Chapter 12 - The Nightmare of the Whitmore Family
Meanwhile, inside the opulent and expansive mansion of the Whitmore family in the affluent West End, a heavy, suffocating atmosphere hung like an early funeral.
Bianca was sprawled facedown on the Italian velvet sofa, sobbing hysterically to the point where her expensive makeup and mascara were smeared across her face, creating unsightly black streaks. Standing beside her was Denise, her complexion as pale as a dead banana leaf, her trembling hands frantically dialing one business partner and high-society contact after another in a desperate bid to salvage their shattered reputation.
"Mom! I can’t live with this humiliation!" Bianca screamed, grabbing a decorative throw pillow and hurling it violently against the glass wall. "Every single socialite in our circle has been messaging me, mocking me, asking what kind of trashy family Caleb comes from to be thrown out onto the street like stray dogs by the owner of Obsidian Point herself! How am I supposed to show my face at any parties or meet anyone ever again?!"
At that exact moment, the heavy front doors swung wide open. Caleb stumbled inside, his limbs uncoordinated, his face drained of every drop of blood, and his eye sockets hollow from an entirely sleepless night.
"You still have the nerve to step foot back in this house, you useless parasite?!" Victor Whitmore, Bianca’s father, descended the stairs with heavy strides, his face purple with rage. "I just heard that your pathetic stunt caused our family to lose all standing among two hundred elite guests! The five-million-dollar supply contract between my company and the municipal infrastructure fund... they just sent an email unilaterally cancelling it!"
Denise staggered in sheer disbelief, rushing forward to grab her husband’s arm. "Cancelled?! Why on earth would they do that? They initialed the draft agreement just last week!"
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Caleb pressed his dry, chattering lips together, his teeth clicking audibly: "Because... because the primary stakeholder and ultimate decision-maker behind those infrastructure projects... is... is my sister."
The massive living room plunged into a dead, suffocating silence. The Whitmores had spent a lifetime wielding wealth, power, and condescension to trample on everyone beneath them, never in their wildest dreams imagining they would suffer such a catastrophic, humiliating fall simply because they dared to look down on a woman they dismissed as a "poor relation in a thrift-store dress."
