Chapter 8 - The Beggar in the Rain
Forty-eight hours later, the weather broke, unleashing a relentless torrent of autumn rain over the city.
Sterling Crest Tower was operating at full capacity. The transition was swift; Victoria Sterling’s legal team worked around the clock, reassuring clients, stabilizing stock value, and restructuring internal management. The market had responded with roaring approval—the stock had not only recovered its losses but gained fourteen percent as institutional investors cheered the return of legitimate Sterling leadership.
At eight o'clock in the evening, I stepped out of the lobby into the private covered courtyard where my car was waiting.
"Ethan."
The voice was hollow, raspy, and weak.
Standing beside the concrete pillars, completely drenched in rain, was Richard.
He wore an old trench coat that hung loosely over his frame. His hair was plastered to his forehead, his face pale and sunken. He looked twenty years older than the man who had held the microphone at the birthday gala just two days ago.
My private security guard took a step forward, his hand moving toward his jacket, but I raised my hand to stop him.
"Let him speak," I said.
Richard stepped forward, his waterlogged shoes squelching against the pavement. He looked up at me, his lip trembling.
"The bank froze my personal accounts this morning," Richard whispered. "They foreclosed on the estate. Margaret left for Monaco last night—she took whatever she could liquidate. Brandon got arrested at JFK trying to board a flight to Dubai with half a million in unregistered cash."
I stood still, feeling the cool mist of the rain against my skin. "You created that family, Richard. You taught them that loyalty is only as strong as the balance sheet."
Richard took another step, falling onto his knees on the wet asphalt.
The proud, untouchable billionaire was kneeling in the dirt, the rain washing over his expensive suit, sobbing openly.
"Please, Ethan," he wept, looking up with bloodshot, desperate eyes. "I'm your father. Blood is blood. You can't leave me with nothing. I have nowhere to go. No one will take my calls. My own lawyers won't answer the phone. Just give me an allowance... a small apartment... anything. For your mother’s sake."
I looked down at him. For twenty years, I had dreamed of this moment. I had dreamed of seeing him brought low, of watching him feel the same helpless, suffocating despair he had inflicted on me when he banished me from my childhood home without a cent to my name.
Yet looking at him now, I didn't feel anger. I didn't even feel satisfaction.
All I felt was a profound, hollow pity.
"My mother’s sake is the only reason you're not in a federal prison cell tonight, Richard," I said quietly. "She wrote a codicil into the trust. If you ever faced complete insolvency, the estate would provide you with a modest monthly stipend—minimum wage equivalent—and a single-room apartment in upstate New York. Far away from this city. Far away from the world you stole."
Richard blinked, stunned. "Minimum wage? A single room? Ethan, I was the CEO of—"
"You were an imposter," I cut him off. "Take the apartment, or take your chances on the street. That is the only mercy you will ever receive from me."
I turned and stepped into the back of the waiting sedan.
May you like
As the car pulled out of the courtyard, I looked out the tinted window. Richard remained on his knees in the pouring rain, watching the red taillights disappear into the night.
***
