Cassoway Holdings, Ltd

"Really? Do you really think so? I'm afraid you are mistaken. If you refer to your contract you'll find you did indeed sign over everything to Cassoway Holdings Limited." I said calmly.

"But that's insane! I didn't even make any money - you took every last cent of that and now you want my house too! Who the hell do you think you are?"

"I'm now the legal owner of your estate, Mr Smith. That's not who I think I am, that's legal fact. You signed the contract, it was witnessed. We lent you the start-up fees for a reasonable percentage and you failed defaulting on your loans and we took what was rightfully ours. There really isn't anymore to explain."

Mr. Smith clenched his fists. He was an amusing buffoon, an ape on the other side of my desk. Some people never learn, the world isn't built on handouts and generosity, it's built on money. We have money at Cassoway Holdings and so people come to us. Then we own them. We have enough money and enough lawyers at our disposal to make sure any fuss, any dispute goes away for a very long time. Money is the real law, the most expensive lawyers win and we have very expensive ones indeed, certainly more than our clients. They come like lambs to the slaughter and just before the end I get this little show in front of my desk. It's nearly always the same, tears, red-faced anger. It's so awfully quaint.

Sometimes though taking their money isn't enough. You have to destroy them, utterly, to send out a message. Mr Smith had annoyed me, I found his bulldog face repugnant and his presence offended me.

"I hear bankruptcy can do untold harm to a family. Living on the streets, you wife and daughter reduced to filthy, common whores, sucking old men off in back-alleys so they can get their next meal. I wouldn't worry about money Mr. Smith, I'm sure your daughter will make it back in no time at all. Just imagine it, your little girl squirming under filthy reprobates for cash because Daddy lost all her money. Such a shame."

The ape exploded from behind the desk, but not before I could press the security button. He dived over it, trying his best to pummel me to death. I survived easy enough, a broken nose for my troubles but the satisfaction of what came after more than made up for the discomfort.

I heard he killed himself in prison. I suppose he couldn't take a life sentence for attempted murder. Yes, the cameras, the testimony of the staff and security people condemned him. Clear motive, solid, cohesive testimony. The heart of a business is loyal staff.

Maybe he didn't enjoy being raped by his cell mates. Maybe it was something I'd said, I'd had someone deliver a message, asking him if he enjoyed taking it as much as his daughter did on the streets.

I saw her once, diseased, broken and alone. I picked her up, offered her some help. As long as she signed a contract and I'd have her out of her hole and into a better life, as long as she kept up the minimal, extremely reasonable repayments.

Like father like daughter I suppose. The little people never learn.

The End

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