Chapter 7 - Facing Patricia
Two weeks later, the divorce proceedings moved at lightning speed. My father retained one of the top family law attorneys in the state—a brilliant woman named Sarah Jenkins who had worked on Apex Global's corporate legal team for over a decade. With Sarah handling the paperwork, Ryan had no legal ground to contest anything. Under the terms of the settlement, I walked away with complete financial independence, severing all legal and personal ties to the Sterling family.
The day I went to the courthouse to sign the final decrees, I saw Patricia in the hallway.
She was sitting on a cold wooden bench outside the bankruptcy courtroom, waiting for Richard's preliminary hearing. The contrast between the woman I had seen at the luxury steakhouse and the woman sitting before me was staggering. She wasn't wearing her designer jewels or her tailored Italian blazer. She wore an oversized polyester sweater she had clearly bought at a clearance outlet, her hair pulled back into an unkempt bun, and her expensive leather handbag had been replaced by a cheap nylon tote.
When she saw me walking down the corridor alongside my father and Sarah Jenkins, she shot up from the bench, her eyes wild with fury.
""You!"" she snarled, hobbling toward us in worn-out flats. ""You vindictive little monsters! Look at what you've done to my family! Richard is going to prison! We lost our home! We had to sell our cars at auction for pennies on the dollar! All because of your fragile, pathetic little pride!""
My father stepped smoothly between Patricia and me, his presence solid and unshakeable.
""Patricia,"" Dad said quietly, his voice carrying the effortless authority of a man who held all the cards. ""You didn't lose your home because of my pride. You lost your home because your husband committed federal fraud to fund your vanity.""
""You set us up!"" she screamed, drawing the attention of two armed bailiffs at the end of the hall. ""You knew Richard was struggling! You could have bailed us out! You're a billionaire living like a common ditch digger! You hoarded all that wealth just to watch us starve!""
""I spent fifteen years covering Richard's mistakes because I respected his father,"" Dad replied, looking down at her with absolute pity. ""I gave your family every opportunity to build something honest and lasting. But you didn't want an honest business. You wanted a stage to parade your arrogance. You looked down on everyone around you, thinking your money made you superior. But when the curtain fell, you realized you never owned the stage at all. You were just an actor borrowing someone else's costume.""
Patricia shook with rage, but she had no words left to defend herself. The truth was too undeniable, too brutal.
""Ma'am, keep your voice down or step outside,"" one of the bailiffs warned, resting his hand on his duty belt as he approached our group.
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Patricia shrank back onto the wooden bench, pulling her cheap sweater tightly around her thin shoulders. For the first time in her life, she had no status to hide behind, no elite club to run to, and no one to rescue her from the consequences of her cruelty.
I looked at her one last time, feeling neither anger nor hatred. All I felt was a clean, liberating indifference. I turned my back on her and walked down the courthouse steps into the bright morning sunshine, holding my father's arm.
