Chapter 7 - Blood and Retribution
"Get out," Christopher said.
"Christopher, listen to me—" Julian began, his voice cracking with desperation.
"You have five minutes to leave this property," Christopher stated, each word hammered out like iron. "Tomorrow morning at eight o’clock, you will resign from your position at Whitmore Enterprises. You will surrender all corporate shares, your company car, and your access credentials. If you fail to do so, the security footage of your assistant entering this wing last night will be delivered directly to the District Attorney's office along with a formal charge of framing, burglary, and extortion."
Julian’s eyes burned with hatred. All pretense of elegance fell away, exposing the rot underneath. "You think you’ve won? You think this broken little family can survive? You’re betting your entire empire on an old woman on death's door and a gutter rat who knows nothing about business! I built the European division, Christopher! Without me, your stock plunges ten percent by Friday!"
"Then let it plunge," Christopher said without blinking. "A company can be rebuilt. A family cannot. Get out."
Julian glared at Hannah with venomous spite before turning and sprinting down the corridor. Moments later, the roar of his engine echoed down the driveway as he tore through the estate gates.
Christopher turned to the two private investigators, who were standing frozen in terror. "Put the necklace on the desk and leave. If I ever see your faces in this county again, I will have your licenses revoked by sundown."
The men scrambled out of the room without uttering a single word.
The heavy silence returned, broken only by the sound of Hannah's ragged breathing. She was shaking from head to foot, the adrenaline draining from her body. She looked at Christopher, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
"You believed me," she whispered.
May you like
Christopher walked over to her. Without a word, he pulled his niece into a fierce, protective embrace. Hannah stiffened in surprise, having spent years relying entirely on herself, before her defenses shattered and she buried her face in his shoulder, sobbing years of accumulated pain into the wool of his coat.
"I didn't believe Clara when she needed me," Christopher murmured into her hair, his own eyes burning with tears. "I will never make that mistake again. You are a Whitmore, Hannah. And no one will ever make you feel like an intruder in your own home again."
