Chapter 13
Three days later, the sterile walls of the central district hospital interrogation suite felt far removed from the luxury of the ballroom, but for Caroline, the clinical quiet was a welcome relief. Seated across a heavy steel table, she wore a simple grey sweater, the thick white bandages around her throat replaced by a discrete, flesh-toned medical wrap that still couldn't hide the dark bruising underneath.
The heavy steel door swung open, and Richard Vance stepped inside. The patriarch looked twenty years older. His posture was completely broken, his shoulders permanently slouched, his tailored suit rumpled as if he had slept in it for three days straight.
"Caroline," he whispered, his voice cracking. He pulled out the metal chair opposite her and sat down with agonizing slowness. "Thank you for seeing me."
"You didn't have to come here, Dad," Caroline said, her tone neutral, entirely devoid of warmth, yet free of malice. "The lawyers could have handled the corporate transfer."
"I needed to look at you," Richard said, his eyes welling with fresh tears as he stared at her bandaged neck. "Every time I close my eyes, I see you standing in that doorway. I see what my blindness allowed Isabella to do. I raised a monster, Caroline. And I almost let her kill my real flesh and blood."
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"You loved the illusion she sold you," Caroline replied quietly. "Because she told you what you wanted to hear, while I was busy keeping the company afloat and telling you hard truths."
"I am stepping down," Richard said flatly, the words tasting like ash in his mouth. "Effective immediately. The board has emergency provisions. As the primary surviving heir—and the legal majority shareholder once the courts process the asset forfeiture—the entire conglomerate belongs to you. All of it."
