Chapter 4 - The Titan Arrives — William Ashford's Wrath
Back at Pacific Crest, the private VIP recovery wing on the tenth floor was locked down tighter than a federal reserve.
William Ashford strode out of the private executive elevator like a general surveying a conquered battlefield. He was seventy-two years old, with sharp silver hair, piercing blue eyes that matched mine, and a tailored Brioni suit that commanded absolute obedience without a single word being spoken.
Behind him walked a phalanx of three corporate attorneys and Dr. Keller, who looked as though he might throw up at any second.
In the waiting alcove, Lorraine Monroe sat frozen in a leather armchair. The two security guards stood sentinel over her. She looked smaller, older, her expensive blouse wrinkled, her hands trembling in her lap.
When William Ashford stopped in front of her, the air in the room seemed to drop twenty degrees.
William didn't shout. He didn't raise his fist. He simply looked down at her with a contempt so profound it felt physical.
“Lorraine,” William said quietly.
Lorraine swallowed hard, her voice trembling. “W-William... I didn't know. If I had known Hannah was your daughter—”
“That’s the entire point, isn't it?” William cut her off, his voice like grinding ice. “You thought she was an ordinary girl from Oregon. You thought she had no family, no backing, no power. So you treated her like dirt beneath your feet. You stole her peace, you allowed your worthless son to humiliate her, and today... today you pushed a pregnant woman down a flight of stairs and watched her bleed.”
“It was an accident!” Lorraine sobbed, her composure entirely shattered. “We argued! She tripped!”
“The security cameras in the Napa townhouse tell a very different story,” William said, snapping his fingers. One of the attorneys stepped forward and dropped a heavy manila folder onto the table in front of her. “High-definition footage of you shoving my daughter with both hands. Combined with the hospital staff’s official testimony that you withheld emergency medical authorization while wishing death upon my daughter and unborn grandchild.”
Lorraine covered her face with her shaking hands, weeping openly. “Please... William, have mercy. Ethan didn't know either! We both thought—”
“Ethan is currently stranded in Miami with frozen accounts, a repossessed car, and a terminated contract,” William said flatly. “And by the time the sun sets, he will be facing criminal charges for corporate fraud, embezzlement of subsidiary funds, and conspiracy.”
Lorraine’s head snapped up, horror dawning in her eyes. “Embezzlement? What are you talking about? Ethan worked hard for everything he had!”
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William smiled—a cold, humorless expression.
“Ethan never earned a single promotion in his life, Lorraine. Every single contract, every client referral, every bonus he ever bragged about? It was funneled through shell accounts and subsidized directly by Hannah’s personal trust to keep him afloat because she was foolish enough to think love could fix an empty soul.” William leaned in close, his voice dropping to a terrifying whisper. “You didn't just bite the hand that fed you, Lorraine. You tried to murder it. Now, watch it crush you.”
