Chapter 8 - The Ruin of the Ashfords
The silence in the grand pavilion was absolute. No one moved. No security guard dared draw a weapon. The investors stood frozen, watching the titan of the Ashford dynasty dangling like a ragdoll in the grip of the underworld king.
Lucian released Julian, letting him collapse into the melted ice and broken glass on the floor.
Julian gasped for air, clutching his bruised throat, looking up at Lucian with eyes wide with primal, animalistic terror.
Camille fell to her knees beside her father, sobbing hysterically. Her pristine gown was soaked in melted ice and dirty water. "Please! Please, Mr. Vance, stop this! We’re sorry! We apologize!"
Lucian didn't look at them. He turned to Delaney.
"Delaney," Lucian said, his voice dropping into that calm, commanding cadence. "The decision is yours. Do we permit them to salvage their investments?"
Delaney stepped forward. The emerald gown rustled like wind through leaves. She looked down at Camille Ashford, who was kneeling in the puddle, shivering, mascara streaming down her pale cheeks in black streaks.
It was an exact mirror of the ballroom scene five nights ago.
Except now, Camille was on her knees. And Delaney stood tall, untouchable, flanked by power absolute.
Delaney looked at the shattered glass, then at Camille’s trembling hands.
"I won't ask you to kiss my shoes, Camille," Delaney said, her voice clear, resonant, and ringing with pure, unyielding grace. "Because unlike you, I don't need to degrade other human beings to feel significant."
She paused, letting the silence weigh down on the entire room.
"The contracts are canceled," Delaney announced to the room. "The North Harbor parcel will be converted into affordable community housing and public port facilities. Ashford Enterprises is banned from Vance docks permanently."
A cheer—tentative at first, then swelling from the junior staff, the servers, and the working-class marina workers lining the perimeter of the room—rippled through the hall.
Julian Ashford buried his face in his hands, weeping openly. The Ashford empire was finished. The banks would recall the notes by morning; the federal indictments would strip the remaining assets; and their names would be scrubbed from every building in the city.
Delaney turned back to Lucian.
"I’m ready to leave," she whispered.
Lucian offered his arm. His slate-gray eyes were ablaze with pure, unconditional pride.
May you like
"With pleasure, Miss Hart."
***