Chapter 4 - The Aftermath at the Drake
We didn't stay to watch the hotel staff use industrial solvents and razor blades to free Chloe from the chair.
As Martha and I walked through the grand lobby of The Drake, supported by Marco and our driver, Michael, the news had already spread through the hotel staff like wildfire. The wedding reception had completely collapsed within fifteen minutes of our departure. Guests left in droves, leaving behind untouched steaks, melting ice sculptures, and thousands of dollars in imported flowers.
When we reached our townhome in Lincoln Park, the silence of the house felt like a sanctuary.
I helped Martha take off her sky-blue dress, carefully placing the pearl brooch back into her jewelry box. Her hands were shaking slightly. She sat on the edge of our four-poster bed, staring down at her worn slippers.
"Thomas..." she whispered, her eyes brimming with fresh tears. "Where did we go wrong with him? We gave him everything. Private schools, trips to Europe, every opportunity..."
I sat beside her, wrapping my arm around her shoulder, letting her lean her head against my chest.
"We gave him opportunities, Martha," I said softly, kissing the top of her hair. "But we couldn't give him a heart. He chose to let arrogance and vanity poison his soul. That is on him, not you."
"He called me... beat-up old furniture," she choked out, a single sob breaking through her restraint. "I spent four weeks in physical therapy just so I could walk down that aisle without a cane, Thomas. I did it for him."
"I know, my sweet," I whispered, holding her tighter. "I know. But he will never hurt you again. I promise you that on my life."
At 11:00 PM, my phone began ringing incessantly.
First came twelve missed calls from Harrison. Then five frantic text messages from Chloe. Then three calls from Evelyn Sterling, threatening legal action for "public defamation and emotional distress."
I didn't answer a single one. Instead, I placed my phone on silent, walked down to my home study, and dialed my chief legal counsel, Arthur Vance.
"Thomas," Arthur answered on the second ring, his voice weary but sharp. "I heard what happened at The Drake. Word travels fast in the Loop."
"Is the trust paperwork ready, Arthur?" I asked, looking out the window at the quiet, tree-lined street below.
"It's drawn up and ready for your signature," Arthur confirmed. "The revocation of Harrison’s primary beneficiary status on the Gallagher Family Trust. The freeze on his emergency credit cards. The repossession notices for the condo and the car. If you sign these tomorrow morning at 9:00 AM, he will be completely severed from your estate."
"Good," I said. "And prepare a cease-and-desist order for the Sterling family. If Evelyn or Chloe so much as sends a letter to Martha, I want restraining orders filed in Cook County Circuit Court before noon."
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"Consider it done, Thomas," Arthur said quietly. "How is Martha holding up?"
"Her heart is broken, Arthur," I replied, feeling a lump rise in my throat. "But her body is safe. And as long as I'm breathing, that's all that matters."
