Chapter 12 - An Unexpected Knock
Saturday morning began with the rare luxury of sleeping in past seven o'clock.
I was curled up on the living room sofa with a cup of coffee and a thick manuscript I was editing for fun when a sharp, polite rap sounded at my front door.
I frowned, glancing at the clock. It was barely nine.
Securing my laptop, I walked over to the door and peered through the peephole.
Standing on my welcome mat was Arthur Beaumont, Nathan’s father.
He didn't look like the towering patriarch who had once treated me like a silent accessory in his family empire. He looked older, weathered by the sudden, violent collapse of his son’s career and the public unraveling of the Beaumont name. He wore a simple wool coat, his hands resting heavily on a polished wooden cane.
I unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the door open a few inches.
“Arthur,” I said neutrally. “What are you doing here?”
Arthur looked up, his eyes carrying a fragile, hesitant vulnerability I had never seen on his face before. “May I come in, Claire? Just for a few minutes. I won’t take up much of your time.”
I hesitated, then stepped back, pushing the door wide open. “Come on in.”
He stepped into the entryway, looking around the small, uncluttered living room with quiet curiosity. I gestured toward the kitchenette table, and he sat down stiffly on one of the wooden chairs.
“Can I get you some coffee or tea?” I asked, keeping my tone polite but guarded.
“No, thank you, Claire,” Arthur murmured, clasping his hands tightly over his cane. He took a deep, trembling breath. “I know I have no right to be here. After... after everything Nathan did, and how I enabled him for all those years.”
I leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing my arms. “You watched him treat me like a subordinate in my own company, Arthur. You laughed right along with his board members when they called my work 'decorative.'”
A heavy sigh escaped Arthur’s lips, his shoulders sagging beneath his coat.
“I know,” he whispered, his voice cracking. “I spent forty years building Beaumont & Hart on the belief that ruthless ambition was the only thing that mattered. I convinced myself that Nathan was the visionary and you were just... the background support. It was easier to look away than to admit how hollow our foundation had become.”
He looked up, meeting my eyes directly.
May you like
“Nathan is broken. He’s holed up in a cheap motel in Queens, blaming everyone but himself for losing everything. I just... I wanted to come and tell you that you were right. All along, you were the strength of this company.”
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