Chapter 5: The Purge of the Vain
Chapter 5: The Purge of the Vain
Before Clare could even gather her breath to offer a lie, the heavy oak doors of the grand ballroom swung open. Four uniformed detectives from the Seattle Police Department’s financial crimes and felony assault divisions marched down the carpeted aisle, their steel handcuffs gleaming under the crystal chandeliers.
"Clare Montgomery," the lead detective announced, stepping up to the VIP table and pulling her arms behind her back with a sharp, metallic clack. "You are under arrest for grand larceny, identity theft, corporate wire fraud, and first-degree felony domestic assault. You have the right to remain silent."
"No! Ethan, please! It was a mistake!" Clare screamed, her custom sixty-thousand-dollar white silk gown wrinkling as she struggled against the iron grip of the detectives. Her makeup was ruined, streaks of black mascara running down her pale, sweating cheeks like oil on snow. "I love you! I did it for us! Your mother... she was getting in the way of our future! Please don't do this to me!"
"Get your hands off my daughter!" Evelyn howled, reaching out to slap one of the detectives, but a female officer instantly grabbed her wrist, clicking a second pair of handcuffs around her diamond-laden arms. "Ethan Wallace, you are a monster! You ruined our lives over an old maid from the slums!"
"She is my mother, Evelyn," Ethan said, his face an unbending block of granite as he watched them being dragged down the center aisle of the ballroom in front of two hundred flashing press cameras. "And you are both going to spend the next fifteen years of your lives in a concrete cell learning the exact definition of that word."
As the heavy doors closed behind the screaming Montgomery women, the ballroom remained in a stunned, breathless silence. Ethan walked back to the head table, ignoring the murmurs of the elite guests, and sat back down beside Ruth.
He took her frail, trembling hands in his own, gently unwrapping the silk scarf from her left wrist. In front of the entire high-society world, the billionaire knelt down on one knee before the elderly woman, took a small tube of soothing medical ointment from his pocket, and began to gently apply it to her dark, swollen bruises.
"I'm sorry, Mom," Ethan whispered, his voice cracking with a raw, rare emotion he had never shown to the world. "I'm sorry I let those vultures into our home. I'm sorry I didn't see it sooner."
Ruth looked down at him, her eyes overflowing with hot, thick tears—but for the first time in twelve months, they weren't tears of fear. They were tears of pure, overwhelming relief. She touched his dark hair with her uninjured hand, her fingers shaking.
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"You didn't know, Ethan," she murmured, her voice steady and beautiful. "You were just trying to build a family. You don't have to protect me anymore, son."
"Yes, I do, Mom," Ethan said, standing up and helping her rise from her chair. He looked out at the two hundred billionaires who were now standing in a silent, respectful ovation for the woman who had raised the titan of Wallace Global. "From now on, no one touches you. No one speaks to you without bowing their head. This city belongs to you."
