Chapter 6 - The Begging Season
The ground-floor lobby of the Vale Capital tower was a masterpiece of polished white marble, soaring ceilings, and bulletproof architectural glass. It was designed to intimidate, to remind anyone who entered that they were standing in the heart of global financial power.
Right now, that pristine silence was being shattered by the frantic screams of two desperate people.
“Let go of me! Do you know who I am?!” Richard Whitmore was shrieking, thrashing against the firm grip of two towering security officers. His suit was wrinkled, his tie askew, and dark circles hollowed out his bloodshot eyes. He looked as if he hadn't slept in two days.
Beside him, Patricia was weeping dramatically, clutching a designer handbag that had seen better days. “Emily is our daughter! She owes us everything! You have no right to keep us from our child!”
A small crowd of financial journalists, building tenants, and security personnel had formed a wide semi-circle around them, phones recording every disgraceful second.
The private executive elevator chimed with a soft, resonant bell.
The crowd went silent.
The brushed-steel doors slid open, and Alexander and I stepped out together, flanked by Daniel Mercer and four executive protection operatives.
The moment Richard saw me, his eyes lit up with wild, desperate hope. “Emily! Emily, baby, thank God!”
He tried to lunge forward, but the security guards held him firmly in place.
“Emily, you have to stop this!” Richard cried, his voice breaking into a ragged sob. “The bank took our house! The foreclosure notice is on the front gate! They seized the cars, the accounts… Vanessa is locked in her room threatening to kill herself! Julian won’t take our calls! We have nothing, Emily! We don’t even have enough cash to buy groceries!”
Patricia fell to her knees right there on the marble floor, completely abandoning the icy, superior arrogance she had displayed by the fountain.
“Emily, forgive us!” Patricia pleaded, tears streaming down her makeup-streaked cheeks. “We were wrong! We were foolish, arrogant old fools! But we are your parents! We gave you life! You can't cast us out onto the street like dogs! Look at your father—his heart can’t take this stress! If you have any love in your heart, tell Mr. Vale to drop the lawsuits!”
I stopped three feet in front of them, looking down at my mother kneeling on the floor.
How many times had I knelt before her as a child, begging for a single word of praise? How many times had I sat alone in my bedroom while they took Vanessa to Paris, to Milan, to five-star resorts, leaving me behind with a tutor because I wasn't “glamorous” enough to represent the family?
“Get up, Mother,” I said, my voice completely devoid of emotion. “You look pathetic.”
Patricia blinked in shock, her tears pausing mid-track. “Emily… how can you be so cruel?”
“Cruel?” Alexander’s voice cut through the air like a broadsword. He stepped forward, his presence towering over Richard. “Cruelty was shoving your daughter into a filthy fountain while eighty people laughed at her. Cruelty was filming her humiliation so you could broadcast it to your social circle. Cruelty was treating a brilliant, generous woman like domestic help while you embezzled millions to feed your worthless vanity.”
Richard looked at me, his lip trembling. “Emily… blood is thicker than water. You can’t turn your back on your own blood!”
“You’re right, Richard,” I said softly, leaning down slightly so my gaze pierced right through him. “Blood is thicker than water. But the water in that fountain was cold enough to freeze whatever blood tied me to you.”
I stood tall, turning to Daniel Mercer.
“Daniel, did the court grant the emergency restraining order?”
“It was signed twenty minutes ago by Judge Hastings, Mrs. Vale,” Daniel replied, holding up a certified court document. “Richard, Patricia, and Vanessa Whitmore are prohibited from approaching within five hundred feet of you, your residence, or any facility operated by Vale Capital. Any violation will result in immediate custodial arrest.”
Richard’s face drained of all color. “A restraining order? Against your own father?!”
“You are not my father,” I said clearly. “You are merely the man who shared my DNA and stole from my company.”
I turned to the head of security. “Remove them from the premises. If they step onto this sidewalk again, have them arrested.”
As the security guards dragged Richard and Patricia toward the revolving glass doors, Richard began screaming curses, his voice turning shrill and manic.
“You ungrateful bitch! You’ll burn for this! You think this billionaire really loves you?! You’re nothing! You’ll always be nothing!”
The heavy glass doors spun, cutting off his screams mid-sentence.
Alexander reached out, sliding his warm hand into mine, his fingers intertwining with my own. He leaned down, his lips brushing against my temple.
“You did wonderfully, my love,” he whispered.
May you like
I took a deep breath, feeling the last remaining invisible chains of my childhood shatter into dust. “It’s not over yet,” I murmured. “Vanessa still has her phone.”
***
