Chapter 7 - THE RECKONING
We didn't stay for the rest of the gala.
Ethan had made his point.
As we left the hotel,
my father was waiting by the exit.
He looked desperate,
his polished exterior completely shattered.
"Ethan!
Mr. Vale!"
he called out,
trying to push past the security guards.
Ethan stopped and looked at him.
"Yes,
Richard?"
"I... I didn't know,"
Richard stammered,
his hands trembling.
"If I had known who you were,
the wedding would have been—"
"Better?"
Ethan interrupted.
"Would you have treated Madison with respect?"
"Would you have stopped Savannah from mocking her?"
Richard looked down,
unable to answer.
"The deal is off,
Richard,"
Ethan said coldly.
"Vale International is pulling all funding from Whitaker Holdings."
"Effective immediately."
Richard gasped.
"That will ruin us!"
"You ruined yourself the moment you put a price tag on your daughter,"
Ethan replied.
He turned to me.
"Do you have anything to say to him,
Madison?"
I looked at the man who had raised me in a house of ice.
I thought about the box in the attic with my mother's pictures.
I thought about the years of silence.
"I hope the Caldwell money was worth it,"
I said quietly.
"Because it's all you have left."
We walked to the car,
leaving my father standing in the rain.
Inside the sedan,
the air was cool and smelled of expensive leather.
"That was hard,"
Ethan said,
looking at me with concern.
"It was necessary,"
I replied.
"What happens now?"
"Now,"
he said,
pulling me close to his side.
"We go home."
"To the apartment?"
I asked.
He smiled.
"We can keep the apartment if you like."
"I actually own the whole building."
"But I have a house in the hills that might be a bit more comfortable."
"Does it have sunlight?"
I asked.
He laughed,
a warm,
rich sound that filled the car.
"It has nothing but sunlight,
Madison."
As we drove through the city,
I saw the headlines already changing on the digital billboards.
The Bicycle Billionaire.
The Mystery Bride.
I didn't care about the labels.
I looked at the man beside me and realized that he had been right.
Poverty isn't romance.
May you like
But wealth isn't love.
Love is the man who rides a bike in the wind just to see if you'll hold on.
