Chapter 3 - The Price of Privilege
The sound of police sirens echoed down East Huron Street twenty minutes later.
Outside Bellamy House, two patrol cars stood with their blue lights flashing against the polished stone facade. Paramedics worked inside the private back room, applying specialized burn dressings to Marin’s neck, shoulder, and cheek.
"Second-degree burns," the lead paramedic noted, wrapping a sterile bandage around Marin’s collarbone. "It’s going to blister, but if you keep it clean and use the ointment, the scarring should be minimal. You were lucky he got cold water on it immediately."
Marin looked up as Callum walked into the private room. He had already spoken with the police officers in the main foyer.
Outside, in the main lobby, Lenora was being escorted toward a police cruiser by two uniform officers. She was draped in a dark raincoat to hide her face from the three paparazzi photographers who had miraculously arrived within minutes of the call.
"How is she?" Callum asked the paramedic.
"She’ll live, Mr. Ashford. But she needs rest and follow-up care at the burn clinic."
Callum nodded, handed the paramedic a business card, and pointed toward the door. "Send the total bill to my private office. Everything."
Once the paramedics left, Marin sat alone on the small leather sofa with Callum standing near the desk. She felt utterly exhausted. The adrenaline that had sustained her through the chaos was wearing off, leaving behind a dull, throbbing ache along the right side of her body.
"Why did you do that?" Marin asked quietly, looking down at her lap.
Callum looked at her. "Do what?"
"You had your own wife arrested," Marin said, her voice barely above a whisper. "You could have swept this under the rug. People like you... people in your position always sweep things under the rug."
Callum walked over and sat down in the armchair across from her. He looked at the burn dressing on her neck, his jaw tightening slightly.
"My father built his business with his hands," Callum said calmly. "He taught me two things before he died. First, never throw a punch unless you intend to finish the fight. Second, wealth is a tool, not an excuse to be subhuman."
He paused, pulling a clean fountain pen from his breast pocket and writing a phone number on a slip of cream paper.
"Lenora has been cruel for a very long time," Callum continued, his voice dropping into a quiet, honest register. "I spent five years convincing myself she was just insecure. Today I saw what she actually is. You just happened to be the person standing in front of her when the mask fell off."
He handed the paper to Marin.
"This is my private legal team’s direct number," Callum said. "A prosecutor will contact you tomorrow morning. You are going to press charges."
Marin stared at the number. "Mr. Ashford... I can't afford a lawsuit against your family. I work fifty-seven hours a week just to pay my mother’s medical bills. If I miss work, I lose my apartment."
May you like
Callum leaned forward, his dark eyes meeting hers with absolute clarity.
"You won't lose anything," Callum said. "As of five minutes ago, you are no longer an employee of Bellamy House. You are on my private payroll as a key witness. Your salary will be tripled, starting today."
