The Consortium Behind Your Collapse

The Penthouse Eviction

The Meridian Towers stood like a glass cathedral against the morning sky, thirty-seven floors of steel and tinted windows that caught the sunlight and threw it back in waves of gold. Julian had walked past this building a thousand times in three years.

Today, he walked through the front entrance like a stranger.

He made it exactly seven steps inside before a security guard stood in front of him. The man was new, someone Julian had never seen before. 

"Stop right there." The guard's hand went up, palm out, like Julian was a dog that needed training. His name tag read Daniel in letters that gleamed under the lobby lights.

Julian stopped. "I'm here to collect my belongings from the penthouse."

"The penthouse." Daniel said, looking at him from head to toe. "You're Julian Blackwood."

It wasn't a question, but Julian nodded anyway.

“We've been instructed not to let criminals in here."

The word landed in the lobby like a stone dropped into water. Conversations at the reception desk stopped mid-sentence. A woman in a business suit paused with her coffee cup halfway to her lips. Two men by the elevator bank turned to stare, their eyes moving from Daniel to Julian and back again.

"I have every right to enter this building." Julian kept his voice low. "My belongings are in the penthouse. Eleanor's lawyer confirmed I have twenty-four hours to retrieve them."

"Maybe you do." Daniel crossed his arms over his chest. "But you're not using the main elevator. Criminals use the service entrance. That's policy now."

"That's not policy. That's—"

"Are you arguing with me?" Daniel stepped closer, close enough that Julian could smell his cologne. "Because I can make this really difficult for you, buddy. I've seen the video. We all have. You think anyone here wants a thief riding in the same elevator as them?"

A woman in yoga pants whispered something to her friend, and they both laughed. 

"Service elevator is around back." Daniel jerked his thumb toward the lobby's side exit. "That's where trash goes. And based on what I've seen, that's what you are."

Julian looked at him for a long moment. Daniel stared back, his jaw set. Julian turned and walked toward the side exit.

Behind him, someone clapped. Then someone else. By the time Julian pushed through the door, the sound had grown into scattered applause.

Julian stepped through the doorway and stopped.

His home had been transformed into a crime scene directed by people who thought they were the victims. Garbage bags sat in clusters across the living room floor, black plastic bulging with what used to be his life. His clothes, his books, his sketches, everything he owned shoved into trash bags like evidence being collected. The coffee table had been pushed against the wall to make room, and someone had knocked over the lamp his mother had given him for his twenty-fifth birthday. The shade was cracked, the bulb shattered, shards of glass glittering on the hardwood floor like small, cruel stars.

Diane Adam stood in the center of the chaos like a general surveying a conquered battlefield. 

Victoria lounged on the sofa, her phone held up in front of her face, recording. She saw Julian and smiled, the expression bright and vicious. "And here he is, everyone. The fraud architect, coming to steal more things that don't belong to him"

Julian's throat tightened. "What are you doing?"

"Supervising." Diane's voice was crisp, and efficient. "Since you can't be trusted not to take things that belong to this family, we thought it best to ensure you only leave with what's actually yours." She looked him up and down, her lip curling. "Which, let's be honest, probably isn't much. Most of this is stolen anyway."

"I didn't steal anything." The words came out harder than Julian intended, sharp enough to make Victoria's smile widen.

"That's what criminals always say." Diane walked to one of the garbage bags and kicked it with the toe of her designer shoe. "I've packed most of your things myself. You should thank me. I probably touched items purchased with stolen money. God knows what kind of criminal energy is embedded in these objects."

Victoria giggled, the sound echoing off the high ceilings. "Mom, you're hilarious."

Julian moved past them, heading toward the bedroom

"Where do you think you're going?" Diane's voice cracked across the room like a whip.

"The bedroom. I have personal items—"

"We've already packed everything in there." Victoria jumped up from the sofa, still recording, moving to block his path. "Unless you're planning to steal the furniture too? Should we check your pockets?"

Julian tried to step around her, but she moved with him, keeping herself between him and the hallway. 

"Victoria, move."

"Or what?" She tilted her head, her ponytail swinging. "You'll hit me? That would be perfect content. 'Fraud Architect Assaults Woman.' I'd go triple viral."

Behind her, Diane laughed. "Let him through, dear. If he wants to embarrass himself further, who are we to stop him?"

Victoria stepped aside with an exaggerated bow, still filming.

The bedroom looked like it had been ransacked. Drawers hung open, their contents dumped on the floor. The closet doors stood wide, hangers scattered across the carpet. His architecture degree certificate lay torn in half on the dresser. Someone had ripped it deliberately, cleanly, right through the university seal.

Glass crunched under his shoes as he walked to the bed. Their faces stared up at him from the wreckage, his mother's smile broken into fragments, his father's eyes separated from the rest of his face.

"Oops." Victoria appeared in the doorway, still recording. "Those must have fallen. Such a shame."

Julian's hands curled into fists.  He knelt down and started gathering the photo pieces, his fingers shaking.

"Oh, that's pathetic." Victoria zoomed in with her phone. "Look at him, everyone. The big bad criminal, crying over some pictures."

"Before you leave," Diane said from the doorway, her voice cold. "I'll need the wedding ring. You don't deserve to keep anything from this family."

Julian looked up at her. She stood backlit by the hallway light, her shadow stretching across the bedroom floor.

"The ring was mine before I married Eleanor." His voice came out rough. "It belonged to my father."

"Everything you owned before marrying Eleanor was purchased with questionable funds." Diane held out her hand. "The ring. Now."

Julian stood slowly. The photo fragments slipped from his hands, scattering across the carpet. 

"No."

Diane's face hardened. "That wasn't a request."

"And that wasn't a negotiation." Julian pushed past her, moving back toward the living room. He needed to find his grandfather's watch.

He found the watch in a jewelry box on the mantle, right where he'd left it three days ago. Julian reached for it.

Victoria's hand shot out and snatched the case first.

"What's this?" She held it up to the light, examining it. "This is way too expensive for you to own legitimately."

"Give it back." Julian requested. "Right now."

"Or what?" Victoria backed away, cradling the watch case against her chest. "You bought this with stolen money, didn't you?”.

"That watch belonged to my grandfather."

"Sure it did." Victoria opened the case, pulling out the watch.”I bet you told yourself that when you bought it. 'My grandfather would have wanted me to have this.' Classic thief logic."

Diane pulled out her phone. "I'm calling building security. If he's trying to steal valuables from the penthouse—"

"That's MY watch!"

"You don't have anything anymore, Julian." Diane's finger hovered over her phone screen. "You signed the papers. Everything here belongs to Eleanor, and she's being gracious enough to let you take your clothes and your worthless junk. But this?" She gestured at the watch. "This stays."

Julian's vision tunneled. He took a step toward Victoria, then another.

"Security," Diane said into her phone, her voice sharp. "Penthouse. Immediately. The intruder is trying to steal from us."

The penthouse doors burst open thirty seconds later.

Daniel came through first, flanked by two other guards Julian didn't recognize. 

"He's trying to take this watch." Victoria held up the Patek Philippe. We caught him red-handed."

Daniel grabbed Julian's arm, his grip brutal. "I had a feeling you'd cause problems."

"Get your hands off me." Julian tried to pull away, but the second guard was already there, grabbing his other arm, twisting it behind his back. 

They shoved him against the wall. His cheek pressed against the paint, and he could taste blood where he'd bitten his tongue.

"Search him," Diane commanded. "Check his pockets, check everything. If he's taken anything else—"

Hands patted him down roughly. They emptied his pockets, pulling out his wallet, his keys,and his phone. Everything clattered on the coffee table while Victoria recorded it all.

"This is incredible, everyone. Real-time criminal apprehension. Make sure you're sharing this”.

Daniel yanked Julian away from the wall, spinning him around. "You've got five seconds to tell me what else you've stolen"

Julian met his eyes and smiled.

It wasn't the reaction Daniel expected. His grip loosened slightly, confusion breaking through his authority.

"I need to make a phone call," Julian said calmly.

"You need to shut up," Daniel shot back.

"One phone call." Julian's voice didn't rise. He looked past Daniel to where Victoria still held his grandfather's watch. "Then you'll all understand what you've just done."

"What have we done?" Diane laughed, the sound mixed with disbelief. "We caught a thief. That's what we've done."

Julian reached for his phone on the coffee table. Daniel moved to stop him, but something about Julian's expression made him hesitate.

Julian dialed a number from memory. Two rings, then an elderly British voice answered. 

"Mr. Harrisworth," Julian said quietly, "I need authentication assistance at The Meridian Towers. Penthouse level. It's urgent."

He ended the call before anyone could respond.

"Who was that?" Daniel demanded.

"You'll see."

Ten minutes felt like ten hours. The guards kept Julian against the wall while Diane and Victoria whispered in the corner, their phones out, probably texting Eleanor or Raymond. Then the private elevator chimed.

The doors opened, and an elderly man stepped into the penthouse, carrying a leather briefcase.

"Mr. Blackwood." Charles Harrisworth said.”I came as quickly as I could."

Daniel's grip on Julian's arm loosened. "Who the hell are you?"

"Charles Harrisworth." The old man didn't look at Daniel before responding. "Senior appraiser for Sotheby's International. I believe you've found something that requires authentication?"

Julian nodded toward Victoria. "She has my grandfather's watch."

Harrisworth turned to Victoria, one eyebrow raised. "May I?"

Victoria clutched the watch case tighter. "This is evidence. We're not giving it to some random—"

"I'm hardly random, young lady." Harrisworth said coldly ."I've authenticated pieces for the British Museum, the Louvre, and three sitting monarchs. If you'd prefer to continue this conversation with the police present, I can certainly arrange that. Though I should warn you, making false claims about stolen property carries  severe penalties."

Victoria's face went pale. She looked at Diane, who nodded sharply, and Victoria handed over the watch case like it might explode.

Harrisworth carried it to the windows. He pulled a jeweler's loupe from his pocket and examined the watch. His fingers moved delicately, checking the case back, the movement, the crown, and the strap.

Minutes stretched. The crowd at the door grew silent. Even Victoria's phone had lowered, no longer recording.

Finally, Harrisworth straightened. He removed his loupe and turned to face the room.

"This," he said quietly, "is the Blackwood family piece. A 1956 Patek Philippe Calatrava, reference 2526. It belonged to James Blackwood himself, authenticated in our records when he purchased it in Geneva sixty-eight years ago." He paused, letting that sink in. ". "It's worth approximately two point three million dollars."

The silence that followed was intense. 

"Furthermore," Harrisworth continued, replacing the watch in its case carefully. "This piece can only be in the possession of the Blackwood family heir. It was never sold, never gifted outside the bloodline. Which means..." He looked at Julian."Only Julian Blackwood, James Blackwood's grandson, would have a legitimate claim to this watch."

Diane's face had gone pale while Victoria stood frozen, her mouth slightly open, forgetting her phone in her hand. Daniel had released Julian's arm entirely, backing away like Julian might suddenly catch fire.

"You mean..." Victoria's voice cracked. "He's actually..."

"Mr. Blackwood." Harrisworth walked to Julian and handed him the watch case with a small bow. "Your grandfather was a good man. I had the honor of appraising several pieces for him over the years. He would be proud of how you've conducted yourself today."

Julian took the case, his fingers shaking slightly as they closed around it. "Thank you for coming, Mr. Harrisworth."

"Not at all." Harrisworth glanced at Diane, Victoria, and the security guards who'd manhandled Julian against the wall. "I trust there won't be any further confusion about Mr. Blackwood's property?"

No one answered. Julian's phone rang.

He pulled it from his pocket. The screen showed an incoming call from an unknown number. He answered it on speaker.

"Is this Julian Blackwood?" A woman's voice.

"Speaking."

"This is Patricia, the building manager of The Meridian Towers. I just received a call from our legal department. There's been a terrible misunderstanding, and I need to speak with you immediately. It's regarding..." She paused, and Julian could hear papers rustling. "It's regarding your ownership of this property."

The room went so quiet Julian could hear his own heartbeat.

"My ownership?" Julian kept his voice neutral.

"Yes, sir. Our records show that The Meridian Towers is owned by Meridian Property Group, which is a subsidiary of... of Blackwood Consortium. And our legal team has confirmed that you are, in fact..." Another pause, longer this time. "You're the primary beneficiary and controlling partner of the Blackwood Consortium."

Daniel made a sound like he'd been punched.

"Which means," Patricia continued, her voice climbing higher with each word, "you are technically my employer. And I have just been informed that several members of my security staff assaulted you. Mr. Blackwood, I am so incredibly sorry. This should never have happened. I'm on my way up right now to personally—"

"I'll be in the lobby in ten minutes," Julian said calmly. "We can discuss this then."

He ended the call.

Daniel dropped to his knees instantly, his kneecaps hitting the hardwood floor with a crack that made everyone wince.

"Mr. Blackwood, I didn't know, I swear I didn't know, please, I was just following orders, I was told you were a criminal, I was trying to protect the residents—"

"You were trying to humiliate me," Julian corrected quietly.

He turned to Patricia, who'd just rushed through the penthouse doors, her face sheet-white, sweat beading on her forehead despite the air conditioning.

"Mr. Blackwood." She was breathing hard like she'd run the entire way from her office. "I cannot apologize enough. The security staff had no idea who you were. We received instructions from Mrs. Adam that you were a potential threat, and we acted on that information without proper verification. This is entirely my fault. Please, if there's any way to—"

"You're both fired," Julian said. "Effective immediately!"

Patricia's legs seemed to stop working. She grabbed the doorframe for support. "Please, Mr. Blackwood, I have a family, I've worked here for twelve years, this was an honest mistake—"

"Security footage of your staff assaulting me will be forwarded to the appropriate authorities," Julian continued. "Whether they choose to press charges is up to them. But you're done here."

He walked past Patricia and Daniel. He stopped at the penthouse doors and looked back.

Diane stood frozen in the center of the living room and Victoria had stopped recording, her phone hanging limp in her hand. They both stared at him in shock and surprise.

"Eleanor has forty-eight hours to vacate this penthouse," Julian said. "Every day after that, I'll charge market rent. Forty-five thousand dollars per day."

"You can't—" Diane started.

"I own the building," Julian interrupted. "I can do whatever I want."

He walked to the service elevator and pressed the button. As the doors closed, he caught a glimpse of the penthouse one last time. Victoria was frantically typing on her phone. The neighbors were dispersing, conversations hushed and urgent while Daniel remained on his knees, his face buried in his hands.

The elevator descended in silence.

In his pocket, Julian's grandfather's watch ticked steadily, counting down the seconds until Adams understood exactly who they'd gone to war with.

Forty-seven days remaining.