Chapter 5 - The Confession on the Marble Floor“Get up, Constance,” I said, my voice cutting through the foyer like a shard of ice. “It’s unbecoming of a Hollis to grovel on foreign floors. Besides, your designer coat is getting ruined on the marble.”
Constance didn't move. She kept her head bowed, her shoulders shaking with suppressed tears and overwhelming panic.
“I deserve your contempt, Julia,” she whispered, her voice thick with humiliation. “I treated you abominably. For twelve years, I let my pride, my obsession with lineage, and my blind devotion to Richard’s ambitions blind me to the kind of woman you really were. And now... now we are paying the ultimate price.”
I took two slow steps forward, looking down at the woman who had once made it her life’s mission to make me feel small.
“You’re right, Constance,” I said quietly. “You did treat me abominably. You watched your son neglect me, betray me, and ultimately discard me, and you cheered him on because you thought Brianna Cole was a more convenient vessel for your precious dynasty.”
Constance flinched violently at the mention of Brianna’s name.
“That deceitful, calculating monster,” Constance hissed, the venom finally breaking through her despair. “She played us all. She lied to Richard from the very beginning. She claimed those babies were his... but an hour before I left Boston, Richard received a package at the townhouse.”
I tilted my head, feigning mild curiosity. “Oh? What kind of package?”
“A forensic paternity dossier,” Constance shuddered, pulling a crumpled white envelope from her coat pocket and holding it out toward me with a trembling hand. “Sent anonymously to our corporate legal counsel. It proves—beyond a shadow of a doubt—that Brianna’s unborn twins belong to Julian Vance. She was his plant all along. A sleeper agent planted inside our company to bankrupt us from the inside out.”
I looked down at the envelope, then back up at Constance’s tear-stained face.
“And where is Richard now?” I asked calmly.
“He’s locked himself in his study,” Constance sobbed. “He’s drinking himself into a stupor. He hasn't spoken a word in six hours. The board of directors is holding an emergency vote at midnight to strip him of his CEO title, and Julian Vance has already acquired fifty-one percent of our outstanding voting shares through hostile shell companies. By tomorrow morning, the Hollis empire will be completely wiped out.”
She looked up, her red-rimmed eyes locking onto mine with a desperate, pathetic plea.
“You have the capital, Julia. Your family’s trust—the Hartwell reserves—they’re untouched. If you step in, if you inject liquidity and issue a counter-suit against Julian Vance, you can save the company. You can save Richard.”
I let out a soft, cold laugh.
“Save Richard?” I repeated, my tone dropping into a dangerous, razor-sharp register. “Constance, let me make something crystal clear to you. I didn't spend twelve years playing the dutiful, silent wife just to throw my family’s hard-earned capital into a burning dumpster fire to bail out a cheating, narcissistic coward.”
Constance’s jaw dropped. “Julia—!”
“Richard made his bed,” I interrupted, stepping closer until I towered over her kneeling form. “He signed the divorce papers. He paid me fifty million dollars to walk out of his life. And as of tonight, I am officially cashing that check, taking my name, my assets, and my freedom far away from the toxic wreckage of your family.”
“You can’t do that!” Constance cried out, panic flaring anew. “You’re a Hollis!”
“No, Constance,” I corrected her firmly. “I am a Hartwell. And I was never truly a Hollis—you made sure of that every single day I lived under your roof.”
I turned around, gesturing to my security guards.
“Escort Mrs. Hollis to the guest suite on the lower level,” I instructed coldly. “Ensure she has dinner, a comfortable bed, and a private phone line so she can call her lawyers in the morning. But under no circumstances is she to leave this estate without my explicit authorization.”
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“Julia! Please!” Constance shrieked as the two guards gently but firmly lifted her up from the marble floor, guiding her away toward the hallway. “You can’t abandon us! We’re family!”
“Family,” I murmured softly to myself as the heavy oak doors closed behind her, “is earned. Not inherited.”
