Chapter 5 - The Departure
The sheer, absolute destruction of a man is a surprisingly quiet thing to watch.
Richard didn't scream. He didn't fight the guards. He was a man who lived and died by optics, and the reality of his situation had finally crushed the fight out of him. With shaking hands, in the middle of a five-star hotel lobby, the "titan of industry" unzipped his confiscated luxury luggage and began stuffing his silk shirts and expensive ties into a black garbage bag.
Jessica Monroe didn't stay to watch.
The moment Caroline mentioned the loss of his company, Jessica turned on her heel and practically sprinted for the revolving doors, fleeing out into the rainy New York night without a single backward glance.
When the trash bag was full, Richard slung it over his shoulder. He looked ten years older. The arrogant fire in his eyes was entirely extinguished, replaced by the hollow, terrifying realization that he had just detonated his own life.
He looked at me one last time.
"Victoria..." he rasped, his voice pathetic and small.
"Escort him out," I told the guards, turning my back on him before he could finish the sentence. "If he steps foot on Davenport property again, have him arrested for trespassing."
I didn't watch him walk out the door. I didn't need to.
I walked over to the VIP concierge desk. Elena was standing perfectly straight, holding a polished brass keycard.
"Your suite is ready, Mrs. Sterling," Elena said, her voice filled with quiet, fierce respect.
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"It's just Ms. Davenport now, Elena," I corrected her with a small, genuine smile.
I took the keycard, walked to the private elevator, and pressed the button for the penthouse. The doors closed, sealing out the noise of the lobby, leaving me in the quiet, ascending hum of a building that was, finally and completely, my own.
