Chapter 5 - The Empire of Clara Bennett
The private salon was a beautiful, dimly lit room filled with velvet sofas, antique oil paintings, and a massive mahogany table.
Clara sat at the head of the table.
She was slowly sipping a glass of vintage Krug champagne, her emerald gown cascading over the chair. Beside her sat Arthur Pendelton, Preston’s CFO, who was holding a thick stack of legal documents and looking at Clara as if she were a goddess who had descended from the heavens to save him from ruin.
The door opened, and the security guards escorted Preston and Marjorie inside.
Preston took one look at Clara—at her diamonds, her gown, her absolute, chilling poise—and his voice died in his throat. This was not the woman who made his omelets. This was not the quiet, compliant girl who spoke with a soft Kentucky drawl and wore faded jeans.
This was someone else entirely.
"Clara?" Preston whispered, his hands trembling. "What... what is this? Where did you get that dress? Where did you get those diamonds?"
"Do you like them, Preston?" Clara asked, her voice smooth and cool as silk. "They’ve been in my family's vault in Louisville for three generations. I thought tonight was the perfect occasion to bring them out."
"You... you stole my accounts!" Marjorie shrieked, pointing a finger at Clara. "You're a thief! We’ll have you arrested! We’ll tell the police what you did!"
"Actually, Marjorie," Clara said, setting her champagne glass down with a soft clink, "the police are currently waiting downstairs. But they aren't here for me. They’re here for Preston."
Preston’s face drained of color. "For me? Why?"
Arthur Pendelton stood up, sliding the stack of documents across the table. "Preston... the audit reports. The ones Apex Capital requested. When Clara’s legal team reviewed our books, they found the offshore accounts you and your mother used to funnel company funds. Over four million dollars, Preston. You used corporate credit to buy your mother’s penthouse, her jewelry, and... well, your trip to Greece with Brianna."
"Arthur, you're my employee!" Preston screamed. "You work for me!"
"No, Preston," Arthur said, his voice flat. "He works for me," Clara corrected. "In fact, everyone at Vale Enterprises works for me now. As of four o'clock this afternoon, Apex Capital has finalized the acquisition of ninety-two percent of your company's outstanding shares. Vale Enterprises is now a subsidiary of Bennett Holdings."
She leaned forward, resting her chin on her laced fingers, her gaze locking onto Preston’s terrified eyes.
"You called me a stupid country girl, Preston," Clara said softly. "You said I was an obedient mule. You thought I was too weak to fight back because I loved you. But you forgot that country girls know how to handle weeds. We pull them out by the roots."
"Clara, please," Preston sobbed, suddenly dropping to his knees. He crawled toward her, his hands reaching out to grab the hem of her emerald gown, but the security guards instantly stepped in, holding him back. "I'm sorry! I was stupid! Brianna was nothing—she was a mistake! I love you, Clara! We can rebuild the company together. You have the money, I have the vision—"
"You don't have a vision, Preston," Clara said, her voice entirely devoid of pity. "You had a wife who covered your mistakes. Now, you have nothing."
She picked up a pen and signed the final page of the acquisition document.
"Happy birthday, Preston," she said.
She stood up, ignoring his desperate cries, and walked toward the double doors that led to the grand ballroom. The sound of the twelve-piece jazz band was loud now, a beautiful, swinging melody that filled the air with energy.
Marjorie stood frozen in the corner of the room, her luxury world completely shattered, realizing that the "worried little maid" she had sneered at was the owner of the very ground she stood on.
Clara stepped through the doors and onto the stage of the grand ballroom.
Two hundred and fifty of Chicago’s elite stood up, their applause echoing off the crystal chandeliers. David Sterling, Senator Vance, and the city’s top business leaders raised their glasses to her.
May you like
Clara smiled, her grandmother's diamonds catching the light, knowing that her father's empire was finally in the right hands.
Her own.
