Chapter 5 - A Mother's Plea
The estate gatehouse was a stone structure located at the entrance of our property, surrounded by oak trees and secure iron gates. Inside, the room was comfortable, furnished with leather couches and glass tables, monitored discreetly by security cameras.
When I entered, a woman in her early sixties was pacing nervously near the window. Eleanor Mercer was dressed elegantly, though her eyes were red and swollen from crying. She clutched a designer handbag tightly against her waist.
When she saw me, she immediately stepped forward, her hands raised in a pleading gesture.
"Mr. Vance! Please... thank you for seeing me!" she cried, her voice trembling.
"Mrs. Mercer," I said politely, gesturing for her to sit. I remained standing. "I assume you are here regarding your son."
"Yes!" she sobbed, sitting on the edge of the leather sofa. "Mr. Vance, I am begging you for mercy. What Julian did was terrible! It was cruel and foolish, and I haven't slept a wink since I saw that horrible video! I raised him better than that, I swear to you!"
"If you raised him better than that, Mrs. Mercer," I replied calmly, "then why did he feel comfortable revving an engine at a seven-year-old boy and laughing as he nearly killed him?"
Eleanor wiped her tears with a linen handkerchief. "He became arrogant, Mr. Vance. When he got that senior promotion at Apex, he changed. He started surrounding himself with people who praised his worst instincts. He thought he was untouchable. But he is still my son!"
"I am a father too, Mrs. Mercer," I reminded her softly. "Yesterday afternoon, I stood on a gravel shoulder while my child trembled in fear. I watched a man drive away after almost taking my son's life, showing less remorse than a person who accidentally bumps into someone on a sidewalk."
"I know! I know!" Eleanor wept. "And he is paying for it! He has lost his job, his career is ruined, his bank accounts are frozen, and the entire internet is vilifying him! Isn't that enough punishment? Must you press forward with the felony charges? Must you ruin him completely?"
I walked over to the window, looking out at the iron gates that kept our family safe.
"Mrs. Mercer," I said, turning back to face her. "Your son didn't lose his job because I was vengeful. He lost his job because he violated every moral and professional code of the company he worked for. He isn't facing criminal charges because I am powerful. He is facing them because he committed a severe crime against a child on a public street."
"He will go to prison!" she wailed. "A man like Julian won't survive state prison!"
"Then perhaps he will finally learn what my son learned yesterday," I said, my voice dropping to a serious tone. "He will learn that the world does not revolve around his comfort, and that actions have real, inescapable consequences."
"Is there nothing I can do?" she begged, looking up at me with desperate, tear-stained eyes. "No amount of financial restitution? No public apology?"
"An apology given to avoid prison is not remorse, Mrs. Mercer," I answered firmly. "It is self-preservation. Your son had a chance to apologize yesterday when he rolled down his window. He chose to say, 'You're lucky I even moved.' That was his true character."
Eleanor hung her head, her shoulders shaking violently as she realized that no amount of pleading would undo the damage her son had inflicted upon himself.
May you like
I walked to the door, opening it for her.
"I suggest you hire a good defense lawyer for his trial, Mrs. Mercer," I said gently. "Because the justice system will handle Julian now. My focus is where it should have been all along—on protecting my son."
