Chapter 7 - Silver Bracelets
The flashing red and blue lights of the police cruisers painted the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Solmere Hotel lobby.
Word had spread like wildfire. The guests who had witnessed the brutal humiliation of the "homeless girl" just hours earlier were now gathered behind velvet ropes, whispering furiously as the FBI and local police swarmed the building.
The private elevator pinged. The doors slid open.
Out walked Richard Sterling, his hands cuffed tightly behind his back, flanked by two stern-faced federal agents. His expensive Italian suit looked suddenly oversized, his shoulders slumped in defeat. The arrogant king of the Solmere Empire had fallen.
Behind him came Victoria.
She wasn't walking; she was practically being dragged by a female officer. Victoria was sobbing hysterically, her designer dress wrinkled, her perfect makeup ruined by tracks of black mascara running down her cheeks.
“You can’t do this to me! I’m Victoria Sterling!” she screamed, fighting against the handcuffs. “My father is a billionaire! We will sue all of you! Get your hands off me!”
The crowd of elites in the lobby—the same people who had watched Victoria drag Charlotte across the floor—now watched her with a mixture of disgust and schadenfreude. Cell phone cameras flashed. The high-society fall from grace was happening live.
Then, the crowd fell completely silent.
Walking out of the elevator behind the arrested father-daughter duo was Charlotte Vale.
She looked immaculate. The black power suit, the crimson blouse, the red-soled heels clicking against the freshly cleaned marble floor. She walked with a regal, commanding presence, Elias Thorne a half-step behind her like a loyal, lethal shadow.
Victoria, noticing the silence, looked back. When she saw Charlotte looking down at her from the elevator bank, she completely lost her mind.
“You bitch!” Victoria shrieked, lunging forward before the officer yanked her back. “You ruined my life! This is all yours! You set me up!”
Charlotte stopped. She walked slowly toward Victoria, the crowd parting for her instinctively. She stopped just a foot away from the sobbing, broken socialite.
“I didn't set you up, Victoria,” Charlotte said smoothly, her voice echoing perfectly in the silent lobby. She looked down at the exact spot on the floor where she had bled just hours prior. “I merely took back what was mine. I believe you said earlier that 'people like me' don't belong in a place like this?”
Victoria sobbed, unable to formulate a sentence.
Charlotte smiled—a cold, terrifying smile. “You were right. I don't belong on the floor. I belong in the penthouse. Enjoy your new accommodations. I hear federal prison lacks room service.”
May you like
Charlotte turned her back on them without another word, walking toward the grand entrance as the officers hauled the Sterlings out to the waiting squad cars. The flashes of paparazzi cameras from the street illuminated the lobby like lightning.
The true heir had returned.
