Chapter 5 - The Shadow of St. Anne’sEvelyn Marsh swallowed hard, her eyes darting nervously between the billionaire’s stern face and the envelope in his hand. "He... he’s part of the new maintenance crew, sir. Hired about three weeks ago through the agency."
"Tell me everything you know about him," Arthur demanded, stepping forward, his cane tapping sharply against the polished hardwood floor. "His background, his family, his financial situation. Everything."
Evelyn hesitated, sensing the dangerous shift in the old man's demeanor. "Well, sir... he’s a good worker. Never complains, works double shifts whenever we need him. But life hasn't been kind to him. His wife passed away two years ago at St. Anne’s Hospital during childbirth. The baby didn't make it either. He’s been drowning in medical debt ever since, trying to raise his little boy, Theo, all by himself."
Arthur’s breath hitched. The name of the hospital hit him like a physical blow. St. Anne’s.
"St. Anne’s," Arthur repeated, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper. "The maternity ward negligence case from two years ago. The one my legal team settled out of court to protect the hospital's board of directors."
Evelyn blinked in surprise, not knowing the deep, dark secrets of her employer's corporate empire. "I... I don't know the legal details, Mr. Pembroke. All I know is that Samuel was left with thousands of dollars in bills he couldn't pay. The bank is foreclosing on his small apartment at the end of this month. That’s why he begged me to bring Theo here today. He has nowhere else to go."
Arthur turned away from her, walking slowly toward the towering glass windows. Outside, the snow was falling harder now, blurring the boundaries of the Pembroke estate into a cold, white wasteland.
For years, Arthur had used his wealth as a weapon to prove that everyone had a price, that the world was filled with parasites waiting to rob him. Yet, a man who was about to lose his home, a man who had every justification in the world to steal five thousand dollars from a billionaire who wouldn't even notice it missing, had taught his son a lesson in absolute, incorruptible honesty. And that same son—a starving, terrified seven-year-old boy—had honored his father's words over his own immediate survival.
Arthur clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white. I created his misery, the old man realized with a sickening jolt of clarity. My hospital, my lawyers, my corporate negligence caused the death of his wife and buried him in debt. And I sat in this chair, trying to tempt him into ruin like some modern-day devil.
"Get me my coat," Arthur said coldly, his voice brooking no argument.
May you like
"Sir? It's freezing outside, and your heart—"
"Get my coat, Evelyn! And bring me Samuel Carter's employment file immediately."
