Chapter 5 - The Desperate HeirBy Friday afternoon, the reality of total financial ruin had finally crushed what remained of Preston Hale’s fragile ego.
I was sitting in my newly renovated corner office on the fiftieth floor, reviewing an architectural proposal for the lobby redesign of the newly rechristened Carter Grand Hotel, when my executive assistant’s voice buzzed through the intercom.
“Ms. Carter? There’s a visitor in the lobby insisting on seeing you. He says his name is Preston Hale.”
I paused, looking up from my tablet. A cold, amusement-filled smile touched my lips.
“Send him up, security escort included,” I instructed.
Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors of my office swung open.
Preston Hale didn't look like the arrogant prince of Chicago society anymore. His designer tuxedo was replaced by a wrinkled off-the-rack shirt with no tie. His hair was messy, his eyes were bloodshot, and his hands trembled as he stepped nervously into the expansive office.
Two of my father’s security guards flanked him closely, their massive hands resting casually on their utility belts.
Preston stopped ten feet away from my desk, staring at me with a mixture of utter disbelief, humiliation, and desperate pleading.
“Elena,” he whispered, his voice cracking.
“It’s Ms. Carter to you, Preston,” I said flatly, not bothering to look up from my tablet.
“Please,” he choked out, taking a desperate step forward before one of the guards gently pushed him back with a heavy forearm. “You have to help me. My father had a mild heart attack this morning when the bank seized our family home. Our accounts are frozen, our cars were repossessed an hour ago, and the police... the police are investigating my father for corporate insolvency fraud.”
I finally looked up, resting my chin on my intertwined fingers. “That sounds like a very difficult situation, Preston. Have you tried asking the catering company for help?”
Preston flinched as if I had slapped him across the face. The humiliation of his own words from Tuesday night came rushing back to haunt him.
“I was an idiot,” Preston sobbed, his voice breaking as tears welled up in his eyes. “I didn't know who you were! If I had known your father was Michael Carter—if I had known you owned the hotel—I never would have—”
“If I had been part of the catering staff, it would have been fine?” I interrupted, my voice dropping into a razor-sharp whisper. “If I had been a waitress working for thirty dollars a night, pouring wine on me for your entertainment would have been acceptable?”
Preston opened his mouth, but no words came out. He swallowed hard, trembling violently.
“That is the fundamental flaw in your worldview, Preston,” I continued, standing up slowly from my leather executive chair and walking around to the front of the desk. “You thought power and respect were determined by the brand of your suit or the price of your ticket. You spent your entire life stepping on people you deemed beneath you, assuming there would never be a reckoning.”
“I’ll do anything,” Preston whispered, dropping to his knees on the plush wool carpet, exactly where he had knelt in the ballroom days earlier. “Just give me a job... anything. I’ll clean floors, I’ll valet cars, I’ll work in the basement—”
“You wouldn't last five minutes in the basement, Preston,” I said coldly.
I turned my head toward the security guards. “Escort Mr. Hale out of the building. And make sure he’s permanently added to the blacklist across all Carter-affiliated properties in the state of Illinois.”
“No, please—!” Preston screamed as the two massive guards hauled him up by his arms, dragging him backward toward the double doors.
“Goodbye, Preston,” I said, turning my back on him and walking back to my desk.
As the heavy doors clicked shut, cutting off his frantic cries, I looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the sprawling expanse of Chicago below.
May you like
The city was vast, complex, and ruthless. But as the afternoon sunlight caught the glass towers of the Carter Grand Hotel down the street, I knew one thing for certain:
The city finally belonged to us.
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