Chapter 5 - The Bankrupt Heir
The walls of Pacific Oak Crafting, once humming with the synchronized sounds of heavy machinery and productive labor, were painfully quiet. Raymond sat in his lavish corner office, staring at a stack of final notices. His head throbbed. The scotch glass on his desk was empty, and it was only ten in the morning.
Everything had fallen apart with terrifying speed. Without Brenda managing the supply chains, maintaining relationships with the massive retail distributors, and expertly balancing the ledgers, the company had hemorrhaged money. It turned out that saving a bankrupt company took actual brilliance, something Raymond now realized he severely lacked.
His phone rang. It was the bank. Again.
"Mr. Miller, we are calling to inform you that the line of credit for the Chula Vista warehouse has been frozen due to non-payment," the sterile voice on the other end said.
"I just need one more week," Raymond pleaded, running a trembling hand through his unwashed hair. "We have a major shipment going out to Seattle."
"That contract was cancelled yesterday, sir. Good day." The line clicked dead.
Raymond threw the phone against the wall, shattering the screen. He slumped forward, burying his face in his hands.
His life was a wasteland. Florence had suffered a minor stroke after the garden party and was now resting at the estate, heavily medicated and completely withdrawn. Gavin had disappeared, leaving behind a mountain of debts that unsavory people were now expecting Raymond to pay. And Brandy... the woman he had thrown his entire life away for, had texted him a single sentence before vanishing: “Sorry Ray, I need a man who can actually afford me.”
He looked at a framed photograph on his shelf that he had meant to throw away but couldn't bring himself to touch. It was Brenda and the four girls, taken at a Christmas party two years ago. They looked so happy. Brenda’s smile was radiant. She had loved him. She had built this empire for him. And he had treated her like a broodmare, discarding her the moment he thought he had found a better, younger option to give him a son.
A son that wasn't even his.
A knock on the door startled him. His secretary, looking nervous, peeked in. "Mr. Miller? There's a team of auditors here. They say they've been sent by the majority shareholder to review the books for liquidation."
Raymond frowned in confusion. "Majority shareholder? I own 33%. My father owns 24%."
"Not anymore, sir," the secretary said quietly. "Your father transferred his shares yesterday."
Chapter 6 The Crawling Return
The doorbell at my sister’s house in Phoenix rang at eight in the evening. I was at the stove, stirring a pot of pasta sauce, humming softly to myself. Gaby walked past me to answer the door.
A moment later, I heard her gasp. "What are you doing here?"
The venom in my fifteen-year-old daughter's voice made me drop the wooden spoon. I rushed to the front hallway. Standing on the porch, looking haggard, desperate, and remarkably smaller than I remembered, was Raymond.
His designer suit was wrinkled. He had dark circles under his eyes, and the arrogant smirk that usually lived on his face was entirely gone. When he saw me, tears actually welled up in his eyes.
"Brenda," he choked out, stepping forward.
Gaby immediately stepped between us, crossing her arms. "Don't take another step."
"Gaby, please, let me talk to your mother," Raymond begged, his voice cracking. "Brenda, please. I made a mistake. A terrible, catastrophic mistake. I was tricked. Brandy lied to me, she lied to all of us."
"I know," I said, my voice eerily calm. I gently moved Gaby aside, but I didn't step out onto the porch. I stayed exactly where I was, behind the threshold of my new life. "Walter told me everything."
"Then you know I was manipulated!" Raymond cried, falling to his knees on the concrete. It was pathetic. "I've lost everything. The business is failing. Mom is sick. I'm drowning, Brenda. I need you. We can fix this. We can come home, and we can be a family again."
I stared at the man I had spent sixteen years loving. I searched my heart for a flicker of sympathy, for a spark of the devotion that had kept me tied to his side through his mother's emotional abuse and his own cold indifference. There was nothing. Just cold, dead ash.
"You weren't manipulated, Raymond," I said softly. "You made a choice. You chose your ego. You chose to believe that a son was worth more than the five women standing right in front of you."
"I'm sorry!" he sobbed.
"You're not sorry you betrayed us," I replied, my voice hardening. "You're sorry you got caught in your own trap. You're sorry you're out of money. You're sorry you don't have me to do your work for you anymore."
"Brenda, please!"
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"Don't ever come near my daughters again," I said. "You'll be hearing from my legal team on Monday."
I closed the door in his face, ignoring his muffled cries from the porch. Gaby looked at me, her eyes shining with unshed tears and profound respect. I pulled her into a tight hug. We were going to be just fine.
