Chapter 7 - The Aftermath
The fallout was swift and violent. Within forty-eight hours, my phone was bombarded by furious texts from extended relatives I hadn't spoken to in years, all parroting my mother's version of events: that I was a bitter, jealous spinster who had ruined my brother's life out of spite.
I didn't answer a single one of them. I simply blocked their numbers, forwarded my emails to my legal counsel, and threw myself into my work.
Obsidian Point was thriving. Spring bookings were at an all-time high, our commercial occupancy rate was sitting at ninety-eight percent, and my development team was already scouting land for our second luxury property downtown. I was powerful, respected, and completely financially independent.
Yet, on a quiet Thursday evening a week after the incident, as I stood on my private penthouse balcony looking out over the sparkling ocean under a blanket of stars, a strange ache settled in my chest.
It wasn't regret. Never regret. It was the heavy realization of how much of my life I had spent trying to earn love from people who only loved what I could provide for them.
My phone buzzed on the patio table. I glanced down, expecting another blocked-number rant or a legal warning from Caleb's new cut-rate divorce lawyer.
Instead, it was an unknown local number.
I hesitated, then swiped to answer. "Hello?"
"Ms. Sterling?" a deep, unfamiliar male voice asked. "My name is Julian Vance. I believe you're acquainted with my daughter, Bianca."
I stiffened instantly, my hand tightening around the phone. "Mr. Vance. How did you get this number?"
"Let's just say I have ways of finding people who matter," Julian replied, his tone chillingly smooth. He was a ruthless corporate liquidator known for buying up failing companies and stripping them down to the studs. "I'm calling because my daughter is currently a complete wreck, crying her eyes out in her mother's kitchen, and my prospective son-in-law is threatening to jump off a bridge because his credit cards have been declined at every luxury dealership in the city."
"That sounds like a personal problem, Mr. Vance," I said coldly. "Take it up with them."
"Oh, it is a personal problem," Julian chuckled darkly, "but it's becoming my problem because Bianca claims you humiliated her out of pure spite. However, knowing my daughter, she usually steps in messes she's too arrogant to clean up. I've reviewed the financial disclosures Caleb handed over in a panic yesterday. You've been bankrolling his entire existence for three years."
"I used to," I corrected. "Past tense."
"Quite right," Julian agreed. "Which is why I'm not calling to beg you to take him back on as a charity case. Quite the opposite. I'm calling to propose a business proposition."
May you like
I narrowed my eyes. "A business proposition?"
"Indeed. Drop by my office tomorrow morning at ten. Let's discuss how we can properly dismantle the little parasite your brother has become—while teaching my daughter a lesson she should have learned a decade ago."
