Chapter 8 - The Falling Empire
While Thorne & Weston flourished, Weston Property Group began to rot from the inside out.
Garrett Weston’s empire had been built on leverage, debt, and intimidation. For twenty years, he had relied on his personal political connections to force commercial variances through city council.
But with Dr. Harrison and the preservation board scrutinizing his every move, his major commercial projects sputtered.
In the autumn of 2025, a massive commercial real estate correction hit the Mountain West region.
My father had overextended sixty million dollars in short-term loans to construct a glass high-rise tower in downtown Denver—a project that was now forty percent vacant and eighteen months behind schedule.
His foreign investors pulled their capital.
His primary lender, First Interstate Bank, called in thirty million dollars in outstanding debt.
In November 2025—exactly two years after my father had ordered his driver to pick up a homeless man on 16th Street—Weston Property Group declared preliminary bankruptcy.
My sisters’ luxury condos were repossessed by the bank.
The leased Mercedes cars were returned.
Natalie and Emily, who had never worked a real day in their lives, were forced to move back into the Denver mansion—a mansion that was now listed on the public auction block by the federal bankruptcy court.
I read the news in the Denver Business Journal while sitting on the porch of our rowhouse, drinking coffee with Samuel.
“Are you sad, Hannah?” Samuel asked gently, setting his hand over mine.
May you like
I looked down at the wooden cedar ring on my finger. Over two years, the wood had absorbed the oils of my skin, darkening into a rich, deep mahogany polish that glinted in the morning sun.
“I’m not sad, Samuel,” I said quietly. “I’m just sorry he had to lose everything to realize that marble doesn't make a home.”
