Part 3: The True Heir Restored
Panic consumed the woman’s face as she realized the complete destruction of her luxurious life was happening in real-time. She lunged forward, sobbing and begging for forgiveness, screaming about her social status and public scandals, but the businessman didn't even look at her. To him, she was already a ghost.
He turned his back on the screaming woman and knelt back down before his daughter. With infinite gentleness, he took off his heavy, warm cashmere overcoat and wrapped it securely around the girl’s frail, shivering shoulders, completely covering the stained and degraded maid's uniform.
"I'm sorry," the little girl whispered, her hot tears soaking into his expensive shirt. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you... she said if I called you, you would be angry with me..."
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"Shh," he murmured, pulling her into a fierce, unbreakable embrace as the heavy, rhythmic boots of the security team echoed down the grand hallway. "The only one who is going to be punished tonight is her. You are the sole heir to everything I have built, Eleanor. And I promise you, by tomorrow morning, the woman who made you scrub these floors will be begging on the streets."
He picked his daughter up in his arms, lifting her off her bruised knees and carrying her away from the cold stone floor. He walked steadily toward the warmth of the inner house, leaving the echoes of the false queen's desperate, pathetic screams to fade into the darkness behind them.
