Chapter 8 - ASHES TO ASHESThe silence that followed Bennett’s collapse was broken only by the gentle crashing of the waves against the Malibu cliffs below.
Bennett stared at me with wide, panicked eyes, the smooth, arrogant facade completely stripped away. He looked like a drowning man grasping at straws.
“Elise... please,” Bennett stammered, taking a desperate step forward. “We had history. We were supposed to... we could have been partners. Real partners.”
“History?” I laughed, stepping down the marble steps until I was standing right in front of him. “The only history we have is that my father tried to sell me to you like a prize racehorse. And you were more than happy to buy me.”
I leaned in close, my voice dropping to a sharp, icy whisper.
“Know this, Bennett: I am not a prize. I am the storm.”
Marcus Vance stepped in, signaling to two federal agents. “Mr. Vale, you’re trespassing on federal seizure property. I suggest you get back in your car before I have you detained for obstruction.”
Bennett glared at me with pure, unadulterated hatred, realizing there was nothing left to salvage. He spun around, stumbled back into his town car, and slammed the door. The vehicle sped away down Cliffside Drive, tires screeching against the pavement.
Conrad was left kneeling on the concrete among the shattered glass of his old family photos, his shoulders shaking with silent, defeated sobs. Damian stood nearby, staring blankly at the ground, completely broken.
I didn't feel pity. I didn't feel anger.
I felt absolute, liberating peace.
Julian and Elena walked up beside me, wrapping their arms around my shoulders.
May you like
“It’s over, Aunt Elise,” Julian murmured softly.
“No, Julian,” I smiled, looking out toward the endless blue horizon of the Pacific Ocean where my fleet, my career, and my true family waited. “It’s just beginning.”
