Chapter 7 - The Tables TurnBy the end of the week, the Larkmore Grand was undergoing a massive, unapologetic cleansing.
The fallout from Rowena Varden’s return had sent shockwaves through the city’s high-society circles. Tabloids screamed headlines about the canceled society wedding of the decade, the sudden freezing of Callum Varden’s trust fund, and the dramatic downfall of Clara Varden. But inside the hotel, a quiet revolution was taking place.
Thea sat at her desk in the penthouse, reviewing the newly restructured employee payroll distribution logs. For the first time in Larkmore history, the eighteen-percent service fee was being distributed fairly and directly to the frontline servers, housekeepers, and kitchen staff who actually earned it.
The heavy oak door opened without a knock.
Callum Varden stood in the doorway.
He looked entirely different from the polished, arrogant groom of a week ago. His designer suit was rumpled, his hair unstyled, and the confident swagger that had defined his entire life was completely gone.
Thea looked up from her desk, her expression neutral. “Mr. Varden. Visitors are required to make an appointment downstairs.”
Callum swallowed hard, stepping into the room. He looked around the penthouse, then down at the floor, unable to meet her eyes.
“Thea... I need to talk to my grandmother,” Callum said, his voice quiet, almost pleading.
“Rowena is in a budget review meeting with the legal team,” Thea replied smoothly. “She isn’t taking visitors. Especially not visitors who are currently facing federal investigation for corporate collusion.”
Callum winced. He stepped closer to the desk, his hands trembling slightly. “Look... I know how bad things look. I know what my mother and Merrick did was wrong. But cutting me off completely? Throwing me out of my apartment? Freezing my accounts? That’s my grandmother punishing me for something I didn't even do.”
Thea stood up slowly, walking around the glass desk until she stood just a few feet away from him.
“You didn’t do it, Callum? Really?” Thea asked, her voice dropping into a cool, steady register. “You walked past my friend Hazel every single day without even seeing her face. You watched Merrick scream at staff, you watched your mother treat human beings like garbage, and you said nothing. Because as long as your trust fund cleared and your champagne glass stayed full, none of it mattered to you.”
Callum opened his mouth to argue, but the words died in his throat. He knew she was right.
“My grandmother didn’t cut you off because of a wedding cake, Callum,” Thea continued softly. “She cut you off because she realized she raised a grandson who didn’t know how to be a human being. If you want your life back, go learn how to earn it. The way the rest of us do.”
Before Callum could reply, the elevator doors down the hall chimed, and heavy footsteps echoed toward the penthouse.
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Marcus Vance appeared in the doorway, nodding at Thea before locking his gaze onto Callum. “All right, Mr. Varden. Time to go. The lobby doors are waiting.”
Callum looked at Thea one last time, a bitter, broken realization settling into his eyes. Without another word, he turned around and walked out, the heavy oak doors closing behind him for the final time.
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