Page 30 of The Vows He Buried
“This isn’t about the law, Harper,” I said. “This is about power. She’s testing me. She wants to see if I’ll still cower when she summons me. If I don’t go, she’ll see it as a victory, a sign that I’m afraid of her. I’m not going there to negotiate. I’m going there to deliver a message.”
This was a battle I had to fight myself. It was the final confrontation with my abuser, the necessary epilogue to the psychological warfare she had waged against me for three years.
The next day, at precisely two forty-five, I walked into the gleaming, intimidating lobby of the Vale Global tower. This building was a monument to Evelyn’s ambition and Maddox’s legacy, a steel and glass behemoth that sought to dominate the Manhattan skyline. I had only ever entered it as Mrs. Vale, an appendage to its power. Today, I entered as an enemy combatant.
My armor was chosen with surgical precision. I wore a custom-made suit, not in a defiant color, but in a stark, unforgiving winter white. The jacket was sharply tailored with severe, architectural shoulders, the trousers wide-legged and flowing. It was a look of such stark, minimalist power that it made a statement through its absolute lack of ornamentation. It was the antithesis of Evelyn’s opulent, fussy style. On the ring finger of my right hand, my grandmother’s sapphire, my reclaimed heirloom, was a single, defiant splash of deep, twilight blue.
I announced myself to the receptionist, who looked at me with wide, curious eyes. “Savannah Blake to see Evelyn Vale.”
The ride up in the private elevator was a silent ascent into the heart of the beast. Evelyn’s office was on the top floor, a sprawling corner suite with panoramic views of Central Park. The office itself was a reflection of its occupant: cold, immaculate, and breathtakingly expensive. The desk was a massive slab of black marble. The walls were adorned not with art, but with framed magazine covers featuring Maddox and trophies of corporate conquest. It was a room designed to make anyone who entered feel small and insignificant.
Evelyn was not seated behind her desk. She was arranged in a seating area by the window, a silver tea service laid out on the low table before her. She rose as I entered, a vision of icy elegance in a Chanel suit, her smile as brittle and flawless as a pane of glass.
“Savannah, my dear,” she cooed, her voice dripping with false warmth. “I’m so glad you came. Please, sit. Earl Grey or Chamomile?”
“Neither, thank you,” I said, my voice cool and even. I did not sit. I remained standing in the center of the room, forcing her to look up at me. I would not be drawn into her performance of civility. “I’m not here for tea, Evelyn. Why did you ask me here?”
My directness clearly threw her. Her smile faltered for a fraction of a second before she recovered. “So direct,” she murmured, sinking back into her chair. “Very well. I asked you here because this… unpleasantness has gone on long enough. This public spectacle you’re creating. The annulment. The lawsuits. It’s unbecoming. For both of our families.”
“My family has nothing to be ashamed of,” I said. “As for yours… I think ‘unpleasantness’ is a rather mild word for fraud, conspiracy, and what was done to my child.”
The air in the room grew cold. The mask of the gracious matriarch fell away, revealing the hard, cruel face beneath.
“You were always so dramatic,” she sneered. “You lost a pregnancy. It happens. It was a tragedy, but you’re turning it into a weapon. A vulgar, greedy grab for money.”
“This was never about money,” I said, my voice dangerously quiet. “This is about truth.”
“Truth?” She let out a short, sharp laugh, a sound like ice cracking. “You wouldn’t know the first thing about truth. You came from nothing, a girl with a silly little hobby and a famous last name. We gave you everything. A position in society. A world you could only have dreamed of. We tried to polish you, to make you worthy of the Vale name.”
She leaned forward, her eyes narrowing into venomous slits. Her voice dropped to a low, contemptuous hiss.
“You were a mistake we tried to polish. But you’re still common.”
The insult, which would have once shattered me, now felt pathetic. It was the desperate attack of a woman who had run out of intelligent arguments. I didn't flinch. I didn't even blink. I simply looked at her, my expression one of mild, clinical curiosity, as if observing a particularly nasty insect under a microscope.
My silence unnerved her. She had expected tears, anger, a defensive outburst. She had expected the weak, emotional girlshe had so easily controlled. My utter lack of reaction was a language she didn’t understand.
She switched tactics, moving from insult to threat. “You need to stop this, Savannah. Now. Drop these ridiculous lawsuits. Go back to your… designing. Fade away quietly. If you don’t, I will be forced to take measures. There are things about your family, about your father’s business practices, that wouldn't stand up to public scrutiny. It would be a shame to see the Blake name dragged through the mud while he’s lying in that hospital bed.”
It was a vile, despicable threat, using my father’s life as a bargaining chip. The old me would have been terrified. The new me saw it for what it was: the desperate bluff of a player who knows she has a losing hand.
I took a slow, deliberate step towards her desk. I let the silence stretch, enjoying the flicker of uncertainty, of fear, in her cold eyes.
“That’s an interesting theory, Evelyn,” I said finally, my voice soft and conversational. “That I’m the one who should be afraid of public scrutiny.”
I walked over to her massive marble desk and ran a single finger over its polished surface, leaving a faint streak. “You see, you’re operating under a misapprehension. You think this is still your world, that you still make the rules. You think I’m a common girl who stumbled into a world of power. But you’ve forgotten something.”
I turned to face her, a slow, cold smile spreading across my lips. “Common women don’t build fashion empires from scratch. Common women don’t face down a boardroom of corporatesharks and win. Common women don’t have the kind of evidence I have.”
I saw a flicker of genuine fear in her eyes then. She didn't know what I had. She couldn't possibly imagine the depth and breadth of the criminal case we were building against her.
“I’m not here to prove my worth to you, Evelyn,” I continued, my voice dropping to a near whisper. “I’m not here to trade threats. I’m here to inform you. The world you built, this empire of lies and intimidation, is over. The game has changed. And you… you have already lost.”
I straightened up, turning to leave. I had said everything I needed to say. The message had been delivered.
“You will regret this!” she shrieked from behind me, her voice cracking, her carefully constructed composure finally shattering. “I will destroy you! I will ruin you and your pathetic little family! You will end up with nothing!”
I paused at the door, my back to her. I didn’t turn around.
