Chapter 5 - The Chairwoman’s Throne
Six months later,
the name "Sterling" had been scrubbed from every building in Miami.
Apex Holdings had absorbed the assets,
and I was overseeing the completion of the Brickell project.
I sat in my new office,
which overlooked the turquoise waters of the bay.
The floor-to-ceiling windows offered a view of a world that was entirely mine.
There was a knock on the door.
"Ms. Laura?"
my assistant said.
"There's a man downstairs asking to see you."
"He doesn't have an appointment,
but he says it's urgent."
I didn't need to ask who it was.
"Send him up,"
I said,
adjusting my glasses.
When Spencer walked in,
I almost didn't recognize him.
He had lost weight,
and his face was drawn.
He was wearing a cheap suit that didn't fit right.
He looked around the office,
his eyes wide with awe and regret.
"Laura,"
he said,
standing awkwardly in the center of the room.
"I...
I just wanted to say I'm sorry."
"I didn't know how much you were doing."
"I didn't know who you really were."
I leaned back in my chair,
folding my hands.
"You knew exactly who I was,
Spencer."
"You just chose to ignore it because it made you feel small."
"You wanted a woman you could control,"
"someone who would stay in the kitchen while you played king."
He looked down at his shoes.
"Penelope had the baby,"
he whispered.
"A boy."
"Her father won't let me see him."
"He says I'm a 'financial liability'."
"He's right,"
I said,
without a hint of emotion.
"Are you here for money,
Spencer?"
He hesitated,
then nodded slowly.
"The lawsuits...
they've taken everything."
"My mom is living in a studio apartment in a bad part of town."
"She’s...
she’s selling her jewelry to pay for groceries."
I felt a flicker of something,
but it wasn't sympathy.
It was the satisfaction of a debt finally paid in full.
"I won't give you a cent,"
I said,
my voice steady.
"But I will give you a job."
His eyes lit up with a desperate hope.
"Really?"
"Yes,"
I said,
handing him a business card.
"My cleaning contractor is looking for janitorial staff."
"The pay is minimum wage,"
"but it's honest work."
"You can start at the Coral Gables house."
"It’s being staged for sale next week."
The hope in his eyes died,
replaced by a burning humiliation.
"You want me to clean your floors?"
"I want you to understand what it’s like to build something from nothing,"
I replied.
"Something you never did."
He stood there for a long time,
the silence stretching between us.
Finally,
he took the card and walked out without another word.
I watched him leave,
and for the first time,
the weight of the past eight years was gone.
I didn't hate him anymore.
He wasn't worth the energy of hatred.
I turned back to my computer and opened a new file.
It was a proposal for a foundation to help women who had lost children.
I would fund it entirely myself.
I would call it the "Real Woman" Initiative.
Because being a real woman isn't about being young or pregnant.
It isn't about being well-educated or coming from a good family.
It’s about strength.
It’s about resilience.
It’s about knowing when to build a home,
and when to burn it down to the ground.
I smiled as I began to type.
The sun was setting,
painting the sky in shades of gold and purple.
The world was wide,
and I was finally ready to live in it.
The wedding in the garden was a lifetime ago.
And I was the only one who had survived the storm.
May you like
I was the Chairwoman.
And my empire was just beginning.
