Chapter 20
I gestured lazily toward the leather bench across from my desk. He didn’t sit. He dropped to his knees instead. Like prayer. Like guilt. Like too fucking late.
“I never stopped loving you,” he whispered. “Everything I did–it wasn’t supposed to end like this. I didn’t know. I was blind. I thought I was protecting my legacy. I didn’t realize you were it.”
I said nothing. Just reached for my coffee. Blew on it. He kept going. Of course he did.
“Caroline meant nothing. I let her manipulate everything because I was too arrogant to see the damage. I didn’t listen to you. I didn’t protect you. I didn’t protect our child. And I know -I know there’s no fixing that. But I still love you. I always have.”
I finally looked him in the eye.
And smiled.
A slow, quiet, elegant smile.
Then I said, “You killed more than our baby, Favio.”
“You killed the version of me that loved you.”
He blinked like I’d slapped him.
But I wasn’t finished.
“That girl–the one who built dreams with you, forgave you, believed in you? She bled out in that stairwell while you were busy turning my womb into a battlefield for your ego.”
His lips trembled. “Amelia, please…”
I leaned back in my chair and pressed the button on the intercom.
“Security. Escort Mr. Cunnngham out of the building.”
He flinched like it physically hurt. “No–no, wait, don’t-” Two guards entered silently. Polished. Efficient. “Let go of me! Amelia-!”
I didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. Just whispered before they pulled him out-
“You taught me what hell feels like. Let me return the favor.”
And just like that, the door closed behind him.
Favio Cunningham, once the king of my world, now just another man begging for mercy at the feet of the woman he buried and couldn’t kill.
After two fucking hours…
I was halfway through reviewing expansion documents for the Singapore office when Alina buzzed in.
“There’s someone here asking for you, ma’am. Urgently.”
I didn’t even glance up. “Tell them to schedule through the portal.”
She hesitated. “It’s… Mrs. Cunningham. She’s here. Wearing all black. Said she won’t leave without seeing you.”
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1 paused. Let the silence stretch like a blade.
“She’s wearing a vet?”
“Like she’s at a funeral?”
Alina swallowed, “Yes”
I set the pen down. “Fine. But she doesn’t come in alone”
I called for two of my security heads. They flanked the glass doors before she even stepped into the room. I wanted her to feel outnumbered, outmatched, out of time,
She hobbled in like some haunted relic of her former self, Dressed in a tailored black dress, long sleeves, veil draped dramatically across her face. Mourning widow chic. She even had pearls on–God, it was almost laughable. She walked to the center of the room, looked around like she was trying to recognize the woman I’d become,
Then dropped to her knees,
Actually dropped. To her knees,
“Amelia,” she said, voice quivering, “I beg you. For the love of everything holy, I know what we did. What I allowed, But I’m here now. I’ve lost my son–his soul is rotting. My family name is in the mud. The press has turned me into a monster”
I leaned back in the chair. “They didn’t turn you into anything, Mrs. Cunningham. They just held up a mirror”
She fumbled in her purse and pulled out a thin envelope, held it up like it was sacred scripture.
“This is a prenuptial agreement,” she gasped. “One billion dollars. Yours, I will sign it today. No lawyers, No tricks. If you come back to my son’s life. If you help us rebuild. I will–I’ll give up everything. You can have it. You already won. Isn’t that enough?”
I laughed. Like, really laughed. That deep, belly laugh that makes your stomach hurt.
She flinched.
“I’m sorry,” I wiped the corner of my eye, still chuckling. “You think this is about money?”
She dropped the envelope. “You don’t understand. I raised him wrong. I raised a man who destroyed a woman like you. And I’ll live with that forever. But I see you now. I see your worth. I see it in every headline, in every headline my PR team can’t spin. You’re a goddess now. Please. Forgive us.”
I just stared at her. Cold. Unmoved.
She sniffled and tried another tactic. “You know, Amelia… this empire you’re building–it won’t last. You may win the headlines today, but dynasties don’t die easy. Ours has teeth And blood. And old friends in dark places.”
Ah. There it was.
The real Cunningham voice. Acid–dipped silk.
I stood up slowly. Walked around the desk until I was eye–level with her. She tried to hold
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her posture. Tried to make her grief look noble.
But I saw the venom swimming just under the veil.
I bent down, just enough so she could hear me breathe. And I whispered:
“Then I’ll bury yours next to your lies.”
She gasped. Like the words hurt worse than a bullet. I turned to my guards.
97%
“Escort her out. Kindly. But if she ever shows up again, I want her blacklisted from every building my family company owns. Every one.”
She was still kneeling when they lifted her. Still clutching that envelope like it was her
rosary.
I didn’t even look back. Just sat at my desk, sipped my espresso, and went back to building the empire they tried to kill me in.
One ruin at a time.
The boardroom was ice–cold, not from the aircon–but from the tension. Shareholders stared at me like I was a ghost with perfect posture. Some were old money, others were just greedy. But all of them were scared.
I wore white.
Not for irony. Just for precision. White makes a cleaner contrast when you cut someone open–especially in a boardroom.
The Cunningham tech subsidiary–Echelon Dynamics–was bleeding already. They just didn’t know I was the one holding the scalpel. The last of their crown jewels. And I came for it like I always do: calm, clinical, and deadly.
