Chapter 8 - The Desperate Plea
Two weeks later, the Croft estate was officially foreclosed. The FBI had raided Julian’s temporary apartment, seizing his electronics and formally indicting him.
I was leaving a charity gala honoring local small businesses—an event my father’s auto shop had helped sponsor—when a figure stepped out of the shadows near the valet stand.
It was Julian.
He looked unrecognizable. His hair was unkempt, his clothes were wrinkled, and the arrogant sneer he used to wear like a crown was entirely gone, replaced by frantic desperation.
“Maya! Please!” he begged, stepping toward me.
Liam immediately stepped between us, putting a protective arm around my waist, his stance rigid and defensive.
“Back off, Croft,” Liam warned, his voice low and lethal.
“Maya, I’m begging you,” Julian cried, ignoring Liam, tears streaming down his face. “Drop the charges. I’ll go to jail. My mother is living in a motel! I lost everything. I’m sorry. I was stupid. I was intimidated by your success, by your money. I loved you!”
I looked at the man I had almost married. I felt no pity. I felt no anger. I just felt a profound emptiness.
“You didn't love me, Julian,” I said quietly. “You loved what I could do for you. You loved the comfort I provided. If you loved me, you would have been proud of where I came from. You wouldn't have hidden my parents like a dirty secret.”
“I’ll do anything!” he sobbed, dropping to his knees on the wet pavement.
May you like
“Then take responsibility for your own life,” I said coldly. “The charges stay. My lawyers will see you in court.”
I turned and walked to Liam’s car. I didn't look back as Julian sobbed into his hands on the street corner. The ghost of my past was finally, permanently exorcised.
