Alex Morrison Comedy Net Worth Novels & Stories

Then a second message to Lawrence, dictated from memory. "Contact the Morrison family attorney in the Hamptons. Request a private meeting with Alex Morrison. Frame it as an industry consultation. Do not use my name in the initial contact." Lawrence looked up from his notes. "Alex Morrison? The son of Henri Morrison?" "Yes." "He left the restaurant industry. He's been managing his father's care in the Hamptons for the past year." "I know where he is." I set down my phone. "Alex Morrison built Morrison's restaurant into a Michelin-starred institution. He is also the man who has been quietly in love with Kate Ashford for a decade and stepped aside when she married Devan Cole."

Unacceptable. "Is that…. all?" She asked, showing it through her voice that she was not satisfied with his answer. Maxwell sipped on his drink and said. "That's a lot of money? I know right? I also can't believe it sometimes that I earn that much." He smiled. "That was my peak though," he added, completely unbothered. "Normally it's closer to three hundred." Trisha could not believe what she was hearing. This Maxwell guy had to be joking. He just had to be. There was no way he was standing here telling them he made three hundred thousand a year and smiling about it like he just won the lottery.

I think it's suited for my job interview and just needs a little ironing to go well. Suddenly my phone rang and it was Alexa. "Hi gurl, wassup?", she asked first. "Well, I have two things to tell you, gurl. Which one you wanna hear first, the good or the bad one?", I responded and sat on my bed, leaning my back on the headboard. "You begin with the bad one gurl. What is it?", Alexa's voice was getting serious. "That bastard Simon Morris got bail so he was released before I could file criminal charges against him", I said in a sad tone of voice.

Horus was the typical person who only knew how to talk and only cared about personal feelings, without considering the actual situation. With their side at a clear disadvantage, it was not the time to argue with the other party. They could only get slaughtered, so the sooner they admitted it, the smaller the loss would be. If they let Alex continue to calculate, they would be screwed. According to Alex’s calculation of his own, Kevin Lindstrom’s, Carlton Favelle’s, and Jax Young's net worth, it was not impossible to go over $10 million. That amount was definitely not something he could get from just being an employee…

But the name Alex Morrison makes it impossible to ignore. "How many messages did she send?" "Twelve, to different accounts. All saying basically the same thing, but each one getting more desperate. The last one was barely coherent." "When was the most recent one?" "Three hours ago." I lean back in my chair, thinking. Alex Morrison has been a thorn in my side since we first competed for the Redstone government contract. When I won that bid, he launched a campaign to discredit Stark Industries. Planted stories in business journals about my supposed financial troubles. Hired investigators to dig up dirt on my personal life. Even tried to poach my key employees with offers they couldn't refuse.

I opened it and started reading out loud. "Richard Morrison. Age fifty three. Married to Elizabeth Morrison for twenty eight years. Three children. Lives in a house in Connecticut that is mortgaged for twice what it is worth. Currently in debt to the tune of three point seven million dollars due to gambling losses at casinos in Atlantic City and Las Vegas." Richard's face went from pale to red. "How did you get that information?" "I get all kinds of information. That is what happens when you run a company. You learn things about people."

With Morrison it was always both. Emma sat. Folded her hands in her lap. Waited. Morrison set down the document. Looked at them both. "Forty-seven million dollars," he said. "Yes, sir," Alex said. "Seven million above the damages calculation you walked in with." "The jury was thorough," Emma said.

I let out a stifled laugh, "He's having too much fun." "As evil as ever I see," he replied. "You've really got yourself in a situation, haven't you?" "If my mate brings 800 thousand dollars in cash to Hermosillo by 2 o clock tomorrow afternoon, he'll let me go." "Do you think he can?" he asked. I looked up, expecting a sadistic expression or at the least bit amused by my misery but instead, he seemed genuinely concerned. For a split second anyway, before he blinked and switched back to the same stony look he had had in my previous encounter with him.

"How much money are you talking about?" "I'm worth about sixty million, give or take. Years of smart investments have been good to me," A mummer broke out amongst the packs. Was Madoc for real? "Look, here's the cold, hard truth," Madoc continued, leaning against the bar. "You gave Sunrise Corporation a bloody nose, but you have no idea what you are dealing with. Once they realize that I too have retired early, they'll simply send someone else to pick up where I left off."

Maxwell patted his shoulder happily and said, “Don’t worry, I’m just playing around with my wife. I only have 7 million dollars in that passbook. How impactful can I be in the market?” Only 7 million dollars… Marcus thought to himself. As expected, a big shot like Maxwell was truly on a different level. He talked about 7 million dollars like it was a small amount of money! More than half an hour later, Maxwell looked at Sonnet with widened eyes. “Only…only 70 thousand dollars?”