Chapter 14 - BACK TO BEVERLY HILLSAaron did not ask Daniel for details.
That mattered.
Daniel was a valet, not an investigator.
“I appreciate you telling me,” Aaron said. “But don't risk your job or your cousin's job over this.”
Daniel nodded.
“I just hated seeing the kid think he'd destroyed some billionaire's irreplaceable car.”
Milo looked up.
“Dad said rich people can still rent things.”
Daniel smiled.
“Your dad is right.”
Milo stared at the restaurant entrance.
Then surprised Aaron.
“Can we go inside?”
“You sure?”
“Just for dessert.”
Aaron smiled.
“Dessert before lunch?”
“Recovery plan.”
“That sounds medically questionable.”
They went in.
Nobody stared.
Nobody whispered.
The manager greeted them and seated them without ceremony.
Milo ordered chocolate cake.
Halfway through, he spilled water.
His entire body stiffened.
Aaron did nothing.
Milo looked at the glass.
Then at his father.
A server arrived with a towel.
“That's okay, buddy.”
Milo whispered, “Sorry.”
“No problem.”
The server wiped it up and walked away.
Milo stared after him.
Aaron didn't explain.
He didn't need to.
A mistake.
A normal reaction.
No humiliation.
No punishment.
Just a towel.
On the way out, Milo looked visibly lighter.
That afternoon, Aaron called Dana.
“Check the supercar lease status.”
“We have the agreement.”
“Not just the agreement. Payment history.”
“Why?”
“Potential arrears.”
Dana paused.
“Source?”
“Informal. Don't rely on it. Verify independently.”
“Understood.”
Within two hours, Dana called back.
“Confirmed.”
Aaron leaned back.
“How much?”
“Two payments were late. One has now been cured.”
“Material?”
“Not alone.”
“Pattern?”
“Maybe.”
The company was carrying far more image-related costs than expected.
Luxury vehicles.
Event suites.
Memberships.
A private aircraft arrangement that was technically shared but billed heavily to Barron Mobility.
“Chase built a lifestyle into the operating model,” Dana said.
“A lifestyle isn't necessarily fraud.”
“No.”
“But investors need to know what happens when you remove it.”
“Exactly.”
They ordered a normalized expense analysis.
The result was startling.
Barron Mobility's underlying business was healthier than its cash position suggested.
Chase's spending had obscured the company's real performance.
That meant the company might be worth saving.
Possibly without Chase controlling every dollar.
Aaron found that conclusion strangely reassuring.
He did not want hundreds of employees losing jobs because their founder had behaved badly.
His anger was with Chase.
His obligation as an investor was to the larger reality.
The board saw it similarly.
Two days later, an emergency governance proposal circulated.
Independent CFO authority over discretionary spending.
Audit committee control.
Restrictions on founder expenses.
Mandatory conduct review.
Chase rejected every point.
“This is a coup,” he told Gavin.
His lawyer looked tired.
“It's oversight.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Chase paced.
“They're using Whitcomb's money to take my company.”
“Whitcomb hasn't invested.”
“He's engineering it.”
“He recused himself from the vote.”
Chase stopped.
“You believe that?”
“I verified it.”
“He's still influencing them.”
“He told them to evaluate the company without him.”
Chase's face tightened.
“Why are you defending him?”
“I'm trying to stop you from inventing an enemy so you don't have to look at the documents.”
Chase stared.
Gavin slid a report toward him.
“This company can survive.”
“With me.”
“Maybe.”
Chase's expression changed.
“Maybe?”
“The board is discussing temporary suspension pending completion of the review.”
Chase stood so quickly his chair hit the wall.
“They can't suspend the founder.”
“They can suspend the CEO.”
“I control the voting shares.”
“Not enough for unilateral operational authority under the covenants you signed.”
Chase's breathing changed.
He had signed those agreements during earlier funding rounds.
At the time, he assumed nobody would ever challenge him.
“What triggered this?”
Gavin looked directly at him.
“Not the slap.”
Chase laughed bitterly.
“Please.”
“The slap triggered attention.”
“Same thing.”
“No.”
Gavin tapped the report.
“These expenses triggered action.”
Then another page.
“These complaints.”
Another.
“These governance failures.”
Chase stared at the pile.
One broken window had led people to inspect everything around it.
That evening, he stood alone in his penthouse.
Below him, Los Angeles lights stretched for miles.
The supercar had been returned.
Fresh glass.
Perfect finish.
No visible evidence anything had happened.
Chase ran his hand along the roof.
Nine thousand dollars.
He remembered telling Aaron he could sell his entire house and still fail to pay.
It had been nonsense.
He knew it when he said it.
He said it because the look on Milo's face made him feel powerful.
That realization arrived without permission.
Chase stepped away from the car.
His phone buzzed.
Board secretary.
Emergency meeting tomorrow, 8:00 a.m. Mandatory attendance.
Attached was the agenda.
Item four:
Consideration of Interim Executive Authority.
May you like
For the first time, Chase understood that the window had already been repaired.
The damage that mattered had not.
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