The Heiress Kicked the Tray From the Maid’s Hands — Until Three Elderly Guests Recognized the Scar on Her Wrist

"Grayson, I didn't know!" Brooke shrieked hysterically, completely abandoning her elegant facade. Tears ruined her flawless makeup as the flashes of a hundred news cameras captured her complete public destruction. "I thought she was a threat! I was protecting the hotel!"

"You were protecting your ego," Grayson replied coldly, entirely immune to her fake tears.

He didn't yell. A quick outburst was far too generous for a monster who preyed on the quiet.

"As the majority stakeholder of the Richmond Grand and its parent company," Grayson announced to the press, "I have instructed my legal team to sever all ties with the Hathaway fundraising family. We are pulling all corporate sponsorships from her father's political campaigns."

Brooke’s knees buckled. She gripped the podium to keep from collapsing.

"Furthermore," Grayson continued ruthlessly, "I am filing civil charges against Brooke Hathaway for corporate espionage, unauthorized access to federal documents, and targeted harassment."

"No! You can't do this to me!" Brooke wailed, sobbing uncontrollably.

But it was already done. Her family’s political empire was completely destroyed. The donors in the room were already texting their assistants to cut all ties with the Hathaways.

Brooke was entirely, permanently bankrupt and socially exiled. She grabbed her white dress and sprinted out the side door, weeping hysterically, her arrogant life violently swallowed into ruin.