Philanthropy Part Two: Building the Case

By Lana Ocean

Philanthropy: /fəˈlanTHrəpē/ noun: the desire to promote the welfare of others, expressed especially by the generous donation of money to good causes. Example "He acquired a considerable fortune and was noted for his philanthropy"

Peter Chase is a self-made billionaire, and a selfish prick most of the time. Then he mouths off to the wrong people and gets pulled into legal jeopardy. Just how far can he push buttons until he suffers the consequences?

This is the second part of the five-part five star highly rated erotic Philanthropy series.

These Explicit Stories Are For Adults (18+) Only.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lana Ocean
• Release date: Aug 30, 2021
• ISBN: 9781777618131

Lana Ocean

LANA OCEAN is an award-winning author of fiction in another genre. Erotic fiction started as a lark, and then suddenly she had written thousands and thousands of words.She has compiled many erotic stories over the years and published them using Literotica.com under the name Estcher. She is using a pseudonym because she wants to protect her true identity. Erotic fiction is not something you can brag about at cocktail parties.Lana proudly lives in Canada.Connect with Lana Ocean:EMAIL: [e-mail]

Book preview

Philanthropy

Part Two: Building the Case

Titles by Lana Ocean

Collected Works

Volume One

Volume Two

Spell Casters Series

The Coming of the Spell Caster

The Schooling of the Spell Caster (coming 2021)

The Rise of the Spell Caster (coming 2021)

Philanthropy

Part One: The Carvers

Part Two: Building the Case

Part Three: Reaction and Action

Part Four: The Offensive

Part Five: End Game

LANA OCEAN

Philanthropy

Part Two: Building the Case

Philanthropy Part Two: Building the Case

by lana ocean

Copyright © 2021

First Edition 2021 (Smashwords)

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved worldwide. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or in any means—by electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise—without prior written permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights. Purchase only authorised editions.

All inquiries should be addressed to:

E-Mail: [e-mail]

National Library of Canada Cataloguing in Publication Data

ISBN-13: 978-1-7776181-3-1

Philanthropy

Part Two: Building the Case

Philanthropy

Part Two: Building the Case

I parked in a handicap spot and exited my Hyundai Elantra. Two chirps later, I pocketed my keys and walked up to the condo entrance. Inside, I buzzed condo 1213 and an elderly female voice I recognised as that of Alice Cartwell spoke loudly out of the speaker in the entrance.

Yes?

Hi, Alice Cartwell? This is Peter Chase. We spoke on the phone?

Ah, yes. The poor man who was beat up in the park. I wasn’t expecting you this soon.

Yes, well. I had some free time, and I was in the neighbourhood.

In the neighbourhood? Young man, I live outside the city.

I grinned. True. Okay, I lied. I couldn’t wait to speak to you. Is now a good time?

She didn’t release the intercom button, and I heard her exasperated sigh. May as well. Come on up. Condo 1213…

In a moment, the door buzzed angrily, and I pulled it open and walked toward the elevators. I looked around the condo entrance and saw the terrible state of maintenance. It looked run down like a cheap public housing complex. Garbage was piled up in a corner and the one waste basket was overflowing with fast food wrappers and what looked like Diaper Genie bags. The entrance stunk to high heaven, and I found myself holding my breath as I pressed the up button.

This place was a shithole, and it stunned me. The condo building had been one of the best in the city some years back. This was before the Carvers had lived here. When my former lawyer Amber had told me the Carvers had sued the shit out of this place, I could see they had salted the earth, too. I was angry seeing the disrepair. This was an area outside the city that boasted the highest realty costs in the city and surrounding area. From outside, the building had looked spectacular—not as nice as mine, but pretty close. Inside, it was… I shuddered.

The elevator dinged, and the doors pulled open, making a dry rasping sound. I was standing right at the door split and surprised a young man holding a small furry animal that looked similar to a dog, but I had never seen one so small or so shaky before. The dog suddenly was snarling and yapping and struggling to get free of the man’s arms, and I resisted the urge to grab it and throw it across the entranceway.

I grimaced and stepped back to give the man and the small angry thing room to get past me. The dude didn’t seem to care his little shit was an annoyance and sauntered past me toward the front doors to the condo.

I stepped inside the elevator car and immediately spied the small pile of dogshit in the corner soaking in what looked like dog piss.

Hey! I shouted at the back of the departing man. The elevator doors started to slide shut. Did your fucking rat shit and piss in here?

I caught the smirk on the guy’s face as he looked back at me and then the doors closed.

What a fucking asshole… I grumbled and pressed floor twelve.

I held my nose and felt the elevator shudder and struggle to rise. In moments, the elevator sped up, and I watched the floor count rise. The car slowed and stopped at twelve with a loud ding and the doors opened. I stepped out and was once again hit with the smell of decay. White kitchen garbage bags were piled up next to the waste shoot leaking fluids into the carpet.

Jesus Fucking Christ, I muttered and saw the sign indicating condo 1213 was to my left. I quickly turned left and strode down the corridor. I tested the air, and the smell got less abrasive, and at the end of the corridor I spotted door 1213. I gave it a quick knock and heard a muffled voice inside.

I waited and heard someone on the other side of the door struggling with the security chain. I heard a rasp, a soft click, and then the door opened to reveal an elderly grey-haired lady, hunched over with some sort of back problem. She had to strain to look up at me and adjusted her shawl.

She sized me up quickly and then stood back and beckoned for me to enter. Well, don’t just stand there, get in here before the stink follows you…

I smiled at her and moved past her and turned to watch her close her door. She twisted the deadlock and then reached up with a trembling hand to put the security chain back on. I suppose I could have helped her, but it didn’t seem prudent. I could hear her breathing with effort, but she finally slid the chain on and then shuffled to turn around. She started when she found me still standing there.

Jesus! she squawked. What are you doing standing there? Get inside. Take your shoes off. Hang your jacket in the closet.

With surprising speed, she moved past me and disappeared around the corner.

I suppose you want coffee?

I shucked my loafers and started to remove my black Crombie overcoat. I opened the closet and noted it only contained two jackets for women. A summer one and a poor winter one. I hung up the jacket, closed the closet door, and adjusted my sweater before retracing the steps Alice had taken.

As soon as I turned the corner, I could see her condo. It was decorated exactly like you would expect an elderly lady to decorate her living space. Doilies were everywhere. The couch had an Afghan blanket thrown over it. Flowerpots and plants covered every place you looked. A small flat-screen TV was mounted over the gas fireplace. I noticed the