Chapter 3 - Echoes of the Past
The heavy oak doors of the estate library were locked from the inside.
DataTable screens glowed across the mahogany desk, illuminating complex financial statements, property deeds, and corporate filings. Nathaniel sat behind the massive executive desk, while Grace stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows, her arms crossed defensively over her chest.
“Explain,” Nathaniel commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument.
Grace let out a long, shuddering breath, finally yielding to the reality that she couldn't hide her secret any longer.
“Those children aren't just random kids off the street,” Grace began, her voice soft, laden with a heavy, painful history. “Three years ago, that building on Elm Street was a state-funded youth rehabilitation and community center. My sister ran it. She dedicated her entire life to keeping kids off the streets, providing shelter, tutoring, and warm meals to orphans and runaways.”
Nathaniel listened quietly, his eyes never leaving her face.
“Then the city council rezoned the district,” Grace continued, her voice trembling slightly. “A major real-estate development firm swooped in, bought up the surrounding blocks for pennies on the dollar, and planned to demolish the center to build luxury high-rises. My sister fought them in court for eighteen months. She refused to sell the land.”
“And who was the parent company behind that acquisition?” Nathaniel asked, a dark premonition forming in his mind.
“Ashford Real Estate,” Grace said bitterly, turning to look him dead in the eye. “Specifically, your regional acquisition division. Headed at the time by your senior vice president... Marcus Vance.”
Nathaniel’s expression darkened into a thunderous storm. He remembered the project vaguely—a multi-state urban renewal initiative that had passed through his desk during his mother’s tenure as board chair. He had trusted his executive team to handle acquisitions ethically.
“My sister died in a suspicious car accident two weeks before the final zoning hearing,” Grace whispered, a tear finally escaping and cutting a clean path down her cheek. “The official report called it brake failure. The case was closed in forty-eight hours. But she had been receiving death threats for weeks—threats demanding she drop the deed handover.”
“And the children?” Nathaniel asked, his voice dropping to a dangerous, low register.
“The center lost its funding overnight. The city boarded up the utilities. But the kids had nowhere else to go. They’ve been living in the shell of that building ever since, surviving on whatever I can smuggle out of catering jobs and whatever local charities drop off once a week,” Grace said fiercely. “And Marcus Vance? He didn't drop the project. Even after you fired him for embezzlement, he’s been hanging around that property, trying to intimidate the kids into leaving so he can seize the land deed himself and sell it to an overseas developer under the table.”
The library fell into absolute silence.
Nathaniel stood up slowly from his leather chair. The billionaire’s mind—usually a hyper-efficient calculator of risk and reward—was suddenly burning with a cold, absolute wrath. Someone had used his corporate name to ruin lives, terrorize orphans, and potentially cover up a homicide under his nose.
“He’s using my name,” Nathaniel said softly, his voice shaking with restrained fury. “He’s using my corporate shadow to finish a dirty land grab.”
“He is,” Grace said, wiping her cheek with the back of her hand. “And tonight, he’s planning to bring city demolition crews to board up the building permanently, with or without the kids inside.”
Nathaniel walked over to his mahogany desk, picked up his titanium smartphone, and dialed a direct extension without hesitation.
“Victor? Clear my entire schedule for the next forty-eight hours,” Nathaniel ordered, his voice ringing with absolute corporate and personal authority. “And call our lead legal counsel, the head of private security, and three heavy-duty transport vans. We’re taking a trip to the east side.”
May you like
He ended the call, tossed the phone onto the desk, and looked back at his chef.
“Get your coat, Chef Bennett,” Nathaniel said, a cold, predatory smile touching the corners of his lips. “It’s time we pay my former employee a visit.”
