Chapter 4 - The Fall of the House of Hayes
The morning sun rose over the city, casting bright golden light through the floor-to-ceiling windows of my father’s penthouse estate.
I sat on the terrace wearing a comfortable cashmere sweater, sipping a warm cup of coffee. The welt on my cheek had been treated by my father’s personal physician, leaving only a faint pink mark.
On the glass table sat three national newspapers and an iPad displaying global news trends.
We hadn't even needed to push the story. The internet had done the work for us.
Despite the guests deleting their videos, several viewers had screen-recorded the live stream before it was taken down. By midnight, the clip had gone viral across every major platform.
The headline on Forbes read: "HAYES REAL ESTATE COLLAPSES OVERNIGHT AFTER CEO'S WIFE ASSAULTS BILLIONAIRE HEIRESS EMMA HARRISON."
The commentary online was brutal and absolute. Millions of people who had initially watched the stream to mock a "poor girl" were now furiously celebrating the absolute annihilation of the arrogant Hayes family. Clarissa Hayes had become the most hated woman on the internet overnight.
Howard walked out onto the terrace, holding a silver tray with fresh pastries and a fresh stack of legal reports.
"Good morning, Miss Emma," Howard said with a warm smile. "How are you feeling?"
"Better than I have in a long time, Howard," I smiled, taking a pastry. "What's the update on the Hayes family?"
Howard pulled a crisp document from his folder. "It is a complete landslide, Miss Emma. As of 8:00 AM this morning, three major banking syndicates have called in $120 million in immediate loan repayments from Hayes Real Estate. Since Harrison Global pulled its financial backing, Kenneth Hayes has zero liquidity."
"And the company?"
"Kenneth tried to hold an emergency board meeting at 9:00 AM," Howard chuckled softly. "Every single board member resigned via email before he even arrived at the building. The stock has plummeted 85%. They will formally file for Chapter 11 bankruptcy by the end of the week."
I took a slow sip of my coffee. "And Clarissa?"
"Mrs. Hayes was arrested at her estate at 6:00 AM by state troopers," Howard revealed. "The mugshot is currently the top trending image on Twitter. Kenneth was forced to use their remaining personal cash to post her bail, but her passport has been seized. She faces up to three years in state prison for felony assault."
Just then, my father walked out onto the terrace, wearing a casual polo shirt, holding a phone to his ear. He hung up and sat down beside me, kissing the top of my head.
"That was the chief of police," William said smoothly. "Brandon Hayes is currently standing outside the front gates of our private driveway."
I paused, setting my coffee cup down. "Brandon?"
"He's been standing there since 5:00 AM," my father said, his eyes narrowing slightly. "He brought a bouquet of cheap roses and is begging security to let him see you for five minutes. Do you want me to have the guards throw him off the property?"
I thought about it for a moment. Eight months of my life had been given to that man. Eight months where I truly believed he was sweet, grounded, and different. I needed to see his face one last time—not out of love, but to give myself final, absolute closure.
"No, Dad," I said, standing up. "Let him in. I'll meet him in the courtyard."
Ten minutes later, I walked down the grand marble steps of the estate courtyard.
Brandon stood near the fountain, flanked by two towering Harrison security guards. He looked like an absolute wreck. His suit was wrinkled, his hair messily uncombed, dark circles under his eyes, holding a pathetic plastic-wrapped bouquet of grocery store roses.
When he saw me walking toward him—dressed in elegant cashmere, guarded by professionals, radiating the undeniable aura of a Harrison—he froze, realizing just how completely out of his league I had always been.
"Emma..." Brandon choked out, taking a step forward. The guards instantly stepped into his path, but I raised a hand, gesturing for them to stand down.
"You have two minutes, Brandon," I said, my voice cool and even. "Say what you came to say."
Brandon dropped to his knees right on the stone gravel, holding up the flowers frantically.
"Emma, please! You have to save us!" Brandon wept, tears streaming down his face. "My dad fired me this morning! He blamed me for everything! The bank repossessed my sports car two hours ago! Our house is being auctioned off! We have nothing left!"
I looked down at him, feeling zero pity. "You didn't come here to apologize for hurting me, Brandon. You came here because you lost your luxury lifestyle."
"No! I love you, Emma! I swear I do!" he pleaded, reaching for the hem of my pants. "I didn't know you were William Harrison's daughter! I thought you were just a regular girl! If I had known—"
"That's the point, Brandon," I interrupted, stepping back so he couldn't touch me. "If a person is only kind to people who have power and money, then they aren't a good person. You were willing to let your mother crush an innocent girl because you thought she had no power to fight back. You deserve everything that is happening to you."
"Emma, please!" Brandon sobbed, clutching his face in his hands. "My mother is going to jail! We are going to be homeless!"
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"Then I suggest you get a job, Brandon," I said coldly. "Just like the 'regular people' you looked down on."
I turned my back on him and walked back up the marble steps, leaving his pathetic cries echoing off the stone walls of the estate.
