Richard sat in what used to be his office, though calling it "his" felt like a cruel joke now. The chair at the head of the conference table belonged to his brother Patrick, who sat there with the casual authority of someone who'd spent the past two years systematically dismantling everything Richard had built.
Two years ago, their father had made his decision. Richard was out as CEO. Patrick and his daughter Cindy would take control of Carter Technologies and try to salvage what remained of the company's reputation and market position.
The humiliation had been absolute. Stripped of his title, sidelined from major decisions, forced to watch his younger brother undo his strategies and partnerships. Victoria had been equally marginalized, her role reduced from strategic advisor to mere board member with no real influence.
Of course, they blamed Brandon for everything. If he hadn't escaped, if he hadn't built his empire, if he hadn't made Carter Tech look incompetent by comparison—none of this would have happened.
Patrick cleared his throat. "Richard, I need you to understand that we're distancing the company from anything associated with your... previous strategic decisions. That includes any initiatives targeting Carter Innovations or Brandon specifically."
Richard's jaw clenched. "He destroyed this company—"
"You destroyed this company," Patrick interrupted coldly. "Your vindictive obsession with your ex-son-in-law, the cheating scandal, the failed legal battles—all of that happened under your leadership. I'm trying to rebuild what you broke."
Richard wanted to argue, but the numbers didn't lie. Under Patrick's leadership, Carter Tech had stabilized. They weren't growing, but they'd stopped hemorrhaging clients and market share. Patrick's strategy of avoiding confrontation with Brandon and focusing on their remaining strengths was the only reason the company still existed.
It didn't make Richard hate Brandon any less.
---
Brandon drove toward the Carter house with growing unease. Margaret had asked to meet at the coffee shop, but when he arrived, she'd asked if they could go somewhere more private. Somewhere Richard couldn't unexpectedly show up.
When Brandon suggested his house, she'd hesitated only briefly before agreeing.
Now, as they pulled through the gates of his mansion, Margaret's eyes widened with genuine shock. "Brandon... I knew you were successful, but this is..."
"Just one of several properties," Brandon said, trying to downplay it. "This one didn't cost that much, relatively speaking."
He wasn't exaggerating. As his wealth had grown exponentially, so had his assets. Houses in major cities around the world. Cars, yachts, private planes. On paper, he was listed as having a net worth of around $850 billion. In reality, his personal wealth exceeded multiple trillions—but that number was so absurd, so potentially destabilizing to financial markets, that he kept the full extent hidden.
If it were up to him, he'd prefer to claim he was just a millionaire. But his empire was too vast, too visible for such modest claims to be credible.
He led Margaret inside, where the AI system ARIA adjusted lighting and temperature automatically. Margaret looked around the expansive living room with an expression mixing awe and sadness—probably thinking about the contrast between this sanctuary and her own home.
"Let me get you some coffee," Brandon said, guiding her to the kitchen. "And I think I have some pastries from that French bakery you liked."
Margaret settled onto one of the bar stools while Brandon prepared their drinks. She was wearing a light scarf, but when she absently adjusted it, he caught sight of another bruise on her neck. This time she didn't try to hide it.
"Margaret," Brandon said gently, setting the coffee in front of her. "Is everything okay?"
She was silent for a long moment, staring into her cup as if it contained answers she couldn't find anywhere else.
"He did it again," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "Richard hit me. He's getting more agitated every day, and he uses me to vent his anger."
Brandon felt his hands clench into fists, but he forced himself to remain calm. Margaret needed support, not more anger.
"It happened yesterday," she continued. "I wanted to call you right away, but I was afraid. Afraid Richard would somehow find out I contacted you. Afraid I was being a burden on you."
"You're not a burden, Margaret. You could never be a burden."
She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. "I'm so tired, Brandon. This isn't where I expected to be in life. I thought Richard and I would grow old together happily. I was naive."
Brandon sat down beside her, listening.
"I should have seen the signs sooner," Margaret continued. "Richard and I met in high school. I was confused about why he even liked me—I wasn't popular or particularly pretty. But he paid attention to me when most people didn't."
She took a shaky breath. "Turns out he just wanted to sleep with me. Which backfired on him when we did and I got pregnant at sixteen."
Brandon felt his stomach drop. This explained so much about the family dynamics he'd never fully understood.
"When Richard's father found out, he nearly killed Richard. Literally. Beat him within an inch of his life." Margaret's voice was distant, remembering. "Then he made Richard bring me to their house, made me sign a bunch of documents I didn't really understand. Told us that when we graduated, we'd get married."
"That's horrible," Brandon said quietly.
"I think it was his way of making Richard take accountability for his reckless actions. Otherwise, Richard never would have married me." Margaret wiped her eyes. "But I was happy. I was going to have a child, and be with the man I thought I loved. I hoped for a beautiful life."
"But it wasn't beautiful."
"No. After the marriage, I met the rest of the family. They despised me. From their point of view, I was some poor girl who'd tricked Richard into marriage to get access to their money. They treated me terribly, and Richard never once stood up for me."
Brandon put his arm around her shoulders. "I'm so sorry, Margaret."
"The only good thing was Victoria. For the first thirteen years, raising her was wonderful. She was such a lovely, sweet girl." Margaret's voice cracked. "But when she became a teenager, Richard started influencing her. Slowly turning her against me, teaching her to see me the way his family did. Eventually... I lost her."
"You've had such a hard life," Brandon said gently. "But you deserve better than this. You should leave Richard. I can help you—money, housing, legal support, whatever you need."
Margaret looked down at her hands. "I can't."
"Margaret, yes you can. You don't have to—"
"Brandon, please." Her voice carried a finality that stopped his argument. "I appreciate everything you're offering, but I can't leave. It's complicated."
Brandon tried several more times to convince her, pointing out that she was only forty years old with potentially decades of life ahead of her. That she deserved safety and happiness. That staying with Richard was slowly destroying her.
But Margaret remained firm in her decision, and Brandon reluctantly realized that pushing harder would only cause her more distress.
"Can you drive me back?" she asked quietly.
Brandon's heart sank, but he nodded. "Of course."
The drive back to the Carter house was silent, both of them lost in their own thoughts. Brandon was frantically trying to think of ways to help Margaret that she might actually accept. Margaret was probably steeling herself to return to the environment that was systematically breaking her down.
As they pulled into the driveway, Brandon's stomach dropped. Richard's car was there, and both Richard and Victoria were getting out, apparently just arriving home themselves.
Richard's eyes locked onto Brandon's BMW, and even from this distance, Brandon could see the rage flooding his former father-in-law's face.