Chapter 4 - The Tables TurnedThree weeks later, the corporate landscape of Dallas was reeling from a massive restructuring at Whitmore Corporation.
As the newly appointed Vice President of Philanthropic Investments and Strategic Development—a role grandfather formally handed to me during a glittering board meeting attended by every major executive in the state—my first official duty was overseeing a major real estate acquisition downtown.
The building in question was the Apex Global Tower—the very same skyscraper where Julian had once strutted around like a king, boasting about his corporate influence.
Apex Global had folded under the weight of its bad investments and the loss of Whitmore’s contracts. Whitmore Corporation had bought out the building’s debt for pennies on the dollar, and today was the day the new management team was scheduled to tour the premises.
I arrived in a custom-tailored ivory Chanel suit, my hair styled in sleek waves, wearing a sparkling diamond necklace that easily cost more than Julian’s former annual salary. My old navy dress was long gone, burned in a bonfire behind my new estate along with every painful memory of the past.
As I stepped out of the private elevator onto the executive floor, the doors parted to reveal a line of former Apex executives standing awkwardly in the hallway, hoping to secure low-level consulting gigs with the new owners.
And right there in the middle of the pack, looking older, thinner, and utterly hollowed out, stood Julian.
He wore an off-the-rack suit that was slightly too large for his frame—a suit he had clearly bought at a discount department store. His hair was uncombed, and the arrogant confidence that had once defined his every movement was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, twitchy servility.
When he looked up and saw me stepping out of the private elevator surrounded by armed security and senior Whitmore directors, his breath caught in his throat.
He blinked once. Twice. Refusing to believe his eyes.
“Elena...?” Julian whispered, his voice cracking as he took an involuntary step forward.
The security guards immediately stepped in front of me, their arms crossed. Julian didn't care. He pushed past them, ignoring the warning shouts, falling to his knees right on the polished marble floor in front of my Louboutin heels.
“Elena, please!” Julian sobbed, grabbing the hem of my skirt. “Please! I was a fool! I didn't know! If I had known who your family was—if I had known you were a Kensington—I swear to God I would have treated you like a queen!”
The entire hallway fell dead silent. Senior executives from Whitmore Corporation watched in stunned disgust as a grown man wept publicly over the woman he had once ordered to hide near the kitchen.
I looked down at him, my expression completely impassive, devoid of anger, pity, or sorrow.
“If I had known I was a Kensington, Julian, I never would have wasted seven years of my life on a pathetic parasite who measures his worth by the brand of his watch,” I said coldly, my voice ringing clearly through the corridor.
Julian choked on a sob, his face flushing bright red with humiliating shame. “I lost everything, Elena! My apartment is gone! My car was repossessed! I’m sleeping on a cot in a friend’s garage! Please... just give me a job. Anything. A janitor, a parking attendant—I’ll do whatever you want!”
I bent down slightly, my eyes locking onto his bloodshot, desperate ones.
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“You wanted to climb to the top of Dallas society so badly, Julian,” I whispered softly. “So go ahead. Climb.”
I straightened up, gestured to the security guards to remove him, and stepped over his outstretched hands into the executive boardroom, leaving him kneeling alone on the cold marble floor.
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