Chapter 6 - The Dinner of Hypocrites
Two weeks later, Sarah Jenkins received an official request from Evelyn Sterling’s personal legal team. They wanted to schedule an in-person mediation dinner at a private room in the exclusive Le Bernardin in Manhattan.
"They are desperate," Sarah told me over the phone. "Evelyn is offering to sign over Julian’s parental rights, agree to your sole custody demand, and publicly apologize to you, if you agree to sell them the easement at market value."
I laughed softly. "An apology from Evelyn Sterling? That must have physically pained her to write. Let’s do it. But on my terms. I choose the menu, and I control the room."
The night of the dinner, I arrived wearing a stunning emerald-green velvet maternity gown that draped elegantly over my seven-month bump. I wore my grandfather’s vintage diamond tennis bracelet—a subtle reminder of the legacy they had dismissed.
When I entered the private dining room, Evelyn and Julian were already seated. Julian looked anxious, while Evelyn sat rigid, her face mask of aristocratic composure barely hiding her sheer terror.
As I sat down, Evelyn forced a tight, artificial smile. "Clara. You look... radiant. Pregnancy clearly suits you."
"Save the pleasantries, Evelyn," I said, placing my Chanel clutch on the table. "We are not friends, and we are certainly not family. Let’s get straight to the point."
Julian leaned forward, his hands shaking. "Clara, please. We want to make this right. I’ve realized how terribly we treated you. I was weak, and I am so sorry. We want to be a part of our child’s life, but we also need to save our family business. If you sell us the easement, we can establish a trust fund for the baby—"
"My child does not need a Sterling trust fund," I interrupted, my voice dripping with disdain. "My child already has a multi-million dollar inheritance. As for parental rights, Julian, you will sign them over completely. You will have no visitation, no contact, and your name will not even be on the birth certificate. That is non-negotiable."
Julian winced as if struck, but Evelyn quickly intervened. "Fine. If that is what you want, Clara. We will agree to sole custody and Julian relinquishing his rights. But we need the easement. We will pay you $1.5 million for it. That is three times what it’s worth!"
I leaned back, looking at Evelyn with a look of pure pity. "You still don't get it, do you? You think everything can be bought and sold. You thought you could buy my silence for fifty thousand, and now you think you can buy your survival for one point five million."
"What do you want then?!" Evelyn snapped, her composure cracking. "Name your price, you ungrateful little—"
"Mother, stop!" Julian yelled, pulling her back.
I smiled, completely unbothered by her outburst. "The price, Evelyn, is the Sterling Group itself."
Evelyn gasped. "What?!"
"I don't want your money," I explained calmly. "I want your company. Pendelton Holdings has just purchased 40% of the outstanding debt of Sterling Development from your primary creditors. You are in default on your loans because of the project delays. By next Monday, I will initiate a hostile takeover. I will absorb Sterling Development into Pendelton Holdings. You will be stripped of your titles, your board seats, and your shares."
"You can't do this!" Evelyn shrieked, standing up so fast her chair scraped loudly against the floor. "This is our family legacy! My grandfather built that company!"
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"And your arrogance destroyed it," I replied, standing up to join her. I looked her dead in the eye, my voice quiet but utterly commanding. "You threw my clothes on the lawn, Evelyn. You called me a penniless nobody. Now, you are going to watch that 'nobody' buy your life's work for pennies on the dollar. Goodnight."
I turned and walked out of the room, leaving the mother and son to drown in the ruin of their own making.
