Chapter 178: The Monze Group Is Completely Wiped Out

Sophia's POV

Monze Group's collapse came faster than I expected.

I sat in my office, watching news alerts scroll across my phone screen. The news about Monze Group's boss and Rita being taken away by police had already dominated the business section headlines, with comments full of cheers.

Justice may be delayed, but it never fails to arrive.

I put down my phone, my gaze falling on the darkening sky outside the window. This battle was finally over.

"Miss Spencer is back!"

Excited shouts came from outside the door, followed by thunderous applause.

I pushed open the door and walked into the office area. Everyone had stopped working, looking at me with almost worshipful eyes. It made me a bit uncomfortable—I've never liked being the center of attention.

Jane rushed up to me with a stack of data reports, her eyes red: "Miss Spencer, not only did we not lose money, we actually made three months' worth of profit! Our brand popularity is now number one across the entire internet!"

"That move you pulled at the press conference was absolutely brilliant!" another colleague said excitedly.

I nodded slightly, my voice calm: "Everyone's worked hard during this time. The crisis was resolved because the team stayed stable."

I turned to Jane: "Order from the best French pastry shop in the city, plus iced drinks. Put it on my personal account—afternoon tea is on me."

The office area instantly erupted in cheers.

Half an hour later, delicate macarons and mousse cakes filled the break room. The rich sweet aroma spread through the air, dispelling days of gloom. I stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the cheerful scene outside, and let out a soft breath.

The deadly situation with millions in losses was finally broken.

I took a sip of my iced Americano and pressed the intercom: "Jane, announce that everyone gets paid half-day leave this afternoon. We'll get back to it tomorrow."

"Yes, Miss Spencer!" Jane's voice was full of excitement.

Sure enough, once the leave announcement went out, the entire office area completely erupted.

At dusk, the sunset painted Washington's sky orange-red.

I was organizing files, preparing to leave work, when my phone suddenly vibrated. It was the front desk calling.

"Miss Spencer, there's a gentleman downstairs who wants to see you. He says he's your father." The receptionist's voice was somewhat hesitant.

My fingers paused on the keyboard.

Father?

I only had one father, and that was Logan.

"What does he look like?" I asked.

"A middle-aged man in a suit, but he looks really disheveled. He's very agitated, shouting in the lobby, saying you must see him."

Carl.

I closed my eyes, a cold smile forming at the corner of my mouth.

He finally couldn't hold out anymore.

"Let him come up," I said.

After hanging up, I stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the traffic below. I'd already heard about the Smith family's bankruptcy—the broken capital chain, banks demanding repayment, the whole company teetering on the edge.

And more deadly was that no one dared take over his assets.

This was Joshua's doing, I knew. He'd said he would teach the Smith family a small lesson, and apparently he'd kept his word.

A few minutes later, the office door was roughly pushed open.

Carl rushed in, looking completely disheveled. His expensive suit was wrinkled, his tie crooked, his hair messy, his eyes bloodshot.

The moment he saw me, he grabbed at me like a drowning man clutching at straws: "Sophia! You're finally willing to see me!"

I turned around, looking at him expressionlessly: "Mr. Smith, what can I do for you?"

Mr. Smith.

The form of address made his face stiffen, but he quickly suppressed his emotions and put on a flattering smile: "Sophia, are you still angry with me? I know I was wrong before, I shouldn't have treated you that way. But you have to understand, I was desperate at the time. The company had such big problems, I was confused for a moment..."

"Get to the point," I interrupted him, my voice cold.

I didn't have time for his nonsense.

Carl choked, but quickly switched to a pitiful expression: "Sophia, you know the Smith family is going through some difficulties now. Those banks are all demanding payment, I really have nowhere else to turn. You're doing so well at Spencer Group now, could you help your dad out? Just consider it for the sake of me raising you for twenty years..."

The debt of raising me.

He'd finally played that card.

I looked at him quietly, a mocking smile forming at the corner of my mouth: "Mr. Smith, when you talk about raising me, do you mean making me live in the servants' quarters, eat leftovers, wear Vivian's hand-me-downs, or do you mean throwing me out of the house without hesitation when I was falsely accused?"

The color drained from Carl's face: "Sophia, how can you say that? I admit I was somewhat biased before, but I raised you for twenty years after all! If it weren't for me, you would have..."

"Would have what?" I coldly interrupted him. "Would have died in an orphanage?"

I walked to my desk, pulled up a photo on my phone, and held it in front of him: "This is a photo of me at five years old. Look at the scar on my arm—that's from when Vivian pushed me down the stairs. Look at the handprint on my face—that's from when Gretl hit me. Is this what you call raising me?"

Carl opened his mouth but couldn't speak.

I put away my phone, my voice terrifyingly calm: "Mr. Smith, I admit that legally speaking, you raised me for twenty years. But during those twenty years, I didn't feel an ounce of warmth. You didn't want a daughter—you just wanted free labor and a punching bag. Now that you're bankrupt, you suddenly remember me? Sorry, I have no obligation to pay for your mistakes."

"Sophia!" Carl panicked. "You can't be so heartless! I really have nowhere else to turn! Those creditors block my door every day, I don't even dare go out! Just help me, as long as you help me, I'll agree to anything!"

I looked at his humble appearance, feeling nothing inside.

Once, I had longed for his approval and affection. But that naive girl had died, died the day he threw me out of the house.

"Mr. Smith, please leave," I said. "I still have work to do."

"Sophia!" Carl completely panicked. He rushed forward trying to grab my hand, but I coldly dodged him.

"Security," I pressed the intercom.

Two security guards quickly appeared at the door.

"Escort Mr. Smith out," I said. "From now on, without an appointment, don't let him in again."

"Yes, Miss Spencer."

Carl was dragged out by the security guards, still shouting unwillingly: "Sophia! You'll regret this! You ungrateful wretch! I raised you for twenty years, and this is how you repay me!"

The office door closed, and the world became quiet again.

I walked back to the floor-to-ceiling window, watching Carl being pushed out the door by security. He staggered away in the night, his retreating figure unspeakably pathetic.

I felt no sympathy.

Some debts have to be repaid.

I picked up my phone and dialed Logan's number.

"Dad," I said. "Carl just came to see me."

"I know," Logan's voice was gentle. "How did you handle it?"

"Had security throw him out."

"Well done," he said. "Sophia, you don't owe him anything."

After hanging up, I gathered my things to leave work.

Walking out of the office building, night had completely fallen. Washington's night was brilliantly lit, with traffic flowing like water.

I stood on the steps and took a deep breath.

My new life was just beginning.