CHAPTER 210: CHAPTER TWO HUNDRED AND TEN

Everyone in the room looked on, confused. Delia’s question hung in the air, a clever and unexpected move that had left them all momentarily speechless. Augusta’s fleeting smile had vanished, replaced by a look of wary uncertainty. She did not know what game Delia was playing, but she knew, with a sinking feeling, that it was not one she had prepared for.

Delia’s calm gaze swept across the room, meeting the eyes of the skeptical advisors. "I saw with my own eyes what my family’s greed and incompetence did to this establishment," she continued, her voice clear and steady. "I have no intention of repeating such mistakes."

She let that sink in before laying out her plan, a solution so sensible and professional it disarmed their every objection. "So, I plan on listening to the advisors who have worked with this company for a long time. I will value your experience and your counsel." She looked directly at Lord Ashworth and Lord Reginald, who seemed taken aback by this show of respect. "And after several discussions with them, and with their approval, I will invite a professional business expert to run Ellington Textiles. This person will manage the day-to-day operations until I am more knowledgeable and efficient enough to run this company myself."

A wave of relief and approval was almost visible as it washed over the room. The advisors, who had been preparing for a fight against a naive girl, were instead presented with a humble and intelligent strategy. They began to nod their heads, murmuring to one another in agreement.

Augusta saw her victory, once so certain, slipping through her fingers. She had to act. "How can you trust her?" she interjected, her voice sharp with desperation. "All she could be saying might be a lie! Words are cheap." She turned her venomous gaze on Delia. "If you want to convince the investors and advisors of Ellington Textiles, you need to back up your claims with more than just a pretty speech."

Before Delia could respond, Catherine stood up again. "I agree with Delia," she said, her voice ringing with a calm authority that instantly silenced the room. She smiled, a small, sad smile. "I am sorry, I didn’t introduce myself the last time. My name is Catherine Dalton."

The name fell into the room like a stone into a silent pool. To most, it meant nothing. But to Baron Edgar, it was everything. He had been watching the scene unfold, his heart swelling with pride for Delia. But at the sound of that name, all the air left his lungs. He stared at the woman, at her kind, familiar eyes, at the way she held herself. It couldn’t be.

Catherine looked at Delia, a clear and public show of support. "I am an investor in this fine establishment, and I have been following Delia for a while. I believe in her plan, and I believe in her." She then turned her gaze to Augusta, her expression hardening. "Although, the Baroness and I do have some unfavorable history."

"Catherine?" Edgar’s voice was a choked, disbelieving whisper.

Catherine turned to look at him, her own expression softening with a sorrow that spanned two decades.

Edgar tapped Delia’s arm, his hand trembling. "Delia," he whispered, his voice barely audible. "B... By chance, is she... is she?" He couldn’t finish the sentence. The hope was too immense, too terrifying to speak aloud.

Delia placed her hand over his. "I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, Grandfather," she said gently.

It was all the confirmation he needed. He looked back at Catherine, the woman he had wronged because of his personal greed, the woman his son had mourned for twenty three years. "You were alive," he breathed, the words a prayer of gratitude. Tears welled in his old eyes and began to trace paths down his wrinkled cheeks. "You were alive all this time."

Catherine gave him a small, pained glance.

"Thank goodness," Edgar whispered, gripping the edge of the table for support. "Thank goodness."

Catherine, her own emotions held in check by a will of iron, turned her attention back to the room. "Everyone here knows Baron Edgar to an extent," she said, her voice strong once more. "You have worked with him for years. Look at him now. So, I ask you, does he look mad, like Augusta claims?"

All eyes turned to Edgar, who, despite his tears, looked more lucid and full of life than he had in years.

Augusta’s lie lay exposed and dead in the center of the room.

Edgar, with the help of Delia and Eric, slowly steadied his feet. He looked at the faces of the men he had known for a lifetime, and he did not see the anger or judgment he expected. He saw only confusion and a flicker of sympathy. He knew what he had to do.

"I am a man with many issues," he began, his voice filled with emotion but steady with resolve. "I have done a lot of things that were wrong. I have caused others great pain because of my own greed and my pride." He looked at Catherine, a silent apology in his eyes. "When I finally realized it all, when I saw the damage I had done, it was too late."

He took a deep, shaky breath. "Now, even if it is too late to undo my past mistakes, I want to put everything back to where it belongs. I want to make things right." He looked around the room, his gaze pleading. "I know it is shameless of me to ask this, after everything. But just this once, I am asking you to please put your faith in me."

For a moment, the room was silent. And then, one of the junior advisors at the back of the room began to clap. Another joined in, and then another, until the entire room was filled with a warm, resounding applause.

Mr. Ashworth and Lord Reginald, their own eyes misty, went to the old Baron’s side. They each placed a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back, Baron," Lord Ashworth said, his voice full of genuine relief. "It is good to have you with us again."

Augusta just watched. She watched as her carefully constructed plan, the work of over twenty years of scheming and cruelty, crumbled into dust before her very eyes. She saw the family she had tried to tear apart reuniting. She saw the respect and power she had craved being freely given back to the man she had imprisoned. She saw her own allies comforting him. There was nothing left for her here. The game was over. She had lost.

Without a word, her face a blank mask of defeat, she picked up her small reticule from the table. She turned her back on the scene of her ruin and walked, with as much dignity as she could muster, out of the council room, the sound of the applause for her husband’s father chasing her all the way.

The door clicked shut behind her.

Eric leaned toward Delia and whispered, his eyes on the door Augusta had just exited. "Shouldn’t we go after her? She shouldn’t get away with this."

Delia looked at the closed door, a calm, knowing smile on her face. "Let her be," she replied quietly. "I know exactly where she’s going."