The Tycoon’s Only Mercy

The Mask Falls

The drive back from the Yates Medical Center was silent, but the air inside the car was thick with the scent of an impending storm. Stuart watched Elara from the corner of his eye. She wasn’t crying anymore; she sat perfectly still, her hands folded in her lap, her eyes fixed on the road ahead like a general mapping out a m******e.

When the Rolls-Royce pulled up to the Moore mansion, Stuart reached out, his hand covering hers for a brief, heavy moment. "I have a board meeting I cannot postpone. My men are stationed at the gate. If they so much as raise a hand to you, Elara, I will burn this house down with them inside it."

"I don't need you to burn it down, Stuart," Elara said, her voice sounding like ice cracking. "I'm going to do that myself."

She stepped out of the car and walked into the mansion. The silence of the foyer was broken by the clinking of silverware and the sound of light, carefree laughter coming from the dining room.

Elara followed the sound.

Clarissa, Mateo, and Alice were seated around the mahogany table, enjoying a lavish lunch of lobster bisque and expensive wine. They looked the picture of high-society grace—completely unbothered by the fact that the man who provided this life was currently fighting for breath in a charity ward.

"How was the lobster, Mother?" Elara’s voice cut through the room like a guillotine.

The trio jumped. Clarissa quickly smoothed her silk napkin, a fake, fluttering smile appearing on her face. "Elara! Darling, you startled us. You're just in time for—"

"I went to St. mark’s today."

The color drained from Clarissa’s face instantly. Mateo froze with his wine glass halfway to his lips. Alice looked down at her plate, her fingers tightening around her fork.

"I went to Level 1," Elara continued, walking toward the head of the table, her shadow looming over Clarissa. "I saw him. I saw my father, your husband, lying on a rusted cot in a charity ward while you sit here drinking a vintage that costs more than his monthly life support. How could you? How could you leave him there to rot?"

Clarissa’s eyes darted to Mateo before she squeezed out a pathetic, trembling sob. She reached for a lace handkerchief, dabbing at eyes that weren't even wet.

"Oh, Elara... you don't understand!" Clarissa wailed, her voice thick with rehearsed desperation. "The company... the Moore Industries... it’s been failing for months! We’re on the verge of total bankruptcy. I had to make a choice—keep this house for you and Alice, or pay for a VIP suite we can no longer afford. I did it for you, darling!"

"She’s telling the truth, Elara," Mateo added, his voice gravelly and faux-serious. "Your father’s condition is stable, but the medical bills were bleeding us dry. We were just waiting for a miracle."

Alice looked up, her eyes wide and watery. "We’ve been suffering in silence, sister. We didn't want to worry you while you were at campus."

Elara stared at them, her stomach churning with disgust. In her past life, she would have believed them. She would have felt guilty for her own safety and rushed to help.

"If we’re so broke," Elara said, gesturing to the table, "why are we eating lobster? Why did you buy Alice a new wardrobe last week?"

"That was a necessity to keep up appearances!" Clarissa insisted, grabbing Elara’s hand with a cold, desperate grip. "But you... you can save us, Elara. You’re engaged to the most powerful man in the country. If you truly care about your father, you’ll ask Stuart for a loan. No—not a loan. A business deal. Tell him Moore Industries needs a fifty-million-dollar injection immediately to 'expand.' If you get that money, we can move your father back to a private room tomorrow!"

"Yes, Elara," Mateo chimed in, leaning forward. "Just one word from you to Stuart. He’s obsessed with you; he’ll give you whatever you ask for. It’s for your father’s life, isn't it?"

Elara looked at her "Mother," seeing the naked greed behind the fake tears. They weren't trying to save her father; they were trying to use his suffering to pimp her out for Yates' gold.

Slowly, Elara pulled her hand away from Clarissa’s grasp.

"You want me to ask Stuart for fifty million dollars?" Elara asked, a terrifyingly soft smile playing on her lips.

"Yes, darling! Only you can do it!" Clarissa cried, hope lighting up her eyes.

"Then I have some news for you," Elara said, her voice dropping to a deadly whisper. "Stuart has already moved my father to the Yates Medical Center. Every bill is paid. Every debt is settled. And the best part? He didn't ask for a single cent from Moore Industries to do it."

The room went deathly silent. Clarissa’s jaw dropped.

"So," Elara continued, leaning over the table until she was inches from Clarissa’s face. "Since the company is 'bankrupt,' you won't mind when I bring the Yates auditors here tomorrow to look at the books, will you? After all, if we're in trouble, I'm sure Stuart would love to find out exactly where all the money went."

Mateo’s glass shattered in his hand. Clarissa looked like she was about to faint.

"I'm going to my room now," Elara said, turning her back on them. "Don't bother sending up dinner. I find the smell of liars makes me lose my appetite."

The air in the dining room remained frozen long after Elara’s heels had finished clicking up the grand staircase. The lobster bisque had gone cold, and the wine tasted like ash.

Mateo stared at the shards of his broken glass, his pulse drumming visibly in his neck. "She knows," he hissed, his voice trembling with a mixture of rage and terror. "Clarissa, that girl isn't guessing. She knows exactly what we’ve been doing. If those Yates auditors step foot in the Moore offices, we aren't just looking at bankruptcy—we’re looking at life sentences."

Clarissa slumped into her chair, her face looking older than it had five minutes ago. "I don't understand it. How did she change so fast? She was a puppet. I pulled the strings for three years, and she never even twitched!"

"It doesn't matter how," Alice snapped.

She had been silent throughout the confrontation, her eyes burning with a dark, focused intensity. Unlike her parents, Alice wasn't paralyzed by fear; she was fueled by a desperate, clawing need to reclaim her status. She looked at the empty doorway where Elara had stood, her lips curling into a cruel smirk.

"Auditors only come if there is a stable company to audit," Alice said, her voice eerily calm. "And Stuart only protects her as long as she is a 'pure' and 'loyal' fiancée. If Elara humiliates the Yates family—if she’s caught in a scandal so filthy that even Stuart’s money can’t scrub it clean—he won't send auditors. He’ll send a divorce lawyer and throw her into the street."

Mateo looked up, his brow furrowing. "What are you talking about, Alice? She just told us she hates the sight of us. How do we get her into a scandal?"

Alice leaned forward, the candlelight reflecting in her eyes like a predator’s. "She hates us. But she hasn't forgotten him. No matter how much she tries to act like a queen now, Elara has a weakness. A common, pathetic, scholarship-student weakness."

Clarissa’s eyes widened. "Xavier."

"Exactly," Alice whispered. "She was obsessed with him for years. She gave him her money, her time, even Stuart’s gifts. You saw how she reacted yesterday when he was mentioned—she got defensive. That’s because she’s trying to hide the fact that she still cares."

"But she just called him a ghost," Mateo reminded her.

"A ghost can still haunt you if it touches you in the right way," Alice countered. "We don't need Elara to love him. We just need the world to think she does. We need a photo. A video. Something that shows the future Mrs. Yates in a hotel room with her low-class ex-lover while Stuart is away on business."

Clarissa began to nod, a slow, predatory grin spreading across her face. "Xavier is desperate. Since Elara stopped paying his tuition, he’s been hounding Alice for money. He’s a starving dog, and starving dogs are very easy to train."

"Call him," Alice commanded, pushing the phone toward Mateo. "Tell him Elara is having a 'mental breakdown' and that she’s crying for him at a private villa. Tell him if he goes there and 'comforts' her, we’ll pay off his entire student debt and give him enough to leave the country."

"And the evidence?" Mateo asked, already reaching for his contacts.

"I’ll handle the 'anonymous' tip to the paparazzi," Alice said, her voice dripping with venom. "By tomorrow night, Stuart won’t be looking at Moore Industries’ books. He’ll be looking at the front page of every tabloid in the city, watching his 'queen' crumble into the dirt."