Chapter 8 - Begging in the Dust
Two weeks later.
The annual Los Angeles Business & Philanthropy Gala was held at the Grand Regency Ballroom. It was the premier event of the year, attended by billionaires, politicians, and celebrities.
I arrived as the keynote speaker and the recipient of the Humanitarian of the Year Award for my corporate foundation's work with survivors of domestic abuse.
I wore a floor-length emerald green silk gown, diamond earrings, and no ring on my left hand. I looked radiant, powerful, and completely unbothered.
As I exited my limousine outside the venue, flashbulbs blinded the red carpet. Journalists shouted my name, clamoring for an interview.
Suddenly, a disheveled, ragged figure broke through the security barrier.
"Victoria! Victoria, please!"
It was Ethan.
He looked unrecognizable. He was wearing the same dirty suit from two weeks ago. His hair was matted, his face covered in unkempt stubble. He had lost weight, his eyes hollow and desperate.
Security guards instantly tackled him to the ground, pinning him against the red carpet.
"Let him speak," I said calmly to the guards, stopping my walk up the steps.
The guards lifted Ethan to his knees. He looked up at me from the dirt, tears streaming down his face, sobbing uncontrollably in front of hundreds of cameras and society elite.
"Victoria... please..." Ethan wept, crawling on his knees toward my heels until the guards held him back. "I’m sorry... I’m so sorry! I was blind! My mother manipulated me! She made me hate you!"
"Your mother didn't raise your hand to hit me, Ethan," I said, my voice echoing across the silent carpet. "You did that all on your own."
"I lost everything!" Ethan begged, clutching his hands together in prayer. "The bank seized my car! I was evicted from the motel! I have no money for food! I have no lawyer! The prosecutor is going to put me in prison for assault!"
He bowed his head until his forehead touched the floor at my feet.
"Please, Victoria... I’ll be your servant! I’ll do whatever you want! Just give me a second chance! I still love you!"
The crowd watched in breathless silence.
I looked down at the man who had hit me, who had tried to destroy my dignity, who had let his mother mock me while I quietly carried his entire life on my back.
I stooped down slightly, looking him dead in the eyes.
"Ethan," I whispered softly. "Do you remember what you said to me when you threw me out of my house?"
Ethan blinked through his tears, terrified. "N-no..."
"'Pack your cheap clothes and leave,'" I quoted, a faint, ice-cold smile touching my lips. "'And don't forget your place.'"
I straightened up, turning my back on him.
May you like
"Security," I said smoothly. "Remove this beggar from the premises."
Ethan screamed and thrashed as the guards dragged him away down the street, his cries lost in the flashing cameras and the roaring applause of the crowd.
