Chapter 4 - Bloodlines and Betrayals
The air in the hallway turned to pure poison.
Grace pulled the two girls behind her,
her knuckles white,
her jaw clenched so hard I could hear the grinding of her teeth.
Amelia Brooks stood there in her emerald gown and fur coat,
looking like an empress who had accidentally stepped into the sewer.
She didn't spare a glance of pity for the shivering children.
She didn't look at the medical equipment.
She looked only at me,
her manicured finger tapping against her designer bag with impatient rhythm.
“Ryan,
darling,
put an end to this pathetic theater,”
Amelia said,
her voice carrying that polished,
high-society condescension I had been blind to for two solid years.
“I know she’s making a scene.
I know she’s trying to extort you for child support before our engagement announcement hits the Wall Street Journal tomorrow morning.
Give her twenty thousand dollars through corporate legal,
have security escort her to the curb,
and let’s go.
We have an empire to merge tonight.”
I stared at Amelia.
It felt as if a thick,
suffocating veil was being ripped from my eyes.
For two years,
I had believed Amelia was graceful,
poised,
the ideal partner to help me run Vance Enterprises.
My mother had introduced us.
My mother had constantly praised her breeding,
her family’s healthcare empire,
her restraint.
Now,
looking at her,
I saw only a monster wrapped in silk and emeralds.
“You knew,”
I said.
My voice was quiet,
barely a rumble,
but it carried an edge that made Amelia pause.
“Ryan,
don't be ridiculous—”
“You knew about these children,”
I stepped toward her,
my fists clenching so hard inside my coat pockets that my nails bit into my palms.
“You knew Grace was in Chicago.
You knew Leo was sick.
You used your family’s foundation to strip his insurance away this morning!”
Amelia’s eyes flickered,
a tiny flash of panic betraying her composure before her arrogant mask snapped right back into place.
“And what if I did?”
she hissed,
dropping all pretense of innocence.
“What choice did I have,
Ryan?
Your pathetic ex-wife was sniffing around our hospitals,
begging for handouts,
threatening to drag the Vance name through the mud with bastard children!”
“They are not bastards!”
The roar tore from my throat with such raw,
savage intensity that Amelia actually recoiled,
taking a stumbling step backward on her thin heels.
“They are my children!
My blood!
My heirs!”
“They are an embarrassment!”
Amelia shrieked back,
her beautiful face contorting with ugly malice.
“Your mother and I handled this three years ago!
We gave her money to leave!
We told her to disappear!
She signed the papers!
She gave up her rights to your world!
And instead of staying in the gutter where she belongs,
she brought these sick little leeches back to ruin everything we’ve built!”
She pointed a sharp,
diamond-encrusted finger at Grace.
“You listen to me,
Grace.
If you think for one second that having his face on that sickly boy will get you a dime of the Vance trust,
you are out of your mind.
I will have my father’s lawyers tie you up in court until you lose your custody,
your apartment,
and whatever dignity you have left.
You will die in the streets before you touch our future!”
Grace didn't back down.
Despite her soaked coat,
despite her trembling frame,
she stepped directly in front of Amelia.
“I never wanted his money,
Amelia,”
Grace said,
her voice trembling with profound disgust.
“I never asked for his empire.
I asked for medicine for my dying son.
Medicine that your foundation hoards while your family drinks champagne on yachts funded by charity write-offs.
You are a hollow,
vicious ghoul,
and I pity Ryan for being stupid enough to let you touch him.”
Amelia gasped,
raising her hand as if to strike Grace across the face.
I caught Amelia’s wrist in mid-air.
My grip was iron.
I squeezed until the gold bangles on her arm clattered together,
forcing her hand down.
“Ryan!
You’re hurting me!”
she cried out,
shocked that I had physically intervened.
“Get your coat,”
I whispered,
my eyes burning into hers with lethal promise.
“Get in your limousine.
And get out of my sight before I forget every shred of civility I possess.”
“You’re choosing her?”
Amelia’s voice broke into high-pitched hysteria.
“You’re choosing this pathetic waitress and her sick litter over me?
Over the Brooks merger?
Over your mother?
Your mother will strip you of your chairmanship by midnight!”
I slowly reached into my right pocket.
My fingers closed around the velvet box.
I pulled it out.
Amelia’s eyes instantly dropped to it,
a sudden flicker of greedy hope flashing in her gaze.
“Ryan…
the ring…”
Without breaking eye contact,
I walked two steps to the stainless-steel biohazard and industrial waste bin mounted beside the nurses' desk.
I pressed the foot pedal.
The metal lid clanged open.
I released the box.
The velvet case,
containing the two-hundred-thousand-dollar Antwerp diamond,
dropped into the darkness of the trash with a dull,
hollow thud.
The lid slammed shut.
Amelia’s mouth fell open in total,
shattered disbelief.
“The merger is dead,”
I said calmly.
“The engagement is dead.
And if you or my mother ever come within a hundred yards of my wife and my children again,
I won't just sue you,
Amelia.
I will use every forensic accountant,
every private intelligence firm,
and every billion dollars in my personal vault to expose what the Brooks Foundation has been doing with charity funds for the last ten years.
Now get out.”
Amelia stood frozen for three seconds,
her chest heaving,
humiliation burning red across her pale neck.
Then,
with a choked sob of pure,
unfiltered rage,
May you like
she spun on her heels and fled through the sliding doors,
disappearing into the Chicago storm.
