CHAPTER 3: NO WAY OUT
1176 Words
ELARA POV
“There has to be another way”, I screamed
I slammed my phone down on the marble counter, breathing hard.
My hands wouldn’t stop shaking. The clock on the wall mocked me—less than twelve hours until Stephen Black’s deadline. Dad’s face from yesterday flashed in my mind: broken, crying, begging. The Beast’s cold smile and those terrifying words still rang in my ears.
*Sign… or your father goes to prison tomorrow.*
I couldn’t let that happen.
I grabbed my keys and ran.
The first stop was the bank.
Tomas drove like the devil was chasing us.
My heart pounded the whole way.
I burst through the tall glass doors of the main branch, hair messy, eyes wild.
“Miss Hart,” the manager said, standing up nervously behind his desk.
“I’m afraid we can’t…”
“Please,” I cut him off, voice cracking.
“Just one more loan. A bridge loan. Anything. We have assets. The ships, the patents, the tower itself. I’ll sign whatever you want.”
He looked at me with pity.
“Your accounts are frozen, Elara after the scandal and the investigation every major bank has flagged you. We can’t touch this. I’m sorry.”
I leaned on his desk, tears stinging my eyes.
“My father built this company from nothing. Thousands of families depend on us. Please. Don’t do this.”
The manager shook his head slowly.
“Even if I wanted to, the board won’t approve. Hart Industries is toxic right now. Good luck.”
I left the bank running, my chest tight.
Next was our relatives.
I called Aunt Clara from the back of the car, fingers trembling on the screen.
She was Mom’s sister, the only family we had left in Europe. The phone rang forever.
“Elara?” Her voice was cool, distant.
“I saw the news.”
“Aunt Clara, we need help. Just enough to buy time. I know there was a fight years ago, but this is life or death. Dad could go to prison. Please.”
A long silence.
Then a sigh.
“I’m sorry, dear. I have my own troubles. My house is mortgaged. My savings are small. I can’t risk dragging my family into your mess. You Harts always thought you were untouchable. Look where that got you.”
The call ended
I stared at the phone, my throat burning. Another door closed.
I tried three more cousins.
One hung up.
Another said he was “too busy.”
The last one actually laughed nervously and wished me luck before disconnecting.
No one was coming.
“ Our investors,” I whispered to myself.
“There have to be investors.”
I spent the next three hours in the back seat making call after call. I searched for my old contacts, most of our former partners. The people who used to beg Dad for meetings.
My voice grew hoarse.
“Mr. Reynolds, you know our green shipping tech is solid.
Just a short-term investment…
“Elara, I’m sorry. The headlines are everywhere. No one wants to touch this.”
I tried someone else
“Ms. Patel, please, we’ve done business for fifteen years..”
“The risk is too high. My board would fire me.”
She hung up.
Every single one, one after another. The car felt smaller with every rejection.
My stomach twisted with panic. Sweat kept forming on my forehead even though the AC was blasting.
Tomas glanced at me in the mirror.
“Miss Elara… maybe it’s time to go home.”
“No,” I snapped, then softened. “I’m sorry, Tomas. Just… one more try.”
I met with two private equity guys in a quiet café.
They listened politely, flipping through the documents I had printed in a rush.
But their eyes said everything.
“Too much baggage,” one said, checking his watch.
“ Stephen Black already has the inside track. Fighting him would be suicide.”
The other gave me a sad smile.
“Sometimes you have to know when to fold, kid.”
I wanted to scream.
Instead, I thanked them with a broken voice and left before I cried in front of strangers.
By late afternoon, I was back at the penthouse, exhausted and hollow.
Maria met me at the door, her eyes red. She was carrying a small suitcase.
“Little star…” she whispered, pulling me into a tight hug.
Her familiar lavender scent wrapped around me
“They told me today. No more paychecks. I have to go.”
I clung to her, sobbing.
“Maria, no. Stay. I’ll figure something out. I promise.”
She stroked my hair the way she did when I was little.
“You’ve always been so strong. But sometimes strength means knowing when to bend. Don’t lose yourself trying to save everything.”
She left.
The door clicked shut behind her, and the big empty house felt colder than ever.
I slid down the wall, my knees to my chest, crying until my eyes burned.
Everything was failing. Banks. Family. Investors. The people who loved us were walking away with boxes and broken hearts.
Dad found me there hours later. He looked worse than I did.
He knelt beside me slowly, like an old man.
“Elara,” he choked out.
Tears spilled down his cheeks.
“I’m so sorry. After your mother died, I swore I would protect you. I built this empire So you would never feel pain like that again. But I made it worse. I broke every rule. I did everything. And now…”
His voice cracked completely.
He pulled me into his arms, shoulders shaking.
“I failed you.”
I held him tight, both of us crying together on the cold floor.
“We tried everything,” I whispered against his shoulder.
He pulled back, his eyes full of shame and fear.
“There is one way. Stephen’s offer. It’s the only thread left.”
My stomach dropped.
The Beast’s face flashed in my mind,his dangerous smile after I slapped him.
“I can’t,” I said, voice small.
“He’s dangerous. They call him the Beast for a reason. What if he destroys me too?”
Dad squeezed my hands.
His hands were cold and trembling.
“He’ll destroy me if you don’t. Prison, Elara. I won’t survive that. And the company, the people, they’ll lose everything.”
The weight crushed me.
I thought of all the workers who had believed in the Hart name.
I stood up on shaky legs.
“Where are the papers?”
Dad led me to his study with heavy steps.
The documents sat on the desk like a death sentence.
Stephen’s bold signature already marked several pages. My hand hovered over the final line.
Tears blurred my vision.
I saw Mom’s smiling photo on the shelf.
The tower shining in the morning sun.
My whole life.
I had no choice
“I’m sorry,” I whispered to no one.
- Writer
