Chapter 17 Fractures and Alliances
1224 Words
Richard adjusted his tie for the third time in the elevator mirror. His jaw was tight, nerves crawling beneath his skin.
It had been three days since the engagement party. Three days since he humiliated his family. Three days since he chose not to show up. And now his father wanted to see him.
The private elevator doors slid open to the executive floor of Carter Holdings. The atmosphere was as imposing as ever — polished marble, quiet staff, wealth radiating from every surface.
Richard walked toward the large office doors, each step heavier than the last. He already knew what was coming. Disappointment. Anger. Threats about inheritance. Family reputation lectures.
He knocked.
“Come in,” his father’s voice called.
Richard entered.
Peter Carter sat behind his massive desk, calm and composed, reviewing documents as if nothing unusual had happened in the past week. He looked up slowly, studying his son.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
Then Richard exhaled.
“I know,” he said first. “You don’t have to say it. I messed up. I embarrassed the family. I—”
Peter raised a hand.
“Sit down.”
Richard frowned slightly but obeyed.
Silence lingered for a few seconds.
Then Peter asked something Richard never expected.
“How is Chloe?”
Richard blinked.
“…What?”
“Chloe,” Peter repeated calmly. “The girl you’ve been in love with for years.”
Confusion spread across Richard’s face.
“I thought… you hated her,” he said cautiously.
Peter leaned back in his chair, fingers steeple together.
“I hated the distraction,” he corrected. “Not the girl.”
Richard stared at him, stunned.
Peter continued.
“You were miserable these past months,” he said. “I saw it. You tried to move on. You tried to do what was expected. But you were never present. Not truly.”
Richard’s chest tightened.
“And then,” Peter went on, “you chose not to attend your own engagement party.”
A flicker of guilt crossed Richard’s face.
“I realized something,” Peter said quietly. “A man doesn’t make that kind of decision unless his heart is somewhere else.”
Richard swallowed hard.
Peter’s expression softened slightly — something rare.
“You’re my son,” he said. “Your happiness matters to me more than social alliances or business advantages.”
Richard felt like the ground had shifted beneath him.
“If Chloe is who you love,” Peter continued, “then you should fight for her.”
Richard’s eyes widened.
“You… approve?” he asked slowly, almost afraid to believe it.
Peter nodded once.
“I am prepared to do whatever is necessary to bring the two of you together again,” he said. “If reconciliation is possible, you should pursue it.”
Emotion hit Richard unexpectedly. Relief. Hope. Gratitude.
“I thought you’d disown me,” he admitted quietly.
Peter gave a faint smile.
“You’re still my son.”
A long silence followed — this one warm instead of tense.
Richard stood.
“I’ll talk to her,” he said. “Thank you… Dad.”
Peter inclined his head.
“Go.”
Richard left the office with something he hadn’t felt in days. Hope.
The door closed. The warmth vanished instantly.
Peter Carter’s expression hardened into something cold and calculating. He stood slowly, walking toward the floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the city skyline.
His reflection stared back at him.
“Damon Heights…” he muttered.
His jaw tightened.
The auction loss still burned in his chest. Fifty million dollars. Anonymous bidder. But Peter didn’t need confirmation anymore.
He knew Damon had the Reliquary and Chloe. His hands curled into fists behind his back.
“All this time,” he said softly to himself, “you were the obstacle.”
His eyes darkened with ambition.
“But not for long.”
Peter’s voice dropped to a near whisper.
“I will bring your empire down,” he swore. “Piece by piece.”
A slow smile formed — dangerous and patient.
“And when I have the Priestess… when Chloe’s power is mine…”
His reflection seemed almost monstrous in the glass.
“You won’t stand a chance.”
-
The news arrived like a bombshell.
Mr. Wilson stood in his study, phone still pressed to his ear long after the call had ended. His expression was dark, jaw clenched so tightly the muscles twitched.
Across the room, Mrs. Wilson watched him impatiently.
“Well?” she demanded. “What did they say?”
He lowered the phone slowly.
“The Carters have withdrawn,” he said flatly. “The marriage alliance is cancelled.”
For a moment, silence filled the room.
Then Mrs. Wilson exploded.
“What?!” she shrieked. “Cancelled? After everything? After all the planning? The invitations? The announcements?”
Her voice rose with every word, rage consuming her composure.
“This is humiliation! Public humiliation!”
Mr. Wilson rubbed his temples. “They claimed unforeseen circumstances. Richard’s absence at the engagement was the final insult.”
Mrs. Wilson’s eyes flashed with fury.
“I know exactly what the circumstances are,” she snapped. “Chloe.”
Mr. Wilson didn’t respond, which only fueled her anger more.
“That girl has ruined everything,” she continued bitterly. “Ever since she came into Clara’s life, nothing has been stable. First the emotional drama, now this disaster. My daughter’s future has been destroyed because of her.”
“That’s enough,” Mr. Wilson said quietly, though without much conviction.
But Mrs. Wilson wasn’t finished.
“No, it’s not enough,” she said coldly. “I will not allow my daughter to suffer because of some opportunistic nobody. I will fix this.”
—
Later that evening, Clara sat in the living room, wrapped in a blanket despite the warm temperature.
She had been discharged from the hospital only hours earlier.
Her eyes were swollen from crying. Her posture slumped. The confident, radiant woman she once was seemed to have faded into someone fragile and uncertain.
Mrs. Wilson sat beside her, stroking her hair gently.
“My baby…” she murmured. “Don’t cry anymore. Please.”
Clara’s voice broke.
“He didn’t even give an excuse,” she whispered. “Not even one. Not a call. Not an explanation. Nothing. Mom… what did I do wrong?”
Mrs. Wilson’s heart clenched at the pain in her daughter’s voice.
“You did nothing wrong,” she said firmly. “Nothing. This is not your fault.”
Tears slid down Clara’s cheeks again.
“I feel so embarrassed,” she admitted. “Everyone was there. They were all watching me… waiting. I just stood there like an idiot.”
Mrs. Wilson pulled her into an embrace.
“Listen to me,” she said softly but with steel underneath. “This situation will be corrected. I promise you.”
Clara sniffled weakly. “How?”
Mrs. Wilson’s eyes hardened — calculating, determined.
“There are many ways to repair a disaster,” she said. “And I will make sure you get the life you deserve.”
As she held her daughter, one thought burned clearly in her mind. Chloe would not be allowed to take anything else from Clara. Not again.
- Writer
