Chapter 6 - The Exit StrategyThe chaos inside the grand ballroom of the Grand Meridian Hotel was deafening, but within our private circle, an absolute, serene calm prevailed. Flashbulbs were going off outside the velvet ropes as reporters and paparazzi, tipped off by Harrell Global’s media relations team, flooded the hotel lobby to capture the dramatic fall of Conway Enterprises.
"Let's go, sweetheart," my father murmured, gently resting his hand on my shoulder. "The car is waiting downstairs. There's nothing left for you in this city."
I took one final look at Spencer. He was still kneeling on the floor, his head bowed, the polished gray suit looking absurdly oversized on his trembling frame. He looked up just as I turned away, his eyes wide and hollow, pleading for a shred of mercy that he had never once extended to me.
I didn't offer him a word. Mercy was for people who understood remorse; Spencer only understood loss.
As we walked toward the private VIP elevator, shielded by Marcus Vance and our security detail, the heavy mahogany doors closed smoothly, shutting out the shouting reporters, the flashing cameras, and the wreckage of my past life.
The private elevator whisked us down past forty floors of steel and concrete, descending directly into the subterranean underground parking garage where my father’s bulletproof Maybach waited alongside a gleaming black SUV.
As the cool night air of Cleveland hit my face, the tension that had gripped my shoulders for three long years finally melted away.
"Are you alright, Phoebe?" my father asked softly as he helped me settle into the plush leather back seat of the Maybach.
"I've never felt better, Dad," I replied, leaning my head back against the headrest and closing my eyes for a brief moment. "I thought humility would build a home. I was wrong. Strength does."
May you like
"A Harrell doesn't need to make herself small to be loved," my father said firmly, resting his hand over mine. "We are builders, not shadows. And your new life starts the moment this plane lifts off the tarmac."
Ten minutes later, our convoy slipped out of the underground garage and headed straight for Burke Lakefront Airport, where the sleek, twin-engine Gulfstream G700 sat idling on the private runway, its navigation lights blinking against the dark expanse of Lake Erie.
