Chapter 7 - The Confrontation on the Mountain
Alexander took two hurried steps forward, dropping his coat onto the floor, his hands outstretched in desperate supplication. "Claire! Oh God, Claire! Look at you!"
"Stop right there, Alexander," Claire said, her voice soft, musical, and terrifyingly cold.
Alexander froze, looking at the invisible boundary she had drawn between them. "Claire, please... let me hold him. Just let me hold my boy. I’ve been through hell to find you."
"Your boy?" Claire tilted her head, a faint, mocking smile playing at the corners of her lips. "You didn't care about your boy when you packed your bags for Tahiti, Alexander. You told me not to expect many calls because you had 'important business.' Is champagne in Cannes considered important business now?"
Alexander’s face burned with agonizing shame. "I made a mistake, Claire! A horrible, disgusting, unforgivable mistake! Sophia was a distraction, a midlife crisis! I ended everything with her! She is in jail right now!"
"She is in jail because my uncle's forensic accountants uncovered your embezzled wire transfers, Alexander," Claire replied calmly. "You didn't end anything with her. Justice ended it for you."
"Claire, we can rebuild!" Alexander pleaded, falling to his knees on the cold marble floor, completely abandoning the arrogant persona he had projected for a decade. "I will give you full ownership of the Lake Forest mansion! I will step down from the board! We can live here in Switzerland, anywhere you want! Just sign the dismissal of the divorce!"
Alistair Vance stepped forward, his heavy silver-tipped cane hitting the floor with a sharp, resounding crack that made Alexander jump.
"You speak of rebuilding, young man," Alistair said, his voice deep, gravelly, and dripping with venom. "When you married my niece, her father gave you his blessings because he believed you were a gentleman of honor. Instead, you treated her like an unpaid servant who would wait in the shadows while you wallowed in the gutter with a streetwalker."
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"Lord Vance, please... this is between a husband and a wife!" Alexander cried out.
"There is no husband here," Alistair sneered. "There is only a deadbeat debtor who owes my financial syndicate six hundred million dollars."
