Chapter 8 - Cutting the Poison
Lydia looked up, her expression morphing from fake remorse into ugly, desperate rage. “So that’s it? You’re just going to watch your own sister lose everything? You selfish, arrogant little brat! After our parents died, I was the one who looked out for you! I put a roof over your head when you were broke!”
“You didn't put a roof over my head out of love,” I countered, my voice hardening. “You did it so you could feel superior. You did it so you could have a free servant to clean up after you while you played high-society businesswoman with borrowed money.”
I turned to the head of security. “Please escort Ms. Ellis off the property. She is trespassing.”
“Maya! No! Don't you dare walk away from me!” Lydia shrieked, struggling against the two guards as they hoisted her to her feet and began marching her firmly toward the revolving doors. “You owe me! I will sue you! I will drag your name through every tabloid in Illinois! You will regret this!”
Her shrill screams faded as the heavy glass doors closed behind her, cutting off the noise completely. The lobby returned to its calm, dignified murmur. The hotel guests returned to their conversations, having witnessed the absolute collapse of a bully.
Nathaniel turned to me, studying my face with quiet concern. “Are you alright?”
“Better than I’ve ever been,” I replied, letting out a long, liberating sigh.
Cutting Lydia out of my life didn't feel like revenge. It felt like an amputation of dead tissue. For years, I had allowed her guilt-tripping and emotional manipulation to dictate my self-worth. Standing up to her wasn't about cruelty; it was about drawing a line in the sand and declaring that I would never allow anyone to diminish my dignity again.
Later that afternoon, Nathaniel and I sat in his private glass office overlooking the river. A bottle of vintage champagne sat on ice beside two crystal flutes.
“My legal team informed me that Lydia’s retail enterprise is beyond saving,” Nathaniel mentioned casually as he poured two glasses. “Her debts were three times higher than her reported assets. She had been falsifying inventory records for eighteen months to qualify for commercial credit lines. Even without Mrs. Kensington canceling her accounts, the house of cards was bound to collapse within the quarter.”
“What will happen to her?” I asked.
“Her commercial properties will be liquidated at auction,” Nathaniel replied, handing me a glass of champagne. “She will lose the boutique shops and likely have to downsize into a modest rental apartment. But she won't go to prison unless the bank presses charges for fraud, which is unlikely if she cooperates with the liquidation.”
I took a sip of the crisp, golden champagne. It tasted like triumph and closure.
“You don't feel guilty, do you?” Nathaniel asked softly, his slate-gray eyes searching mine.
May you like
“Not for a single second,” I said firmly. “I spent my entire life trying to earn love from someone who only saw me as a tool to be used. I’m done living for people who want to keep me in the dark.”
Nathaniel raised his glass, clinking it against mine with a resonant, crystal ping. “To stepping into the light, Maya. And never looking back.”
