CHAPTER 7: THE FATHER’S SINS
The silence in the executive office was suffocating. Victor looked at the man who had raised him. Richard Langley had always been a god in Victor's eyes. Untouchable. Flawless. A titan who moved markets with a single phone call. Now, he was just an old man staring at the ruins of his own arrogance.
“How could you?” Victor whispered, the betrayal tasting like ash in his mouth. “Arthur Carlisle was your friend. He was my godfather.” Richard gripped the edge of his desk, his knuckles turning white. “Don't you dare judge me, Victor,” Richard hissed, his voice venomous. “Everything you have—the cars, the trust fund, the VIP rooms, the tailored suits—it was all paid for by the decisions I made. Carlisle was weak. He wanted to return the pension funds. If he had spoken, we would have lost everything.”
“So you framed him for the embezzlement you committed.” “I protected our legacy!” “You built a house of cards on a dead man’s grave!” Victor screamed.
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The illusion was fully shattered. Victor realized that Elena’s coldness the night before wasn't cruelty. It was restraint. She had looked at the son of the man who killed her father, and she had simply handed him a mirror.
“Sir,” the legal counsel interrupted softly. “We have one option. Ms. Carlisle’s legal team reached out five minutes ago. She is offering a meeting. A settlement negotiation.” Richard’s eyes snapped up. A glimmer of desperate hope returned. “She wants to negotiate,” Richard muttered, straightening his tie. “Of course she does. Everyone has a price. She just wants a bigger payout.” Victor looked at his father with absolute disgust. “She doesn't want your money, Dad,” Victor said quietly. “She already has it. She wants your head.”
