The utter contempt in his voice hit me like a physical blow. The ghost of my father’s humiliation flared in my chest.
"I'm not looking for a shelter," I said, keeping my voice perfectly even. "I was asking about the price of the vehicle. Is it against company policy to browse?"
Elias actually let out a short, harsh laugh. He took a step closer, invading my personal space. The scent of heavy, expensive cologne washed over me.
"Browse?" he mocked, raising an eyebrow. "Old man, you can look through the window from the sidewalk. There is absolutely nothing in this building that is suitable for your budget. You couldn't afford the floor mats in that Phantom. Now, I am dealing with actual, wealthy clients today, and you are loitering."
"I have money," I replied simply. "And I have a right to look at what you're selling."
"You're making a scene," Elias hissed, his mask of corporate professionalism completely slipping away to reveal the vicious bully beneath. He snapped his fingers in the air toward the front desk. "Janet! Call Brock and Miller. We have a vagrant harassing the inventory."
He turned back to me, leaning in close so only I could hear. "I'm going to give you exactly ten seconds to turn around and waddle your pathetic self out of my showroom, or my security team is going to bounce your head off the pavement. Do we understand each other?"
I didn't move a single inch.
As Elias glared at me, his radio earpiece buzzed. He tapped it, his expression shifting rapidly from anger to extreme, focused anxiety. "What? They’re ready to sign? Make sure they use the red contracts, not the standard Vance financing. I’m coming right now."
He turned quickly, clutching the thick red folder tightly against his chest as if his life depended on it. As he hurried away toward one of the private glass-walled finance offices, he didn't realize the folder had slipped slightly. A single piece of paper fluttered out and dropped onto the polished marble floor.
Elias didn't notice. He was already storming into the glass office, shutting the door behind him where a young, deeply anxious-looking couple was sitting at a desk.
I walked over and picked up the heavy stock paper he had dropped.
It was a financing contract. But the moment my eyes scanned the top header, the blood in my veins turned to ice.
Vance Automotive has a strict corporate policy: all in-house financing is processed through Vance Financial Services, with interest rates permanently capped to protect our consumers and our brand reputation.
But the logo at the top of this contract didn't say Vance Automotive.
It read: Apex Capital Lending LLC.
And clearly printed on the second line was an astronomical, completely predatory interest rate of twenty-nine percent, loaded with hidden default penalties that would financially destroy whoever signed it. It was completely illegal under my company's charter.
Before I could even process the magnitude of the betrayal staring up at me, heavy footsteps rushed up behind me.
"Alright, buddy, party's over," a deep voice growled.
Two massive security guards in tight black uniforms suddenly grabbed both of my arms. Their grips were brutal, digging painfully into the muscles of my shoulders as they physically yanked me backward away from the vehicles.
"Hey! Let go of me," I demanded, but my voice was completely drowned out.
"Manager wants you gone," the taller guard snarled, beginning to drag my feet across the polished floor toward the heavy glass exit doors.
I looked wildly toward the glass office. Elias was standing over the young couple, forcefully pointing at a signature line on the desk, bullying them into signing their lives away on a fraudulent contract. He looked through the glass, made direct eye contact with me as I was being dragged away, and offered me a sickening, triumphant wink.
"Take your hands off me right now," I warned, planting my work boots firmly into the marble floor to arrest their momentum.
At sixty-two, I wasn't as fast as I used to be, but decades of hauling engine blocks and swinging heavy wrenches had left me with a core of solid, immovable strength. The taller guard, Brock, grunted in surprise as I suddenly dropped my center of gravity, completely stopping our progress toward the door.