Chapter 12 - Brenda's Desperate Begging and the Final Rejection
Two days later, while I was reviewing clinical trial schedules in my new executive office on the top floor of the Howard Tower, my assistant buzzed my intercom.
“Dr. Miller, there is a visitor in the private reception lobby requesting five minutes. She claims it’s an urgent personal matter.”
I frowned slightly. “Who is it?”
“Brenda Foster. She signed the visitor log under a false name, but security identified her immediately. Should we have her removed?”
I paused, looking out over the panoramic glass window overlooking the San Antonio skyline.
“No,” I said calmly. “Send her in.”
Ten seconds later, the double oak doors opened. Brenda walked in, but she was unrecognizable from the arrogant, venomous woman who had stood at the top of the country club stairs.
Her designer clothes were gone, replaced by a cheap, wrinkled cardigan. The haughty smirk had vanished, replaced by hollow, sunken cheeks and desperate, red-rimmed eyes.
She stood in the center of the vast, luxurious office, her hands clutching her purse like a lifeline.
“Samantha,” Brenda whispered, taking a trembling step toward my desk.
“Mrs. Foster,” I said coldly, remaining seated behind my mahogany desk, not offering her a chair. “You have three minutes before security removes you from this building.”
Brenda’s knees gave out. She fell to her knees right on the imported wool rug, weeping uncontrollably.
“Please, Samantha! I’m begging you on my knees!” Brenda sobbed, pressing her hands together in supplication. “Andrew has been in jail for two weeks! He’s getting sick! The other inmates are terrifying! His company is bankrupt, the IRS has frozen all our accounts, and Gemma’s family is suing us for fraud!”
“And what does that have to do with me?” I asked, my voice as smooth and unyielding as polished marble.
“You loved him!” Brenda cried out, looking up with streaming tears. “You spent two years with him! You were going to be my daughter! How can you be so cruel? How can you watch the man you loved rot in prison while you sit up here in luxury with Zachary Howard?”
I leaned forward, resting my forearms on the desk, looking down at her with piercing clarity.
“I didn't put Andrew in prison, Brenda. Andrew put himself in prison when he stole my research, forged my name, and treated my life like a disposable piggy bank.”
“He made a mistake!” Brenda shrieked. “He was insecure because you made more money than him! He was weak, but he’s still my boy!”
“He is a thirty-five-year-old criminal,” I corrected her sharply. “And you were the architect of his entitlement. You taught him that taking what belongs to others is acceptable. You stood at the top of those wedding stairs, laughing in my face while I was still covered in the blood of a six-year-old child I had saved. You told me I had no right to play the victim.”
I stood up, walking around the desk to stand over her.
“You chose Gemma because her father had a law firm. You chose greed over honor. And now, you are paying the bill.”
Brenda stared at me, realizing there was not a single crack in my armor. Not a shred of naive guilt left to exploit.
“You’re a monster,” Brenda hissed, her tears turning back into venomous hatred. “A cold-hearted, unfeeling monster!”
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“No, Brenda,” I said, pressing the intercom button on the wall. “I am a surgeon. And I have officially cut you out of my life.”
The office doors opened, and two armed Howard Tower security officers lifted Brenda from the floor and carried her out of the room, her muffled curses fading down the hallway until total peace returned to the room.
