Chapter 10 - A Ghost from the Past
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The transition wasn't without friction.
Certain board members of Vance Technologies grumbled about the Foundation’s new direction.
They felt it was too political, too messy.
Clara ignored them.
She was sitting in her office late on a Thursday evening, reviewing Sarah Lin’s first quarterly report.
The numbers were staggering.
In three months, the clinic had provided legal counsel to over four hundred individuals.
Her intercom buzzed.
“Ms. Vance,” Maya said, her voice unusually hesitant.
“Yes, Maya?”
“There is a woman in the lobby requesting a moment of your time. She doesn't have an appointment.”
“Who is it?”
“She said her name is Beatrice Thorne.”
Clara froze.
Beatrice Thorne.
Julian’s mother.
Clara hadn't spoken to the woman since the divorce.
Beatrice had always viewed Clara with barely concealed disdain, believing her son had married beneath his potential, despite Clara's family wealth.
“Send her up,” Clara said, her voice betraying nothing.
Ten minutes later, the heavy oak doors opened.
Beatrice looked older.
The sharp, arrogant posture she once carried had softened into something resembling exhaustion.
“Clara,” Beatrice said, stepping into the office.
“Beatrice. Please, sit.”
Beatrice sat in the chair opposite Clara’s desk.
She clutched her handbag tightly.
“I won't take much of your time,” Beatrice began.
“What can I do for you?”
Beatrice looked down at her hands.
“I came to apologize.”
Clara remained silent.
“I blamed you for Julian’s downfall,” Beatrice admitted, her voice trembling slightly. “I told my friends you had orchestrated a coup to steal his position.”
“I know.”
Beatrice looked up, surprised.
“I knew what was being said, Beatrice. I simply chose not to engage with it.”
“I was angry,” Beatrice explained. “He was my son. I wanted to protect him.”
“Protection is not the same as enabling,” Clara observed quietly.
Beatrice nodded slowly.
“I understand that now. Julian... he has changed.”
“I am glad to hear it.”
“He told me everything. About Sienna. About the embezzlement. About what he did to you that night.”
Tears welled in Beatrice’s eyes.
“I raised him to believe that failure was unacceptable. I think I made him terrified of losing.”
Clara felt a unexpected pang of sympathy.
“We are all responsible for the adults we become, Beatrice.”
“I know. But I wanted you to know that I was wrong about you.”
Beatrice stood up.
“You are a formidable woman, Clara.”
“Thank you.”
Beatrice hesitated at the door.
“I hope you find peace.”
May you like
“I already have,” Clara replied.
And she meant it.
