Chapter 15 - The Ghost of the Past
The massive,
double-paned glass doors of the Obsidian Holdings tower slid open,
and the freezing,
relentless rain immediately assaulted my senses.
I stepped out onto the sheltered marble portico,
flanked tightly by Arthur and four massive,
heavily armed security guards,
the dark,
oversized umbrella shielding me from the violent storm.
There,
kneeling in the deep,
filthy puddle at the bottom of the grand stone steps,
was Daniel.
He was a horrifying,
unrecognizable shell of his former arrogant self,
his expensive suit shredded and stained with vomit and mud,
his hair matted to his skull,
his skin a sickly,
pale gray.
He looked up as I emerged,
his hollow,
sunken eyes locking onto my immaculate,
powerful silhouette,
and a ragged,
pathetic sob ripped violently from his throat.
"Elara,"
he choked out,
using my first name,
a name he hadn't spoken with respect in three long years,
"please,
please listen to me,
I am so sorry,
I am so incredibly sorry for everything."
I stood at the top of the stairs,
looking down at him like a goddess passing judgment on a sinful,
worthless mortal,
feeling absolutely nothing but a cold,
sterile disgust.
"You are not sorry for what you did,
Daniel,"
I stated calmly,
my voice projecting clearly over the roaring thunder,
"you are only sorry that you were caught,
you are only sorry that you are currently freezing to death in the gutter where you belong."
He dragged himself slowly up the first step,
his bloody,
scraped hands slipping on the wet stone,
desperately trying to get closer to my warmth,
to my power.
The security guards instantly stepped forward,
placing their heavy boots firmly on his shoulders,
forcing him back down into the freezing water with brutal,
efficient force.
"Don't touch me,"
I commanded sharply,
staring into his terrified,
weeping eyes.
"I have nothing!"
Daniel screamed,
tears mixing with the dirty rain streaming down his face,
"I haven't eaten in three days,
my mother is locked in a psychiatric ward,
I sleep behind a dumpster,
you have taken your revenge,
haven't you punished me enough?"
He clasped his hands together in a desperate,
humiliating prayer,
bowing his head until his forehead touched the muddy stone.
"I am not asking for the company back,"
he begged pathetically,
"I am not asking for the mansion,
just give me a thousand dollars,
just enough to buy a bus ticket out of this city,
please,
I will never bother you again,
I swear on my life!"
I watched him grovel,
remembering the countless times he had mocked my supposed poverty,
remembering the arrogant smirk on his face when he told me I was nothing without his generosity.
I slowly reached into my designer purse,
pulling out a crisp,
brand-new hundred-dollar bill,
holding it lightly between my manicured fingers.
Daniel's eyes widened with desperate,
starving hope,
his hand reaching out trembling,
ready to snatch the tiny lifeline I was dangling in front of him.
"You think money will save you,
Daniel?"
I asked softly,
my voice a deadly,
icy whisper that cut straight to his soul,
"you think you can buy your way out of the hell you built with your own two hands?"
I let go of the bill.
The violent wind instantly snatched the money from the air,
blowing it across the wet street,
sending it tumbling into a deep,
filthy storm drain before Daniel could even move a muscle.
He screamed in pure agony,
lunging forward desperately,
but the guards held him back effortlessly,
leaving him sobbing hysterically at the edge of the stairs.
"You are a ghost,
Daniel,"
I delivered my final,
crushing verdict,
looking down at his broken,
shivering form for the very last time,
"and ghosts do not need money,
they just fade away into the darkness,
forgotten by everyone."
I turned my back on him,
the heavy glass doors sliding shut behind me,
cutting off his miserable screams completely,
as I walked back into my warm,
May you like
gilded empire,
leaving the past to drown in the cold,
