Chapter 10 - The Fall of Beatrice
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While Ethan was being kicked out of the corporate tower, Beatrice was experiencing her own public execution.
She had attempted to enter the grand clubhouse of the Manhattan Heritage Club—the most elite socialite organization in the city, where she had spent years bragging about her family’s prestige.
As she walked up the carpeted steps in her wrinkled clothes, the head concierge stepped directly into her path.
“I’m sorry, Mrs. Vale,” the concierge said loudly enough for several prominent socialites in the lobby to hear. “Your membership has been indefinitely revoked.”
Beatrice gasped, adjusting her dark sunglasses. “Revoked?! Do you know who I am? My son is Ethan Vale!”
“We know who your son is, Mrs. Vale,” the concierge replied with quiet satisfaction. “And we know who your former daughter-in-law is. Mrs. Victoria Sterling has requested that your presence be barred from all affiliated properties.”
Several women in pearls and designer dresses turned toward Beatrice, whispering behind their gloved hands and chuckling softly.
“Look at her... isn't that the woman from the audio recording?” one socialite whispered loudly.
“Disgusting. Encouraging her son to beat that poor girl,” another added, shaking her head.
Beatrice’s face burned with deep, unbearable shame. She turned and fled down the steps, hailing a cab in total humiliation.
Desperate, she took a taxi straight to my private estate on Fifth Avenue.
She fell onto her knees before the iron gates, sobbing uncontrollably into the intercom camera.
“Victoria! Victoria, please open the gate!” Beatrice wept, her hands clutching the iron bars. “It was Ethan! He forced me to say those terrible things! I always loved you like a daughter! Please don't take my home away! Don't let them arrest my son!”
I stood on the second-floor balcony, holding a warm cup of coffee—the expensive, imported brand Ethan had thrown a tantrum over.
I pressed the intercom button.
“You watched him strike me, Beatrice,” my voice echoed through the gate speakers. “You laughed while I bled on your kitchen floor.”
“I was scared of him!” Beatrice lied frantically. “He threatened me too!”
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“You reaped the benefits of his cruelty for three years,” I replied calmly. “Now you get to share his fate.”
I cut the intercom connection and turned back inside, leaving her crying in the street.
