Chapter 6 - The Confrontation on the Street
By the time we got down to the lobby, the building's security team had already escorted Victor out onto the sidewalk of 17th Street.
It was a gray, rainy afternoon, and the corporate crowd was rushing past, heads down under umbrellas. Victor stood in the middle of the pavement, his expensive suit soaked through, his tie undone, looking like a man who had survived a shipwreck.
When he saw me and my father exit the glass doors, he broke past the security guards, his hands held out.
"Clara! Richard!" he yelled, his voice carrying over the sound of the traffic. "You have to stop this! They’re taking the office! The movers are in my lobby right now! They’re locking the doors!"
"Step back, Victor," my father’s security guard, Marcus, said, stepping between him and us, his massive frame blocking Victor’s path.
"Clara, please!" Victor cried, tears mixing with the rain on his face. "I'm sorry! I shouldn't have hit him! I was stressed! The firm was failing, and I was trying to keep us afloat! I love Ethan! You know I love him!"
I stepped out from behind Marcus. I looked at the man I had spent ten years of my life with, the man I had once believed was my partner, my protector. All I felt was a profound, empty pity.
"You don't love Ethan, Victor," I said, my voice quiet but carrying clearly through the damp air. "You loved the idea of having a son who would look up to you, but you treated him like an acquisition. You spent fifteen hundred dollars on an iPad for Liam to show your brother how successful you were, while you couldn't even buy a cake for your own child."
"It was a mistake!" he sobbed, his hands shaking. "I'll buy him a cake! I'll buy him ten cakes! Just tell your father to put the money back! If he doesn't, the firm is bankrupt! I'll have nothing!"
"You already have nothing, Victor," my father said, stepping forward. His voice was cold, flat, and completely devoid of mercy. "The day you raised your hand to my grandson, you ceased to exist in our world. You are a bad investment, Victor. And in my business, we cut our losses quickly."
"Richard, please! We're family!" Victor screamed, dropping to his knees on the wet concrete. "You can't do this to me!"
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"We were never family, Victor," my father said. "You were just a passenger on our ship. Now, get off my sidewalk before I have you arrested for harassment."
My father turned and walked toward the waiting town car. I looked at Victor one last time—the man who had thought he was a king, now kneeling in the rain, surrounded by the ruins of his own arrogance—and then I turned my back on him for the final time.
