"Her Parents Kicked Her Out for Getting Pregnant at 19, But 10 Years Later She Came Back With Her Son, and One Sentence Destroyed the Entire Family

The gala descended into absolute pandemonium.

Camera flashes exploded like strobe lights, capturing Elias Thorne as he stumbled backward away from the podium, his arrogant facade completely shattered. The Mayor backed away from him as if he were contagious.

Thorne didn't try to defend himself. He knew he was caught. He turned and bolted toward the stage exit, shoving a waiter aside.

"He's running!" someone shouted.

Arthur didn't wait. He moved with a speed that defied his age, sprinting down the side aisle and bursting through the kitchen doors right behind Thorne.

Clara followed closely behind, adrenaline pumping through her veins.

They burst out into the back alley behind the hotel just as Thorne was fumbling with his keys, trying to unlock his black SUV.

"Elias!" Arthur roared.

Thorne spun around. In a desperate, panicked move, he reached inside his jacket and pulled out a silver revolver.

Clara screamed, freezing in her tracks.

But Arthur didn't stop. He charged forward like a freight train, ignoring the gun. Thorne fired a shot, but his hand was shaking so violently that the bullet shattered the brick wall two feet to Arthur's left.

Before Thorne could pull the trigger again, Arthur slammed into him. The impact lifted Thorne off his feet, driving him brutally into the side of the SUV. The gun clattered to the wet pavement.

Arthur grabbed Thorne by the lapels of his expensive suit, hauling him up against the shattered glass of the car window.

"You took my boy," Arthur snarled, his fist raised, shaking with decades of repressed rage. "You took him, and you let me blame my daughter for ten years."

Thorne whimpered, raising his hands in surrender, looking small, pathetic, and utterly defeated. "Arthur, please. I have money. I can make you rich."

Arthur stared at the sniveling billionaire. He lowered his fist.

"Your money is poisoned, Elias," Arthur spat in disgust, dropping Thorne to the ground like a bag of garbage. "And you're going to spend the rest of your pathetic life in a concrete box."

The blare of police sirens filled the alleyway. The FBI, tipped off by Mark earlier that evening, swarmed the parking lot. Agents poured out of black sedans, throwing Elias Thorne to the ground and aggressively snapping handcuffs onto his wrists.