Chapter 43: Recovering It All

Ruby stared at me, her jaw completely slack. "What... really?"

"Really," I said, keeping my voice calm and absolute. "We’re wiping the slate clean. No more debt, no more working under Travis."

For a second, the sheer weight of what I was offering seemed to break her brain. She looked at me as if waiting for the punchline, her eyes searching my face for any hint of a cruel joke. Then, a sudden, complicated shift crossed her expression. The defeated, exhausted corporate drone flickered away, replaced for a split second by a defensive, guarded instinct.

Her shoulders stiffened, and a slight, nervous flush crept up her neck. She took a half-step back, her eyes darting downward and then back to mine, her mind racing down a very different track.

"Wait..." Ruby stammered, her voice dropping to a hesitant, flustered whisper. "Sir... if you’re paying off a multi-million-dollar debt just like that... what do you expect from me? Are you... do you want me to be your... you know. At your estate?"

A slightly salacious, cheeky thought clearly flashed across her mind—the classic trope of the wealthy young boss buying a desperate woman’s freedom only to keep her locked up in his cliffside mansion as something more than an employee. Despite how terrified and broken she had felt just moments ago, a faint, mischievous flash of self-preservation and dark humor sparked beneath her heavy lashes.

I couldn’t help but laugh softly, holding my hands up.

"Whoa, pump the brakes," I said, shaking my head with a grin. "Nope, that is definitely not it. Put that thought right out of your head."

Ruby blinked, caught completely off guard, the tension in her shoulders melting into a mix of shock and quiet relief.

"I’m not looking for a captive, Ruby," I continued, stepping closer to meet her eyes. "I’m looking for talent that’s being wasted. You’re worth way more than sitting in a rundown apartment managing properties you never see a dime from. I’m investing in you because you’re brilliant—and because nobody deserves to have their life hijacked by a parasite like Travis."

Ruby stood by the passenger side of my car, staring at the sleek, custom-tuned interior with wide, mesmerized eyes. As I unlocked it and opened the door for her, she hesitated for a second before sliding into the low-slung, premium leather seat.

She ran a hand gently along the carbon-fiber dash, letting out a soft, awestruck breath.

"I have to confess, sir," Ruby murmured, looking around as the engine purred to life with a deep, low rumble. "This is actually the first time I’ve ever been inside a supercar in my entire life. Usually, I’m just selling multi-million-dollar garages for other people to park them in."

I glanced over at her with a reassuring smile as I shifted into gear and pulled away from the curb. "Well, consider it your official welcome upgrade. Get comfortable, Ruby—we’re going to go have a little chat with Travis."

We pulled up to Travis’s sprawling commercial headquarters downtown. When we walked into his high-end executive office, the veneer of the kind, smiling older gentleman evaporated the second he laid eyes on Ruby standing beside me in her modest clothes.

Travis leaned back in his leather chair, his face twisting into an expression of utter disgust and condescension. He didn’t even bother hiding his disdain.

"Ruby? What is the meaning of this?" Travis snapped, waving a hand dismissively as if she were an insect tracking mud across his pristine rug. "I thought you brought a client here for a serious acquisition, not dragging your personal baggage into my office. Get back to your desk before you embarrass yourself further."

Ruby flinched, instinctively shrinking back into her old subservient posture.

I stepped forward, putting myself squarely between Travis and her, and slammed both hands down on his polished mahogany desk. The sharp crack made him jump.

"We aren’t here for real estate, Travis," I said, my voice dropping into a cold, flat register. "We’re here to clear her debt. Give me the ledger. I want the total sum, and I’ll wire it right now."

Travis let out a dry, patronizing laugh, shaking his head. "Son, you bought a house, congratulations. But you are playing in water way over your head. This isn’t a game for little boys with new money. Stay out of things you don’t understand."

"I asked for a number," I repeated, my eyes locking onto his. "Don’t make me ask again."

His smile completely vanished, replaced by a venomous scowl as his fake corporate kindness snapped like dry twigs.

"You want a number?" Travis sneered, standing up and leaning over the desk. "Her father wrecked multi-million-dollar developments and looted my accounts. With compounded interest and penalties, she owes thirty million dollars. She couldn’t pay that off if she lived ten lifetimes, and neither can you, so—"

Ruby gasped, her face turning pale as paper, and she stepped forward, her voice trembling. "Thirty million? That’s impossible, Travis, the original project loss wasn’t even—"

Travis shot his hand out, cutting her off with a sharp, vicious wave. "Shut your mouth when I’m speaking, girl! You don’t have a voice in this room!"

Before his hand could even drop back down, I moved. I grabbed his wrist in a tight, unyielding grip, forcing him back against his leather chair with enough cold pressure to make his eyes widen in sudden panic.

"Nobody," I whispered, every single word laced with absolute, terrifying authority, "shuns her in front of me. And nobody raises a hand or a voice at her ever again."

Travis tried to yank his arm back, his face flushing a furious, ugly crimson as my grip held him locked in place. He glared up at me, chest heaving, but the raw, unfiltered panic in his eyes gave him away. He knew exactly what an independent forensic audit would uncover—every fabricated interest rate, every illegally withheld commission, and every penny he had squeezed out of Ruby under false pretenses.

"Let... let go of me," Travis choked out, his voice losing its thunderous edge, replaced by a desperate, cracking rattle.

I didn’t loosen my grip by a single millimeter. I leaned in closer, my voice low and venomous.

"I’ll ask you one last time, Travis. Give me the exact, unmanipulated figure. Or I walk out that door, call my legal team, and bring in federal auditors to tear every single one of your shell companies, tax filings, and ledger books apart down to the last cent. You’ll lose everything."

For five agonizing seconds, the room went dead silent. Ruby stood behind me, trembling so hard she could barely breathe, her hands clamped over her mouth as tears finally spilled down her cheeks.

Travis stared at me, calculating the destruction I could unleash. He knew my financial reach wasn’t a bluff; I had just dropped eight figures on his cliffside estate without breaking a sweat. If I dug into his books, his entire empire would crumble.

His knees buckled slightly as he sank back down into his leather chair, deflating like a punctured balloon. He pulled a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the heavy sweat from his forehead, his entire facade of power completely shattered.

"Fine," Travis whispered, his voice shaking with bitter defeat as he refused to meet my eyes. "There... there is no balance."

I narrowed my eyes. "Explain."

Travis swallowed hard, staring down at his polished mahogany desk. "The... the initial project losses were insured. The insurance payout covered the entirety of the debt years ago. Her father’s liability was wiped clean the day the claim settled."

Ruby gasped behind me, the sound cutting straight through the heavy air of the office.

"What?" Ruby breathed, stepping out from behind me, her voice breaking. "You... you told me I still owed millions. You said every commission I made was just chipping away at the interest!"

Travis couldn’t even look her in the eye. He shrank back into his chair, mumbling defensively. "The market was volatile... administrative fees, legal retainers... I just... I kept the ledger active. She was my best closer. If she was debt-free, she would have walked away from my firm years ago to build her own agency. I... I needed her locked down."

The sheer audacity of his manipulation made my blood boil. He had systematically stolen years of her life, trapped her in a cycle of manufactured poverty, and robbed her of millions in legitimate commissions—all just to keep a golden goose chained to his desk.

I released his wrist, stepping back and brushing off my hands as if I had touched something toxic.

"It’s over, Travis," I said, my voice cutting through the office like glass. "Every single dime you illegally withheld from her commissions starting from day one is getting wired back into her personal account by the end of the hour. If one cent is missing, or if you ever even look in her direction again, I won’t just audit you—I will strip you of every property you own."