Chapter 8 - Echoes of the Past
Three weeks later, the ghosts of my past tried to make one final, pathetic appearance.
I was reviewing final interior material samples in my studio when my assistant buzzed through on the intercom, her voice tight with hesitation. "Victoria, there's... someone downstairs insisting on seeing you. He says he won't leave until you speak with him."
I didn't have to guess. Ten minutes later, a disheveled, hollow-eyed man was escorted into my private office by building security.
Ryan Carter looked like a ghost of the man who had once stood proudly beside me in high-end tuxedos. His suit was wrinkled, his hair unstyled, and the arrogant swagger that had defined him for years was completely gone, replaced by a desperate, twitchy desperation.
"Victoria," he choked out, taking a stumbling step toward my desk before the security guards grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stop. "Please... you have to listen to me. The federal prosecutors... they're offering twenty years if I don't cooperate. You can tell them it was a misunderstanding. You have influence with Moretti now—you can make this go away!"
I didn't stand up. I didn't raise my voice. I simply leaned back in my executive leather chair, folding my hands over the polished mahogany surface, and looked at the man who had once tried to destroy my life.
"Make what go away, Ryan?" I asked calmly. "The embezzlement? The forgery? The fact that you spent four years using me as a shield while you and my sister treated my life like a game?"
"We were engaged!" he pleaded, tears actually welling in his eyes. "We loved each other! Victoria, please, for the sake of everything we built—"
"You didn't build anything, Ryan," I interrupted, my tone as cold and sharp as surgical steel. "You rented space in my life and couldn't even pay the rent. Security, escort Mr. Carter out. If he ever steps foot in this building again, make sure the federal marshals are the ones waiting for him at the curb."
"You'll regret this!" Ryan screamed as the massive guards physically lifted him off the floor and dragged him backward toward the double doors. "Moretti is just using you! He chews people up and spits them out! You're nothing to him!"
The heavy oak doors slammed shut, cutting off his frantic shrieks.
The silence that followed was absolute. I let out a long, slow breath, closing my eyes for a single second to let the last remnants of bitterness wash completely out of my system. When I opened them again, Vincent was standing in the doorway connecting our private offices, his expression unreadable, watching me with quiet intensity.
"Did you doubt for even a second what you meant to me?" Vincent asked softly, walking slowly across the room until he stood beside my chair.
May you like
I looked up at him, the strength in his gaze anchoring my soul. "Never," I whispered, reaching out to take his hand. "Some people are built to destroy. But we were built to rule."
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