Chapter 3 - The Board’s Verdict
Richard Vance’s silk tie was askew, his silver hair completely unkempt as he rushed onto the wet patio. He didn't even notice the horrifying state of his daughter, standing coated in thick white soup and ruined silk.
“Dad!” Victoria whined, rushing toward him and leaving creamy footprints behind. “Look what this savage did to me! Look what Damon did! Call the police! Have him broken!”
Richard slapped her hands away with blind panic. “Shut up, Victoria! Shut up!”
The gasps from the watching guests rippled like dominoes. Never had anyone seen Richard Vance strike out at his precious, pampered daughter.
Richard dropped to his knees right in front of Damon, heedless of the soup-slicked stone soaking through his bespoke trousers. He lifted bloodshot, terrified eyes toward the young man towering over him.
“Lord... Lord Vance,” Richard choked out, his voice cracking violently. “It’s a mistake. The board... the emergency board meeting... they just froze all my accounts. The creditors are calling in the five-billion-dollar note due at midnight. They said... they said the Chairman was standing in this courtyard.”
Maya’s eyes widened in sheer shock. She looked from the pathetic, shivering man on his knees up to her brother’s face. For five years, she believed Damon had been working manual labor abroad, barely sending back enough money for her modest living while she endured abusive part-time catering jobs.
“Richard,” Damon said softly, looking down at his uncle with utter indifference. “Five years ago, when my father begged you for three hundred thousand dollars to pay for his heart surgery, what did you tell him?”
Richard’s lips trembled violently. Tears of terror spilled down his aged cheeks. “I... I was wrong, Damon. Please. Blood is thicker than water! We’re family!”
“You told him,” Damon recited with merciless precision, “that dying dogs should crawl into the gutter so they don’t dirty the house.”
Damon turned his back on Richard, taking Maya’s hand. “Maya, let’s go home.”
“Wait!” Victoria yelled, unable to comprehend the nightmare unfolding before her. “Dad, why are you begging this beggar? Who cares about the debt? We own Crestview Manor! This house is legally mine!”
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Damon paused, half-turning with a dark, mocking smile. “Not anymore. Check your notifications, Victoria.”
A sharp ping sounded from Victoria’s jeweled phone resting on a cocktail table nearby.
