offered to sell to another company. In the wrong hands, they could be a deathblow to Kings.

  “Shocked, I see.” Thorpe chuckles. Speechless would be a better word, because my mouth won’t move. “It’s pretty simple. I have someone ready to put these documents into the wrong hands, so to speak. They’ll have the security codes for every bank and website in the world who relies on Kings Capital for their firewall. The customer accounts and credit card information will be accessed within seconds. Your company will be ruined in a blink of an eye.”

  “How?” Finally I mutter something. The papers I’m holding shake in my hands. “Where did you get these codes?”

  Thorpe glances at Peters with a sardonic smile. I turn toward my friend as a grin spreads across his face.

  “Peters? You?” My voice quivers as a fiery rage starts to build in my temples. I clench my jaw as I speak through my teeth. “How did you get a hold of them?”

  Peters looks at me with a mocking smirk. Dots get connected as my mind spins in fury. Simon had the codes and wanted to expose Kings.

  “Don’t blame Peters. He was only doing as he was told.”

  I hear Thorpe but continue to stare, seething, at Peters. I remember back to the moment I met Peters in a dark Brooklyn bar. He said he lived close by and stopped in for drinks about every night. He told me about how he was struggling financially, trying to make ends meet to support his wife. He was a private investigator and business was slow. At the time, I didn’t have anything to offer him other than a friendly ear and a small job working for me. He proved to be an asset as time wore on. I trusted him. And not just me but Tom, Patrick, and even Simon.

  “Nine years we’ve been working together. Was it all a lie? I thought you were my friend.” I shake the damning folder in Peters’ face. It takes all my strength not to slap him across the face with it. “You got these codes from Simon, didn’t you?”

  Peters scoffs at my pain-filled questions. His unaffected appearance supports his betrayal. “I did, on a silver-platter. And ‘friends’? You’re fucking kidding me, right? You’ve treated me like shit for years. Or maybe that’s just how you treat all your friends. Look what happened to Simon.”

  Peters’ words and cold demeanor cut into me. “The thing with Simon was different. What did I ever do to you? I paid you enough to live like a king.”

  “Thorpe paid me more.” Peters says. “Money; it’s the root of all evil, as the saying goes. I’m a selfish motherfucker, something you and I have had in common.”

  Anger rages through my veins, and I want to punch this bastard’s head in.

  “Besides, Adam,” Thorpe says, and I turn to shoot daggers at him. “Do you think I didn’t have an eye on everything you’ve done in your life?” Thorpe says. “Your mother didn’t listen to me when I demanded she get an abortion. I even offered her money to pay for it. But she didn’t take it. I hoped my stain would go away with you living in Philadelphia, but here you are, trying to bring me down. You’re pathetic, and I’m glad no one knows you’re my son.”

  “I don’t want anyone to know you’re my father either, you son of a bitch. You treated my mother like she was gum on the bottom of your shoe. You’re the one who’s pathetic.” I spit out my words in anger, trying to defend my mother.

  “I have watched your every move, your mother’s, too. I never thought my mistake would rise in the business world alongside me. When Kings started out, I had to put Peters in to keep my interests protected.”

  He flicks his finger at the documents, the codes, I hold in my hands.

  “This is my protection.”

  I can’t process it all. Thorpe has been watching every move I’ve made all this time? I’m the biggest fucking fool. I hang my head as I try to gather myself; my entire world spins out of control.

  “Peters, you can leave us now.” Thorpe dismisses Peters with a wave of his hand, but I have something to say before he even thinks of leaving.

  I throw down the papers on the desk and stand up. I rush to Peters and pull him to his feet by his lapels. In the background, Thorpe asks his attorney to call security, so I release Peters with a push and watch him land back in his chair. His red tie flies up and hits his chin. My anger hasn’t subsided as I hold my fist close to his face. Kathryn’s warning to be careful flashes through my mind, and it’s enough to keep me from punching him.

  “All about money, was it? The evidence you gave me about this Jersey deal is probably lies, too, right?” I point a shaking finger in Peters’ face. The man’s performance in my life is nothing short of Oscar-worthy. In the decade I’ve known him, I’d never have taken him for a liar.

  “Yes, all those documents were fabricated,” Peters says with no emotion. A wave of nausea races through me. Peters’ betrayal is worse than what Thorpe can ever do to me.

  “I trusted you. Gave you complete access—” Those last words are a noose hanging around my neck. Peters had special clearance to practically everything at Kings. I want to pull my hair out for being so naïve. “What else have you used against me, you liar?”

  “I might have encouraged Marta in her obsession with you. I saw the opportunity arise when she started dating Simon and couldn’t resist. You didn’t even remember who she was. And by the way, she loves the penthouse you gave me,” he says with a knowing smile.

  �
�Why would you do this to me?” Peters’ actions with Marta go way beyond spying for Thorpe. They’re personal and vindictive.

  “I was bored and tired of being treated like shit. It was a nice little diversion to keep me occupied.” He tosses his head up with a chuckle.

  “Because you were bored? You sadistic bastard!” I scream at a smiling Peters.

  “Sit down, Adam.” Thorpe’s demand is like a slap in the face. How dare he think he can control me? I turn on my heel to face him and feel every muscle in my body strain as I lean forward. Through it all, the bastard is still sitting calmly on the edge of his desk. “We have matters to discuss.” He points to the folder that dropped out of my hand as I went after Peters.

  “Are you kidding? I’m not sitting down.” I snap back. Peters rises from the chair and walks toward the office door. “Run, you fucking traitor!” I yell after him as he slams the door. I’ll deal with him later.

  “Here’s my bargain for you,” Thorpe says, and I jerk my head around to look at him. “You and I both know I can release these codes before you can give the word to change them. You don’t really have much of a choice. Resign as CEO of Kings Capital and your precious company will be safe. Or watch everything you’ve worked for implode. .” An evil smirk slides over his face as he taps a single piece of paper on his desk.

  I know what it is before I even look over its contents. My letter of resignation as CEO. My loss and his win.

  “So what will it be?” Thorpe thrust a pen in my direction. “Release this signed letter to the press or I release the security codes?”

  As I reach to grab the pen from Thorpe’s slimy hand, I hear Simon’s maniacal laugh echoing in my brain.

  Chapter 19

  What have I done?

  I collapse against the wall of the elevator as it descends. My breaths fogs up the shiny metal where my face touches it. My entire career lies in ruin. Bending at the waist, I ride another wave of nausea as the reality of what just happened sets in.