Chapter 6 - The Desperate Plea
One week after the boardroom meeting, Vance Holdings was officially rebranded back to its historic original name: The Carlyle Global Conglomerate. Stock prices, which had initially plummeted during the arrest scandal, rebounded sharply by thirty percent as Wall Street celebrated my return as Sole Managing Director and Chief Executive Officer.
I was sitting in my corner office on the 80th floor, reviewing the quarterly expansion plans, when my executive assistant knocked gently on the door.
"Mrs. Carlyle," she said softly. "There is a man downstairs in the building lobby. He has been sitting on the bench outside for six hours. Security asked if you want him removed, but he refuses to leave until he speaks with you."
I looked at the security monitor on my desk.
Julian was sitting on the cold stone bench outside the Carlyle Tower entrance. His expensive suit was crumpled and filthy. His beard was overgrown, his eyes hollow and bloodshot. He looked like a homeless man begging for scraps on the street.
"Let him up," I said quietly. "Assign two guards to stand inside the office."
Five minutes later, Julian was escorted into my office. He walked in with his shoulders sloped, his posture completely shattered. He didn't look at the breathtaking view of Central Park, nor at the massive oil painting of my father behind my desk. He only looked at me.
"Clare..." he rasped, his voice dry and hoarse. "Please... just five minutes."
"You have three," I said, leaning back in my leather chair, my hands folded calmly on the desk.
Julian took a desperate step forward, but the two security guards instantly shifted, blockading him. He stopped, sinking to his knees right on the Persian rug in the middle of my office.
"I was wrong," he sobbed, pressing his palms together in a pathetic gesture of prayer. "I was insane, Clare! Mia manipulated me! She fed me poison every single day, telling me you didn't respect me, telling me I needed a male heir to be a real man! I was blind!"
"You were greedy, Julian," I corrected softly. "And you were cruel."
"I love you, Clare!" he cried out, tears streaming down his grimy face. "I love our daughter! Please... let me see Victoria! I'm her father! I can change! I'll accept any job in the company—I'll work in the mailroom! Just let me come home to the penthouse!"
"Home?" I let out a low, soft laugh that sent a cold shiver through the room. "The penthouse was sold yesterday, Julian. And as for Victoria... her father died the moment he checked his luxury watch and walked out of that delivery room to escort another woman home."
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"Don't say that!" he begged, reaching out a hand toward me. "I'm her biological father!"
"Biologically, perhaps," I replied coldly, standing up from my chair and looking down at him from behind my desk. "But legally, you signed away your parental rights when you tried to execute the trust exclusion clause. Khloe finalized the termination of your paternal rights yesterday afternoon. You have no daughter, Julian. You have no wife, no company, and no estate."
