My husband cruelly assaulted me while i was pregnant in front of 300 people just for spilling wine on his shirt. he thought my father was a “retired old fool.” he didn’t know dad had bought the…
The ballroom of The Pierre Hotel on Fifth Avenue was ablaze with crystal chandeliers. Tonight was Marcus Sterling’s night—my husband’s. He had just closed a $500 million merger for his investment firm, Sterling Capital.
Over 300 guests—Wall Street sharks, politicians, and celebrities—were raising their glasses to toast him. Marcus stood in the center, shining in his custom-made Italian ivory tuxedo, champagne glass in hand, smiling with his characteristic arrogance.
I, Elena, eight months pregnant, stood huddled beside a marble column. My feet ached and were swollen in the high heels Marcus had forced me to wear.
“Stand up straight, Elena,” Marcus hissed through clenched teeth as he walked past me to greet a senator. “You’re embarrassing me. You look like a beached whale.”
I bit my lip, trying to hold back my tears.
In a secluded corner near the buffet table, my father – Arthur – sat quietly eating a canapé. He wore an old, outdated suit, bought ten years ago. He was a gentle retired man, a lifelong watchmaker in a small town in Ohio. Marcus always called him “the silly old country bumpkin” and only reluctantly invited him here for “family image” reasons.
“Elena, come here!” Marcus beckoned, motioning for me to bring a glass of red wine to his important business partner.
I tried to move as quickly as possible with my heavy pregnant belly. But the floor was slippery. A waiter accidentally bumped into my elbow.
I lost my balance.
CRASH!
The glass of red wine in my hand flew. The crimson liquid traced a beautiful but deadly arc in the air before landing squarely on Marcus’s pristine white tuxedo.
The entire room fell silent. The jazz music died down.
Marcus’s $10,000 suit now looked like the scene of a murder. He stood frozen, staring at the stained chest, then slowly looked up at me.
There was no concern for his wife in his eyes. Only the furious rage of a narcissist humiliated in front of a crowd.
“You…” Marcus roared.
He lunged forward. In front of 300 people, he didn’t hesitate to swing his arm.
A thunderous slap sent me tumbling to the floor.
I screamed, instinctively clutching my stomach to protect my unborn child. But Marcus didn’t stop. He furiously kicked me in the hip.
“Useless! You ruined my moment! Do you know how much this suit costs? You and your worthless family only know how to destroy!”
The crowd gasped in horror. A few women screamed. But no one dared intervene. Marcus Sterling was too powerful, too ruthless. No one wanted to mess with him.
I lay curled up on the floor, in pain and humiliation, tears mixing with the blood from the corner of my mouth.
“Where are the guards?” Marcus yelled. “Drag this woman out! And get that old man out too!” He pointed at my father. “Don’t let me see their faces!”
Chapter 2: The Intervention of the “Stupid Old Man”
“Stop.”
A voice rang out. Not loud, but sharp and cold, cutting through the chaos.
My father, Arthur, emerged from the crowd. He didn’t run. He walked slowly, but each step exuded an unusual authority I had never seen in the gentle watchmaker.
He came to me, helped me sit up, and wiped the blood from my mouth with a handkerchief.
“Father…” I sobbed. “I’m sorry…”
“It’s not your fault,” my father said softly, then straightened up and turned to face Marcus.
Marcus sneered, brushing the wine stain off his shirt. “So what, old man? What are you going to do? Hit me with your cane? Get back to your Ohio corner before I have someone throw you out.”
Arthur looked at Marcus. His eyes no longer held the dullness of old age. They were razor-sharp, the gaze of an eagle looking at a rat.
“You’re right, Marcus,” my father said, his voice calm. “I’m a retired old man. I’ve been retired for 20 years, raising my daughter in peace, away from this filthy world.”
He adjusted his worn suit collar.
“But you made two mistakes. First, you hit my daughter. Second, you think my retirement means I’m past my prime.”
Marcus frowned. “What are you rambling about?”
Arthur pulled a simple black phone from his breast pocket. He pressed a button.
“Come in,” he said curtly into the phone.
The large doors of the reception room swung open.
A group of men in black suits entered. They weren’t hotel security. They were New York’s top lawyers, accompanied by auditors and… the New York Police Chief.
Leading the group was Mr. Jameson, the most famous lawyer on Wall Street, the one Marcus had always dreamed of hiring but couldn’t afford.
Jameson walked straight to my father, bowing respectfully at a 45-degree angle.
“Mr. Chairman, everything is ready according to your orders.”
The entire room gasped. Chairman? This old watchmaker is the Chairman of what?
Marcus’s face turned pale. “Jameson? What are you doing here? And why are you bowing to this old man?”
My father didn’t answer. Mr. J
Jameson turned to Marcus, opening a thick file.
“Mr. Sterling,” the lawyer said. “You just mentioned you closed the $500 million merger for Sterling Capital, right?”
“Yes! I’m a genius!” Marcus tried to regain his composure.
“That deal was selling 51% of Sterling Capital to a private equity firm called Chronos Holdings,” Jameson said.
“So what? It’s an anonymous firm from Switzerland. They bid the highest!”
“Anonymous,” my father chimed in. He stepped closer to Marcus, looking him straight in the eye. “Chronos is the name of the god of time in Greek mythology. A fitting name for a watchmaker, don’t you think?”
Marcus recoiled, nearly falling. “No… no way…”
“I am the sole owner of Chronos Holdings,” my father declared, his voice booming. “And fifteen minutes ago, the very moment you raised your hand to hit my daughter, I signed the order completing the share transfer.”
He pointed to Marcus’s chest.
“You’re no longer the CEO. You no longer own this company. And the tuxedo you’re wearing… it was bought with a company credit card, right? So, technically, it’s mine too.”
Chapter 3: The Twist of Debt
Marcus trembled. He looked around for help, but his high-society “friends” were now averting their gaze, or looking at my father with fear and awe. They realized this man in the old suit was the real shark in the room.
“But… you can’t do that! My employment contract…” Marcus stammered.
“Your contract has an ethics clause,” my father interrupted. “Publicly assaulting a woman, especially a pregnant wife, is a serious violation. I am firing you immediately. No compensation.”
“And one more thing,” my father turned to the Sheriff.
“We did a quick audit of your books during the Due Diligence process,” my father said. “You embezzled $50 million from employee retirement funds to gamble on cryptocurrencies and lost it all. Do you think Chronos acquired the company without knowing that? I acquired the company to gain access to the original evidence.”
Marcus collapsed. He knelt on the cold floor, right where I had fallen.
My father knew it all. He wasn’t a poor watchmaker. He was Arthur Vance, the legendary venture capitalist who had “disappeared” from the market 20 years earlier after his wife’s death to live a quiet life raising his children. He had been silently observing Marcus, waiting for the opportunity to expose his son-in-law’s true face.
“Mr. Arthur Vance,” the Sheriff stepped forward, handcuffing Marcus. “Thank you for providing the evidence. Marcus Sterling, you are arrested for embezzlement, securities fraud, and first-degree assault.”
“Dad! I’m sorry! Father-in-law, save me!” Marcus cried, snot running down his face, crawling to my father’s feet. “It was an accident! I love Elena!”
My father looked at him with contempt. He said nothing, only gently brushed his hand away with the tip of his shoe, like one would brush away a dirty cockroach.
“I’m not your father,” he said. “And Elena isn’t your punching bag.”
Chapter End: Freedom
Marcus was dragged away amidst a forest of camera lenses. His career, his reputation, and his life ended in one night.
My father turned to help me up. I looked at my aging father, the man I once thought was weak, now standing tall like a mountain.
“Dad…” I choked out. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I wanted you to love someone for who you are, not for my money,” he wiped away my tears. “But I’m sorry for letting you suffer. I’m too late.”
“No, you’re right on time,” I smiled, hugging him and the baby in my womb tightly.
Mr. Jameson, the lawyer, approached. “Mr. Chairman, how should we handle this party? And… these 300 guests?”
My father looked around the room. Those who had been laughing when I was beaten were now holding their breath, awaiting the verdict of the new king.
“Send them all away,” my father said curtly. “I don’t like the hypocrisy here. And cancel all investment contracts with anyone in this room who didn’t speak up when my daughter was beaten.”
The entire room went pale. It was the most brutal economic punishment for New York’s elite.
My father helped me out of the hotel.
“Where are we going, Dad?”
“Back to Ohio,” he said. “I still have a watch shop that needs to open tomorrow morning. And you need a quiet place to give me a grandchild.”
“But what about the Sterling Corporation… no, your corporation?”
“I’ll hire a manager. I’m tired of this money game. I just like the ticking of the clock.”
We got into the car. The New York night was cold, but I felt incredibly warm.
My husband thinks my father is a “foolish old man.” He doesn’t know that my father didn’t just buy back his company. He bought back my freedom and dignity – at a price Marcus Sterling paid with the rest of his life in prison.
