Chapter 35
~ Clinton ~
Returning to the city wasn't part of my original plan; it was my father's.
Now a disgraced shell of the man he once was, he was the very person I had helped strip of his power under the Flemingtons.
As I drove toward the Harrington manor, I saw that the estate had become a shadow of its former self.
No gardeners patrolled the grounds as they had two years ago; instead, weeds and unwanted vines choked the fields.
I stepped out of the car and looked up at the mansion.
It possessed a ghastly, neglected image—all because my father had stopped caring the moment Franklin Flemington overthrew him.
And I was the one who had handed Franklin the keys.
In the foyer, I was met by Gertrude "Trudy" Oakley, the only soul who hadn't fled when the money dried up.
She had been with us through thick and thin, a surrogate mother to me after I lost my own as a child.
"Master Clinton!" she cried out, her face lighting up with genuine joy. "You're back."
