Chapter 9 - The Fall of the House of Sterling
The lobby of the Majestic Sovereign was a circus of flashing cameras and screaming reporters.
Richard Sterling was dragged out of the elevators in handcuffs, his face hidden behind a jacket. The titan of industry was reduced to a weeping, broken old man.
Victoria followed closely behind, carrying a single designer bag. Her trust funds had been frozen. Her credit cards were declined. She was completely, utterly destitute.
As the police shoved Richard into the back of a squad car, Victoria turned back toward the hotel entrance.
Clara stood on the marble steps, looking down at her. She wore a flawless ivory trench coat, the undisputed queen of the estate.
Victoria looked at Clara, her eyes burning with hatred and humiliation. She opened her mouth to speak, to hurl one last insult, but nothing came out. The reality of her situation crushed her vocal cords. She was nothing.
Clara didn't gloat. She didn't pour wine on Victoria. She simply turned her back on the broken heiress and walked through the golden doors of her hotel. The ultimate victory was complete indifference.
Inside the lobby, the staff—the very people Clara used to work alongside—stood in a neat line. The floor manager who used to bark orders at her stepped forward, trembling, and offered a deep bow.
"Welcome back, Ms. Vanguard," he said respectfully.
May you like
Clara smiled warmly at them. "Thank you. And effective immediately, every staff member receives a fifty percent raise, full health benefits, and a strict anti-harassment policy."
The staff erupted into cheers and tears. Clara had not just taken the throne; she had liberated the kingdom.
