Chapter 12 - A Desperate Plea
A week later, Clara was working in her new office when her assistant buzzed in.
“Ms. Miller, there is a Beatrice Sterling here to see you.”
“She says it’s an urgent family matter.”
Clara sighed, closing her laptop.
“Send her in, but keep security on standby.”
Beatrice walked in, looking entirely different from the arrogant woman at the birthday party.
Her designer clothes were wrinkled, and she had dark circles under her eyes.
“Clara, please,” Beatrice begged, her voice cracking.
“The bank is foreclosing on my condo, and Richard’s accounts are frozen by the IRS.”
“We have absolutely nothing left.”
Clara leaned back in her leather chair, her expression completely unreadable.
“What exactly do you want me to do, Beatrice?”
“Give us a small stipend,” Beatrice pleaded, tears spilling down her cheeks.
“Just enough to keep Julian and Preston in their private school.”
Clara looked at her coldly, remembering the folding stool by the garbage bags.
“When my husband died, you didn't offer to pay for Toby's meals.”
“When you humiliated my son, you didn't show a single ounce of pity.”
Beatrice sobbed loudly, dropping her face into her hands.
“I am sorry, Clara, I was wrong!”
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“Apologies don't rewrite history,” Clara said sharply.
“Security will escort you out now.”
