Chapter 22 - The Shadow of Chestnut Hill
Back in Boston, far away from private jets and international boardrooms, the Chestnut Hill estate stood like a hollow monument to a fallen dynasty.
The gates were padlocked with heavy industrial chains stamped with foreclosure notices. Weeds had begun to crack through the pristine gravel driveway where Aaron had once parked his fleet of luxury sports cars.
Margaret Prescott sat in a cramped, drafty apartment across town, wrapped in a faded woolen shawl. Her health had deteriorated rapidly following the collapse of the family fortune, and the endless medical bills were eating away at the last remnants of her hidden savings.
Her phone rang on the small laminate table. She looked at the screen—it was a debt collector regarding unpaid property taxes on a secondary summer home that had already been seized.
With a shaking hand, she let it ring out.
May you like
The heavy silence of the room was broken only by the sound of the radiator hissing. Margaret stared at the framed portrait of Aaron on the wall—a photograph taken during his corporate glory days, smiling arrogantly in a custom Brioni suit.
"You fool," Margaret whispered to the empty room, tears of bitter regret pooling in her eyes. "You absolute, arrogant fool. You had an empire in your hands, and you let a quiet girl walk out the door because you thought she was invisible."
