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101 Chapter 104
Chapter 104 – A Stepmother’s Debt, A Daughter’s Design
I caught Eleanor’s wrist before her bracelet could connect with my face, my reflexes surprising even me.
“That’s enough,” I said, my voice deadly calm. “You’ve already assaulted one of my employees today.”
Eleanor yanked her arm away, her face contorted with rage and something else- desperation, I realized. Her designer blouse was wrinkled, her makeup slightly smudged. The elegant facade she’d maintained for years was crumbling before my
eyes.
“You ruined everything!” she hissed. “My life is falling apart because of you!”
I stepped back, maintaining a safe distance between us. “Your life is falling apart because Harrison committed crimes and got caught. That’s not my doing.”
“You planned it all! Getting close to that Sterling man, using his influence to destroy
us!”
I almost laughed at the irony. Eleanor had spent years treating me like an unwelcome intruder in my own home, and now here she was, the intruder in my company.
“Why are you really here, Eleanor? You didn’t come just to throw accusations and assault my staff.”
Her shoulders sagged slightly, the fight visibly draining from her. For the first time, I noticed the dark circles under her eyes, the fine lines that hadn’t been there before
Harrison’s arrest.
“Ethan is in trouble,” she finally admitted, her voice smaller. “He was driving drunk last night and hit someone’s car. They’re pressing charges unless we pay compensation.”
Of course. It always came down to money with this family.
“And you thought coming here and attacking my employees would make me want to help you?” I raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t-” she began, then stopped. “Mr. Vance wouldn’t let me see you. He said you
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were busy.”
“So you hit him with your bracelet.”
She looked away, not denying it. “I need fifty thousand dollars, Hazel. Ethan could go to jail.”
Like father, like son. The apple certainly hadn’t fallen far from the tree.
“And why should I care?” I asked coldly. “Ethan has never shown me a moment’s kindness. Neither have you, for that matter.”
“He’s your brother!” Eleanor pleaded.
“Half–brother,” I corrected. “And that didn’t seem to matter when you were encouraging him to bully me.”
Tears welled in Eleanor’s eyes. I’d never seen her cry before–at least, not genuinely. She’d always been the master of the strategic teardrops at dinner parties or when Harrison questioned her spending.
“Please,” she whispered. “I have nowhere else to go. The accounts are frozen. My friends won’t take my calls anymore. No one will help us.”
A part of me—a small, vindictive part–wanted to savor this moment. The mighty Eleanor Ashworth, reduced to begging the stepdaughter she’d tormented for years. But another part of me, the part that had survived their cruelty by being better than them, felt nothing but pity.
“I’ll make you a deal,” I said after a long moment.
Hope flickered in her eyes. “Anything.”
“I’ll loan you the fifty thousand.”
Her body sagged with relief. “Thank you, Hazel. I knew you’d—”
“I’m not finished,” I interrupted. “This is a loan, not a gift. You’ll work here, as a cleaner, until you’ve paid off every cent.”
The color drained from Eleanor’s face. “Work… as a cleaner? But I’m-”
“You’re what?” I challenged. “Too good for honest work? Your husband is in jail, your accounts are frozen, and your son is about to follow his father behind bars unless you
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can pay fifty thousand dollars. Your options are limited.”
“People will see me,” she whispered, horrified. “People I know.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “They will. And you’ll smile and clean around them, just like me serve your friends at dinner parties when I was a teenager.”
you made
A flash of recognition crossed her face–memory of all the small cruelties she’d inflicted over the years.
“You’re enjoying this,” she accused.
“I’m offering you a solution,” I countered. “One that benefits us both. You get the money to keep Ethan out of jail, and I get the satisfaction of watching you work for once in your life.”
Eleanor’s lips pressed into a thin line, her internal struggle playing across her face. Pride versus necessity. In the end, necessity won.
“Fine,” she bit out. “I’ll do it.”
“Good. I’ll have the paperwork drawn up immediately. You’ll sign a contract agreeing to the terms.”
“When do I get the money?”
“After you sign,” I said firmly. “And after you apologize to Mr. Vance. In front of my
entire staff.”
Her face flushed with humiliation. “That’s excessive.”
“That’s non–negotiable. You assaulted him, Eleanor. I could press charges myself.”
The threat hung in the air between us. Finally, she nodded stiffly.
“I’ll get the contract ready,” I said. “Wait here.”
I left the meeting room, instructing Todd to stay by the door, and headed to my office where I found Mr. Vance holding an ice pack to his forehead. A nasty gash marred his temple, blood crusted around the edges.
“Mr. Vance,” I gasped. “You need stitches.”
He tried to smile but winced instead. “It’s not as bad as it looks, Ms. Ashworth.”
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“It looks terrible,” I said honestly. “I’m so sorry this happened. I’ll drive you to the hospital myself.”
“What about your stepmother?”
“She’s not going anywhere,” I assured him. “And she’ll be making a public apology to you when we return.”
Curiosity sparked in his eyes. “Oh?”
“I’ll explain on the way. Can you walk?”
Twenty minutes later, we sat in the hospital waiting room. I’d explained my
arrangement with Eleanor, and to my surprise, Mr. Vance had laughed–wincing again in the process.
“That’s poetic justice if I’ve ever heard it,” he said. “The infamous Eleanor Ashworth, cleaning toilets at the company her stepdaughter built.”
“You know about her?” I asked, surprised.
“Ms. Ashworth, everyone in the fashion industry knows about your family drama. Your father stealing your maternal grandparents‘ business was big news back in the day, and Eleanor’s social climbing has been gossiped about for years.”
I stared at him, stunned. “I had no idea people knew.”
“People always know more than you think,” he said wisely. “They just don’t always say it to your face.”
“Mr. Vance,” the nurse called, and we stood.
As they cleaned and stitched his wound, I sat beside him, feeling responsible despite not having caused the injury.
“I’ll cover all your medical expenses,” I insisted. “And you’ll get paid leave until you’re fully recovered.”
Mr. Vance shook his head slightly. “That’s generous, but unnecessary. Your stepmother should be the one paying for this.”
A light bulb went off in my head. “You’re absolutely right.”
“I am?”
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“Yes. In fact…” I leaned closer, outlining my revised plan. By the time the doctor finished the stitches, Mr. Vance was smiling despite his injury.
“You’re quite the strategist, Ms. Ashworth,” he commented as we walked toward the exit. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen this side of you before.”
“I’ve had to become one,” I admitted. “Life has taught me that sometimes you need to be three steps ahead of people who mean you harm.”
“Well, I’m glad to be on your side of the chessboard,” he said as we pushed through the hospital doors into the parking lot.
I laughed, feeling lighter than I had in days, when suddenly I froze. There, standing next to a sleek black car just a few spaces away from mine, was a familiar face–one I absolutely hadn’t expected to see here.
Our eyes met across the pavement, and my carefully laid plans suddenly felt like they might unravel with this unexpected complication.
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