Chapter 5 - The Lobby Beggars
Five minutes later, the private elevator opened directly into our penthouse foyer.
The four people who stepped out bore almost no resemblance to the arrogant aristocrats who had terrorized Harbor House twelve hours earlier.
Richard Mercer looked physically broken, his suit rumpled, his eyes bloodshot from lack of sleep. Thomas Caldwell was trembling, clutching a leather briefcase to his chest. Evan was staring at the floor, his arrogant swagger completely gone.
And Sloane... Sloane looked utterly destroyed. Her eyes were swollen from crying, her hair was unwashed, and she couldn't even bring herself to look me in the eye.
Daniel stood in the center of the grand living room, his arms folded across his chest, standing like an unyielding wall between them and me.
“You have three minutes,” Daniel said, his voice laced with cold ice. “State your business.”
Richard Mercer instantly dropped to his knees on the marble floor, joining his hands together in a desperate prayer.
“Mr. Bennett! Mrs. Bennett!” Richard sobbed, his voice cracking with emotion. “Please! We are begging for mercy! The banks have frozen our corporate accounts! Our board of directors held an emergency meeting two hours ago and voted to strip me of my CEO position! If Bennett Global doesn't issue a statement clarifying that negotiations are open, Caldwell Capital and Mercer Urban will file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy by Monday afternoon!”
Thomas Caldwell stepped forward, his voice shaking. “My family will lose everything, Grace! Our homes, our investments, our children’s trust funds—all of it will be seized by creditors! Please... show us grace!”
I sat comfortably on the sofa, looking at the two older men, then shifted my gaze to Sloane and Evan.
“You didn't care about grace last night, Thomas,” I said evenly. “When Evan threw a twenty-dollar bill into a puddle of Coke at my feet, did he consider whether I had dignity? When Sloane asked her forty-five thousand followers if employee health insurance covered my weight, did she care about my feelings?”
Evan stepped forward, his voice small and trembling. “Mrs. Bennett... I’m sorry. I was an idiot. I was just trying to impress Sloane. I didn't mean—!”
“You meant every word, Evan,” I interrupted, my voice dropping into a quiet authority that silenced him instantly. “You thought I was weak because I wore an apron. You thought I was powerless because I was serving your table. You believed that money gave you the right to stomp on another human being.”
Sloane wiped a fresh tear from her pale cheek, taking a step toward the sofa.
“Mrs. Bennett,” Sloane whispered, her voice barely audible. “I... I lost my social media accounts this morning. Sponsors canceled all my contracts. People are protesting outside my apartment building. My father... my father told me he’s cutting me off completely. I have nothing left.”
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I looked at Sloane, feeling a strange mix of pity and absolute disappointment.
“You have exact consequence of your own choices, Sloane,” I told her. “You built an entire career out of humiliating people for views. You just finally hit someone who had the power to make you pay the bill.”
