Chapter 6 - The Founder's Voice
The ballroom fell into an uneasy, reverent silence as the remaining guests stood watching me in stunned amazement.
Samuel turned to the assembly, his voice carrying the effortless authority of five decades of legal power.
"The gala is officially concluded for this evening. Miss Bennett will hold a press conference at ten o'clock tomorrow morning."
The guests filed out in hurried, hushed groups, eager to broadcast the most shocking scandal in Chicago's high-society history.
Within twenty minutes, the grand ballroom was empty except for Samuel, his legal team, and me.
Samuel walked over to the champagne table, picked up the small silver cassette recorder resting inside his briefcase, and pressed play.
A familiar, warm, gravelly voice filled the quiet room—the voice that used to read me bedtime stories in a modest brick cottage in Ohio.
"Evelyn, my brave girl," my grandfather’s recording began, carrying the gentle rhythm of his laughter.
"If you are listening to this, it means Nathaniel Ashford proved himself to be the hollow vessel his father was before him."
Tears finally welled in my eyes, spilling over my cheeks as I listened to the grandfather I had loved and missed for so long.
"I gave him four years to love you for your heart, not your bank account," Charles Bennett said.
"I built this empire not to buy fancy suits, but to protect you from the wolves of this world. Stand tall, Evelyn. The ground belongs to you."
Samuel shut off the recorder and handed me an antique gold key tied with a frayed blue ribbon.
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"This is the key to your grandfather's private archive on the top floor of the Bennett Tower, Miss Evelyn."
"He kept every receipt, every patent, and every deed safe for you until the day you were ready to claim your rightful place."
