Chapter 7: Sins of the Father
The next morning, it felt as though the entire world had collapsed on top of Emily’s tiny, rundown apartment in East Los Angeles.
She sat on her faded couch, wrapped in a threadbare blanket, staring blankly at the cracked screen of her television. Every major news network was flashing the same breaking story.
DAUGHTER OF DISGRACED FINANCIER INFILTRATES BILLIONAIRE’S HOME.
Vanessa had wasted no time. The tabloids were having a field day, painting Emily as a mastermind corporate spy attempting to finish the job her father started. Photos of Emily fleeing the gala in tears were plastered next to mugshots of Arthur Thorne.
Her phone buzzed relentlessly. Unknown numbers. Reporters. Death threats from people who had lost their pensions when her father’s hedge fund collapsed.
Emily buried her face in her hands, sobbing until her lungs burned. She had spent the last decade working grueling shifts, scrubbing floors, and changing bedpans just to distance herself from Arthur Thorne’s legacy. And in one night, Vanessa had dragged her right back into hell.
A sharp, aggressive knock at the door made her jump.
“Miss Thorne? We know you’re in there! Channel 8 News, can you comment on your relationship with Daniel Sterling?”
Emily backed away from the door, terrified. She grabbed her phone and dialed the only place she cared about.
“Oakwood Care Facility, how may I direct your call?” the receptionist answered.
“Hi, it’s Emily. Emily Davis—I mean, Thorne. Is my mother okay? Are there reporters there?”
“Emily, I’m so sorry,” the receptionist’s voice was tight with stress. “The press found out she was here. They’re swarming the lobby. Worse, the facility administrator just reviewed your file. Because of the media circus and the... implications about your finances, they are requiring the next six months' payment upfront by tomorrow, or your mother will be discharged.”
“Discharged? She needs round-the-clock medical care! She can’t survive outside a facility!” Emily panicked, her heart climbing into her throat. “How much?”
“Forty thousand dollars.”
The line went dead. Emily dropped the phone. Forty thousand dollars. She barely had forty dollars in her checking account.
Across town, in the penthouse of Sterling Tower, Daniel sat in his darkened office. A glass of scotch sat untouched on his desk. He stared at the security footage from the gala, pausing on the exact moment he had kissed Emily.
He wanted to hate her. He had spent his entire adult life building a fortress of hatred against the Thorne family. But as he watched her face on the screen, he couldn't shake the nagging feeling in his gut.
May you like
The terror in her eyes when her identity was revealed hadn’t looked like the panic of a spy getting caught. It looked like the terror of a victim cornered by a monster.
His intercom buzzed. “Mr. Sterling,” his head of security said. “We have a problem. It’s about Vanessa Kensington. And Mandalay Credit.”
