Chapter 168 The Weight of a Broken Empire
Carson sat alone in his study, staring blankly at the glass of whiskey in his hand. The ice had melted long ago, leaving only a dull amber color swirling slowly in the dim light. His head throbbed, his mind heavy with thoughts he couldn’t silence.
The room was cold. The fireplace across from him had gone out hours ago, leaving behind only ashes and faint smoke. He leaned back in the armchair, closing his eyes, but the silence pressed on him until he felt suffocated.
Victoria’s words echoed in his mind — “Marry Bridget again. It’s our only hope.”
He ran a hand down his face and groaned. “She’s lost her mind,” he muttered, though a part of him knew she hadn’t.
The truth was simple. The McCoy empire was crumbling, and there was no one to blame but himself.
He glanced toward the desk covered in documents — unpaid bills, rejected proposals, and warnings from the bank. He had once prided himself on being in control, on being the man who could handle anything. Now, even his reflection in the window looked like a stranger — pale, tired, and beaten.
The phone on the desk buzzed suddenly, making him flinch. He reached for it slowly.
“Carson McCoy,” came the voice on the other end. It was a former business partner, a man who had once looked up to him. “I’m sorry, but we can’t keep the deal going. Investors have backed out. It’s too risky now.”
Carson closed his eyes. “I understand,” he said quietly.
“Listen,” the man continued awkwardly, “if things change, maybe we can talk again. But right now… it’s over.”
Carson forced a small nod even though no one could see it. “Sure. Thanks for letting me know.”
The call ended, and the silence returned — louder than before.
He set the phone down slowly, then slammed his fist on the table, sending papers flying. “Damn it!” he shouted. His voice cracked with frustration. “Damn everything!”
He stood up abruptly, pacing the floor. His steps were uneven, restless. The image of Anabelle flashed in his mind — her calm eyes, her voice steady as she had told him it was over.
“You destroyed me, Carson,” she had said. “But I won’t let you destroy me again.”
Her words had stung, not because they were cruel, but because they were true.
He walked to the window and stared out at the dark sky. The city lights shimmered faintly in the distance, mocking him. Somewhere out there, Anabelle was thriving, living the life he had crushed and then lost.
“She’s happy now,” he whispered bitterly. “Without me.”
He rubbed his temples, remembering how she had once looked at him with admiration and trust. He had thrown all that away. He thought he was powerful then — untouchable. But power had turned to poison, and now he was choking on it.
His thoughts drifted to Bridget — her face red with fury at the altar, her screams echoing in his mind. “You’ll regret this!” she had shouted. “You’ll regret humiliating me!”
And she had been right too.
Carson sank onto the couch, his head in his hands. “What have I done?” he murmured.
The door creaked open behind him. He didn’t turn. Victoria’s heels clicked softly against the marble floor.
“Carson,” she said sharply, “it’s almost noon. Have you thought about what I said?”
He didn’t answer.
She folded her arms. “Don’t ignore me. We don’t have time for your silence.”
“I’m thinking,” he said without looking up.
“Thinking won’t save us,” she snapped. “Action will.”
He lifted his head slowly. His eyes were bloodshot, tired. “You really believe Bridget’s family will forgive me?”
“They might,” she said coldly. “If you swallow your pride and do what’s necessary.”
He gave a humorless laugh. “You mean beg.”
“Yes,” she replied flatly. “Beg if you have to.”
He stared at her, disgusted. “You’d have me crawl just to keep your name shining?”
Victoria’s voice trembled with restrained anger. “It’s not just my name. It’s yours too. Everything your father built will vanish, Carson. Gone. Do you even care?”
He stood, towering over her, though his voice stayed quiet. “Maybe it’s what I deserve.”
She froze. “What did you say?”
He turned toward the window again. “I ruined Anabelle’s life. I destroyed any chance I had with Bridget. I’ve made every wrong decision possible. Maybe it’s time it all came crashing down.”
Victoria stepped closer, her voice softening. “Don’t say that. You can still fix this.”
He shook his head. “Fix it? How do you fix something that’s already dead?”
“You rebuild,” she said, almost pleading. “You always rebuild.”
Carson laughed bitterly. “You really don’t understand, do you? The empire you love so much—it was built on people like me pretending we had everything under control. But we don’t. I don’t.”
Victoria’s jaw tightened. “You’re being dramatic.”
“No,” he said, turning to face her fully. “I’m being honest—for once.”
They stood in silence for a long moment. The ticking clock filled the space between them.
Finally, Victoria said softly, “If you walk away now, you’ll lose everything. You’ll regret it for the rest of your life.”
Carson’s voice broke slightly. “I already regret everything, Mother.”
Her lips pressed into a thin line. “Then stop running from it.”
He looked at her tired face, realizing that she wasn’t just angry—she was scared. For the first time, he saw the woman beneath the armor, and she looked fragile.
He sighed heavily and rubbed his forehead. “If I go to Bridget,” he said slowly, “she’ll humiliate me in front of everyone.”
“Maybe,” Victoria admitted. “But at least you’ll have tried.”
He gave a short laugh. “Tried. That’s all I ever do lately.”
She didn’t reply. She just watched him, waiting.
After a long silence, Carson walked to the liquor cabinet and poured himself another drink. He stared at it for a moment, then set it down untouched.
“Maybe it’s time I stop hiding behind this,” he said quietly.
Victoria blinked, surprised. “Then what will you do?”
He looked out the window once more. “I don’t know. But I can’t keep pretending I’m the same man I was.”
She opened her mouth to argue, but the look on his face stopped her. It wasn’t anger anymore—it was exhaustion, deep and heavy.
Carson walked past her toward the door. “I’ll figure something out,” he said.
“Carson—”
He paused but didn’t turn.
“Don’t wait too long,” she said softly.
He nodded once and left.
The door closed with a quiet click. Victoria stood alone in the study, staring at the untouched glass on the table. The house felt colder now, emptier.
Outside, Carson walked into the fading afternoon light, his hands in his pockets. The weight of the world hung on his shoulders—the empire he had broken, the people he had hurt, and the ghosts of every choice he had ever made.
For the first time, he didn’t feel powerful or angry.
He just felt… tired.