Chapter 7 - The Confrontation at Oakridge
Two days later, on a rainy Wednesday afternoon, I was stepping out of the glass entrance of Oakridge Investments, wrapped in a sleek black trench coat, heading toward my father’s waiting sedan.
Suddenly, a figure bolted out from behind a concrete pillar in the plaza, dripping wet, his suit wrinkled and stained, his hair wild and unkempt.
"Valeria! Valeria, please!"
It was Marcus.
Two of my father’s personal bodyguards instantly stepped forward, forming an impenetrable wall between Marcus and me, their hands resting flat against their jackets.
"Valeria, please! Tell them to let me talk to you!" Marcus begged, falling to his knees on the wet concrete floor, completely unbothered by the rain soaking through his trousers. "Just five minutes! I am begging you!"
I paused. I looked at the bodyguards and gave them a subtle nod to stand down, though they remained alert, just three feet away.
I stepped forward, holding my black umbrella calmly over my head, looking down at the man who had tried to subjugate my life forty-eight hours ago.
"You have two minutes, Marcus," I said coldly.
Marcus looked up at me, his eyes red-rimmed, his face gaunt and hollowed out from two sleepless nights of terror.
"Valeria... I am so sorry," he wept, wiping his wet nose with his wet sleeve. "I was blind. I was weak. My mother... she manipulated me my whole life. She convinced me that if I didn't keep you under her control, you would leave me! She forced me to present those three rules to you!"
"Your mother didn't force you to grab my wrist, Marcus," I reminded him flatly. "She didn't force you to tell me to shut up and apologize so you could protect your corporate promotion. You made those choices freely because you believed I was weak enough to accept them."
"I was stupid! I was a coward!" Marcus cried out, reaching out his trembling hands toward my shoes, though he didn't dare touch them. "The SEC is filing criminal charges against me, Valeria! Vance Capital is foreclosing on my condo and my mother’s house! We are going to lose everything! We will be homeless! Please... ask your father to withdraw the foreclosure! Ask Mr. Sterling to drop the criminal referral! I’ll do anything! I’ll sign whatever agreement you want! I’ll sign a prenuptial agreement giving you total control of my life!"
I looked down at him kneeling in the mud, feeling neither anger nor pleasure. Only a cold, profound pity for a man who had traded his integrity for a illusion of power, only to lose both.
"Do you remember what my father taught me growing up, Marcus?" I asked softly over the sound of the falling rain.
Marcus blinked through his tears. "What... what did he teach you?"
"'Watch how people treat you before they know what you have,'" I quoted gently. "For two years, I lived modestly. I split the bill on our dates. I bought my own clothes. I listened to your mother insult my background and my career, and I stayed quiet because I believed you loved me for who I was."
I leaned down slightly, looking him dead in the eyes.
"The moment your mother laid out those three rules, you showed me exactly who you were. You saw a partner as an asset to harvest. And the moment you found out who my father was, you didn't feel remorse for hurting me—you felt terror because you realized you had picked a fight with someone who could destroy you."
"Valeria... please..." Marcus sobbed, clutching his chest. "I love you..."
"You don't love me, Marcus," I said firmly, standing back up to my full height. "You love security. And you lost it the moment you surrendered your backbone to your mother."
I turned on my heel and walked toward the sleek black sedan parked at the curb.
"Valeria! VALERIA!" Marcus shrieked behind me, his voice echoing frantically off the towering skyscrapers of the financial district. "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! VALERIA!"
The bodyguard opened the door for me. I stepped inside, shaking the rain off my umbrella. The heavy door closed with a solid, absolute thud, cutting off Marcus’s desperate screams instantly.
My father sat in the backseat beside me, holding two fresh cups of coffee. He handed one to me with a warm, approving smile.
"Ready to go home, Director Vance?" he asked gently.
May you like
I looked out the tinted window as the sedan pulled away from the curb, watching Marcus’s shrinking figure kneeling alone in the rain on the cold concrete plaza.
"Yes, Dad," I replied, taking a warm sip of coffee. "Let's go home."
