Chapter 2 - The Architect of Greed
Across town,
in a penthouse that smelled of expensive leather and desperation,
Calvin stared at his reflection in the glass.
He adjusted his silk tie,
the one Tabitha had bought him to celebrate their "imminent" victory.
"She looked pathetic,
Calvin,"
Tabitha said,
reclining on a velvet sofa with a glass of champagne in her hand.
"She was literally covered in dirt,
clipping those hideous roses like a peasant."
Calvin didn't smile;
he felt a nagging sense of unease that he couldn't quite name.
Everett had been a man of immense foresight,
a man who built an empire from nothing but grit and roses.
"Did she say anything about the will?"
Calvin asked,
his voice low and gravelly.
"Just the usual nonsense about legacy and her father's house,"
Tabitha scoffed,
waving her hand dismissively.
"She has no idea that Kyle has already secured the majority of the liquid assets."
Kyle sat in the corner,
nursing a drink,
his eyes avoiding his sister's memory.
He had justified his betrayal as a matter of survival,
believing that Paige had always been the favorite.
"He was senile at the end,
Calvin,"
Kyle muttered,
repeating the lie he had told himself so many times it almost felt like the truth.
"He didn't know what he was signing when I brought him those amendments."
"He trusted me,"
Kyle added,
a hint of regret flickering in his voice before being extinguished by greed.
Tabitha laughed,
a sharp,
metallic sound that grated on Calvin's nerves.
"Trust is for the poor,
Kyle,"
she said,
standing up to refill her glass.
"Tomorrow,
we take the house,
we sell the land,
and we turn that garden into a parking lot for the new development."
She didn't tell them about her encounter in the garden,
how she had mentioned Everett's "state of mind" to Paige.
She didn't think it mattered;
she thought Paige was a broken woman with no fight left in her.
But Tabitha's arrogance was her greatest blind spot,
a flaw that Everett had seen long before he took his final breath.
In the penthouse,
they toasted to a future built on the ruins of a daughter's heart.
They planned the renovations,
the parties,
and the high-end life they thought they had earned.
They spoke of Paige as if she were a ghost,
a shadow that would soon be evicted from their perfect world.
But ghosts have a way of haunting the living,
especially when they are armed with the truth.
Calvin looked out at the city lights,
feeling the weight of his own lies.
He had traded a fifteen-year marriage for a woman who valued only the price tag of his suit.
He had traded a father figure for a stack of legal documents.
And deep down,
in a place he refused to acknowledge,
he knew the white roses were still blooming.
The damp soil of the garden was still holding the secrets of the past.
And the girl with the shears was no longer trimming branches;
she was preparing for the harvest.
The clock on the wall ticked toward the morning,
counting down the minutes until their house of cards would meet the wind.
They were so sure of their triumph,
so blinded by their own reflected glory,
that they never saw the storm coming.
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The architect of greed had built a masterpiece,
but the foundation was made of sand and betrayal.
