Chapter 7 - The Legacy Speaks
Arthur’s face turned from pale white to a deep, purple red. “This is a fake! A digital fabrication created by an unstable man who has been jealous of my leadership for two decades!” He pointed a shaking finger at me. “You have no proof of these absurd accusations!”
“He doesn't need to provide the proof, Arthur,” a clear, ringing voice spoke from the side of the stage.
Grace stepped out from behind the curtain. She wasn't wearing the server’s uniform anymore. She wore a stunning emerald-green evening gown, her chin held high, holding her father’s worn leather journal in her hands.
Arthur stared at her, his eyes bulging with confusion and sudden, paralyzing terror. “Who the hell are you?”
“My name is Grace Bennett,” she said, her voice carrying through the silent hall with majestic strength. “I am the daughter of David Bennett—the man you had murdered in an alley twenty years ago because he saved Henry Oseni’s life and found your tracking device.”
Arthur staggered back against the podium, his breathing ragged. “That’s… that’s impossible. David Bennett had no family…”
“You thought you erased us, didn't you?” Grace said, taking three slow steps toward him. “You thought when you left my mother without a husband and three infants without a father, we would simply starve and disappear into the dark. For twenty years, my mother cleaned houses until her lungs failed. For six months, I cleaned Henry’s house, taking home leftover food just to keep my brothers and sisters alive!”
She held the leather journal high above her head so every camera in the room could see it.
“My father wrote down everything, Arthur. Every threat. Every phone call from your security team. Every dollar you tried to offer him to keep quiet about Henry’s crash. His truth lived in this journal, and tonight, the world knows what you are.”
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The ballroom exploded into chaos. Photographers’ flashes erupted like lighting strikes. Reporters from the local news stations rushed the stage, shouting questions. The Swiss investors stood up, turning their backs on Arthur and marching toward the exit without speaking a single word.
Arthur looked around the room like a trapped animal. His eyes darted to the side doors, but standing in the entrance were four uniformed officers from the Atlanta Police Department Homicide Division, accompanied by the Assistant District Attorney.
