I went back only to grab my glasses, and froze when I found my daughter being humiliated by her mother-in-law right in front of her husband.<\/p>\n
They demanded I sell my “pathetic little workshop” for a $50,000 charity buyout \u2014 never guessing it was the billion-dollar lifeline keeping their entire empire afloat.<\/p>\n
But when I opened a locked box and my daughter begged me to hide it, I realized the insults were only a cover for a far more terrifying betrayal.<\/p>\n
I had only gone back for my reading glasses.<\/p>\n
They were probably sitting beside the antique porcelain lamp in the foyer of the Vance estate, right where I’d absentmindedly left them after dropping off a homemade pie for my daughter, Clara, that afternoon.<\/p>\n
I expected to be inside the house for less than thirty seconds.<\/p>\n
Instead, I froze in the grand entryway.<\/p>\n
The heavy oak doors had masked the sound, but inside, a sharp, echoing voice shattered the afternoon quiet.<\/p>\n
I crept forward, staying hidden behind the archway to the sunken living room.<\/p>\n
Clara was on her knees beside a jagged marble coffee table, frantically gathering dozens of crumpled documents, her hands shaking. Standing over her was her mother-in-law, Beatrice Vance.<\/p>\n
“A woman of your background should wake up every day thanking God my Liam was generous enough to marry you,” Beatrice sneered, her voice dripping aristocratic venom.<\/p>\n
“You can’t even file a few simple corporate documents without making a mess. You are entirely useless, Clara.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Clara didn’t snap back. She didn’t stand up. She only looked toward her husband.<\/p>\n
Liam Vance, the CEO of Vance Manufacturing, sat on a cream Italian leather sofa, slowly swirling a glass of bourbon and scrolling through his phone as if his wife weren’t being humiliated on the floor in front of him.<\/p>\n
“Mom’s right, Clara,” he said, not lifting his eyes from the screen. “You make everything harder than it needs to be. Honestly, carrying you and your mother’s embarrassing lower-class baggage is exhausting. Speaking of which \u2014 you need to convince Eleanor to sell that pathetic little auto-parts shack of hers to us. I’m tired of my associates knowing my mother-in-law changes spark plugs for a living.”<\/p>\n
“It’s not just a shack, Liam,” Clara whispered, trembling. “It’s my father’s legacy.”<\/p>\n
“It’s a rusted eyesore,” Liam snapped, finally looking at her with open disgust.<\/p>\n
“Tell her I’ll give her fifty thousand for the land. She can take the charity and go live in a retirement home. If you can’t even manage that, Clara, I don’t know why I keep you around.”<\/p>\n
For one terrible second, every maternal instinct in my body screamed at me to march into that room, grab Clara, slap the bourbon out of Liam’s hand, and tell them exactly who I was.<\/p>\n
But I knew my daughter. If I intervened now, her trauma-bonded mind would defend them.<\/p>\n
She’d say Beatrice just had a migraine. She’d insist Liam was only stressed about the supply chain.<\/p>\n
I couldn’t just save her. I had to wake her up.<\/p>\n
I stepped back and slipped out the front door, silent as a ghost.<\/p>\n
I walked down the long, manicured driveway to my ten-year-old Honda sedan, my hands shaking \u2014 not from fear, but from a rage so cold it burned.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I got in, locked the doors, and pulled out my phone.<\/p>\n
I dialed Julian Hayes, the Chief Operating Officer of Holloway Global Components.<\/p>\n
“Mrs. Holloway,” Julian answered on the first ring. “Is something wrong?”<\/p>\n
I stared through the windshield at the mansion where my daughter was suffocating.<\/p>\n
“Julian,” I said, my voice eerily calm. “Cancel every open order with Vance Manufacturing. Call in every outstanding balance. No extensions. No grace periods.”<\/p>\n
Julian hesitated. “Eleanor\u2026 they depend on us for seventy percent of their annual revenue. We’re their lifeline. If we pull their contracts today, they’ll face bankruptcy within two weeks.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I turned the ignition, the engine purring. “Do it,” I said.<\/p>\n
“Understood,” Julian said. “But Eleanor \u2014 Liam Vance has been begging for a meeting at headquarters tomorrow. If we cut him off now, he’s going to come kicking and screaming to our lobby.”<\/p>\n
The Vance family believed I owned a failing auto-repair shop on the dusty outskirts of Charlotte.<\/p>\n
It wasn’t entirely a lie. Thirty years ago, my late husband Richard and I started in a grease-stained garage.<\/p>\n
But Richard was a genius with patents, and I was ruthless with investments.<\/p>\n
By the time he passed, that single garage had grown into Holloway Global Components \u2014 a multi-billion-dollar empire of factories and supply chains across North America. I remained the sole Chairwoman.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
When Clara got engaged to Liam, she begged me to keep it a secret. “I want him to love me for me, Mom. Not for Holloway Global.”<\/p>\n
So I honored her wish, wearing cheap cardigans and driving an old car to their country-club dinners, playing the part of the poor, uneducated widow.<\/p>\n
The morning after I ordered Julian to cut Vance off, I was at my modest kitchen table sipping tea when a sleek black Mercedes pulled into my driveway.<\/p>\n
Beatrice Vance stepped out in a cashmere coat that cost more than the house she thought I lived in. She didn’t knock. She pushed my front door open.<\/p>\n
“Eleanor,” she sighed, waving a hand in front of her nose as if my home smelled of garbage. “I found your cheap reading glasses in my foyer. Try not to leave your clutter in my home.”<\/p>\n
She tossed the glasses onto my counter \u2014 and as she did, her eyes snagged on something beside my notepad.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A Montblanc diamond-encrusted fountain pen, a gift from a European CEO, worth about ten thousand dollars. I’d left it out after signing some trust documents.<\/p>\n
Beatrice picked it up, scoffing. “Goodness. You buy cheap knock-offs of luxury pens? How pathetic. Trying to pretend you’re something you’re not.”<\/p>\n
She dropped it with a clatter. “Listen to me, Eleanor. Liam is having a hard day \u2014 some arrogant supplier is trying to ruin his business, and he needs capital. You are going to sign your little scrap-metal property over to us today. Liam is offering fifty thousand. Take the charity before he rescinds it.”<\/p>\n
“I’ll think about it,” I said, keeping my face blank.<\/p>\n
“Don’t think. Just do,” she sneered, turning on her heel.<\/p>\n
That evening, Clara came over. She looked exhausted, her eyes rimmed with red.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Without a word, she reached into her oversized tote and pulled out a heavy, locked wooden box.<\/p>\n
“Mom,” she whispered, glancing out the window as if she were being followed. “Please hide this for me. Liam keeps demanding the key, and he gets\u2026 so angry when I say I lost it. I don’t feel safe with it in the house.”<\/p>\n
“Clara, what’s in this?” I asked, my heart hammering.<\/p>\n
“Just\u2026 household finances. Please, just hide it.”<\/p>\n
She left soon after, too frightened to stay.<\/p>\n
As soon as her taillights faded down the street, I took a heavy iron fireplace poker and smashed the brass lock.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Inside was a hard drive, corporate seals, and a stack of federal tax documents for a company I’d never heard of: Blue Lantern Logistics.<\/p>\n
I scanned the papers. Clara was listed as the sole owner and guarantor. But it wasn’t just a loan.<\/p>\n
Blue Lantern had been signing off on counterfeit airplane components, using Clara’s identity to bypass safety regulations. Millions of dollars in illegal, untaxed revenue were flowing through it.<\/p>\n
If this blew up, Vance Manufacturing would be fine. But Clara would face twenty years in a federal penitentiary for fraud and tax evasion.<\/p>\n
My phone buzzed. Julian.<\/p>\n
“Eleanor,” he said, tense. “Liam Vance just walked into our corporate lobby. He’s demanding to see the Chairwoman.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“Keep him in the lobby,” I told him. “Don’t let him past security. I’m coming in.”<\/p>\n
I changed out of my “poor widow” cardigan into a tailored navy-blue Armani suit.<\/p>\n
I had my driver bring the armored Bentley to the back of the house, far from prying eyes, and we sped toward downtown Charlotte.<\/p>\n
At the towering glass skyscraper of Holloway Global, I came in through the private underground garage, took the executive elevator to the mezzanine, and stood behind a frosted glass partition overlooking the grand lobby.<\/p>\n
There was Liam Vance.<\/p>\n
The arrogant, untouchable golden boy of Charlotte’s elite was sweating through his bespoke suit, practically shouting at the front-desk receptionist.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“I don’t care if the Chairwoman doesn’t take unscheduled meetings!” he barked, his face red.<\/p>\n
“Vance Manufacturing is your oldest client! You cut our supply chain overnight! I need to see Mrs. Holloway right now!”<\/p>\n
Julian Hayes stepped into the lobby, calm and lethal. “Mr. Vance. I’m the COO. The Chairwoman is unavailable to men who default on their payments. We’re done doing business with you.”<\/p>\n
“You can’t do this!” Liam yelled, his voice cracking.<\/p>\n
I smiled coldly from the balcony and watched two massive security guards escort him out.<\/p>\n
He had no idea the “embarrassing” mother-in-law he wanted to buy out for fifty thousand dollars was the woman destroying his life.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I went up to my penthouse office and laid Clara’s wooden box on the mahogany conference table.<\/p>\n
Julian and our legal team went to work, and within three hours he’d uncovered the rest of the rot.<\/p>\n
“It’s worse than we thought, Eleanor,” Julian said, sliding a tablet toward me. “Blue Lantern isn’t just shielding Vance’s counterfeit liabilities. We tracked the stolen money. It’s being funneled into an offshore account owned by a woman named Chloe Mercer.”<\/p>\n
“Who is Chloe Mercer?”<\/p>\n
“An executive at Apex Industries. And according to these private-jet manifests and hotel receipts, she’s been Liam Vance’s mistress for the last three years.”<\/p>\n
He pulled up a photo \u2014 Chloe, blonde, sharp, draped in diamonds. “Liam’s plan is textbook. He’s drowning his own company’s toxic debt in Clara’s name. Once the feds bust Blue Lantern, Clara goes to prison, Liam walks away clean, declares bankruptcy, and marries Chloe using the millions he stole through your daughter.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
A terrifying silence fell over the room. I didn’t cry. I didn’t scream. I felt a sudden, absolute clarity.<\/p>\n
“Call Clara,” I said. “Tell her a private investigator hired by a bank wants to meet her at the safe house. Don’t tell her it’s me.”<\/p>\n
Two hours later, Clara walked into a soundproof room at a high-end hotel I owned. When she saw me at the table instead of an investigator, she froze.<\/p>\n
I pushed the Blue Lantern documents toward her, along with the photos of Liam kissing Chloe Mercer in Paris.<\/p>\n
Clara collapsed into the chair. She didn’t look at the fraud documents. She only looked at the photos of her husband with another woman, the illusion of her marriage shattering in real time. A gut-wrenching sob tore from her throat.<\/p>\n
“He told me I was the reason we were struggling,” she choked out, tears ruining her blouse. “He said if I just signed the papers, we could be happy.”<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I walked over, pulled her head to my chest, and kissed her hair. “A marriage that only survives because one person is too terrified to ask questions is a hostage situation, my sweet girl. And you are not a hostage anymore.”<\/p>\n
Clara looked up, her eyes hardening with a fresh, unfamiliar anger. “What do we do, Mom? If he finds out I know, he’ll destroy the evidence. I’ll go to jail.”<\/p>\n
“We need a confession,” I said. “A recording of him admitting he forged your name and set you up. But it means you have to go back into that house tonight.”<\/p>\n
Clara swallowed hard and wiped her tears. “I’ll do it.”<\/p>\n
We equipped Clara with a micro-recorder hidden inside a pearl pendant.<\/p>\n
That night I sat in an unmarked surveillance van three blocks from the Vance estate, listening through an earpiece with Julian beside me.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
Through the feed, I heard the heavy front door open.<\/p>\n
“Where the hell have you been?” Liam barked.<\/p>\n
“At my mother’s,” Clara said. Her voice was remarkably steady. I felt a surge of pride.<\/p>\n
“Did you get her to sign the property over?” Liam demanded, ice clinking in a glass. “I have investors coming to our charity gala tomorrow night. I need collateral.”<\/p>\n
“She won’t sell, Liam.”<\/p>\n
A loud crash \u2014 Liam had thrown his glass against the wall. I half-stood in the van, gripping the door handle, but Julian held up a hand, urging me to wait.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
“You are useless!” Liam shouted. “Everything is falling apart! Holloway Global cut us off. If I don’t secure funding at tomorrow’s gala, we’re dead. And I need the key to that wooden box, Clara. Where is it?”<\/p>\n
“Why do you need it so badly?” Clara asked, pushing him exactly as we’d rehearsed. “I saw a document with the name Blue Lantern. I didn’t sign that, Liam. You forged my signature, didn’t you?”<\/p>\n
The silence was heavy enough to choke on. Then Liam let out a dark, cruel laugh.<\/p>\n
“So you finally opened your eyes. Yes, Clara, I signed your name. I moved the defective inventory liabilities to Blue Lantern. And you know what? No one will believe you. You’re the sole guarantor. If this ship goes down, I’m putting you on it. So give me the damn key before I make things very ugly for you.”<\/p>\n
Got him.<\/em><\/p>\n “I don’t have it,” Clara whispered. “I threw it in the river.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “You stupid bitch,” Liam hissed. “Get out of my sight. Pack your bags for the gala tomorrow. We’re going to smile for the cameras, and then I’m done with you.”<\/p>\n In the van, Julian pulled off his headphones and began backing the audio up to three separate servers.<\/p>\n “We have the federal confession,” he said. “He just admitted to fraud, forgery, and extortion. The FBI will have a field day.”<\/p>\n “No,” I said, looking out toward the skyline. “The feds can have him tomorrow. Tonight, I want to watch him bleed.”<\/p>\n I pulled out my phone and looked at the digital invitation Clara had forwarded.<\/p>\n The Vance Manufacturing Charity Gala \u2014 hosted to woo a mysterious “angel investor,” someone Liam hoped would save him from the wrath of Holloway Global.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n He’d even instructed his assistant to send a blind invitation to the “Chairwoman of Holloway,” begging for a second chance.<\/p>\n “Julian,” I said, a dangerous smile touching my lips. “Call Liam’s assistant. Tell him the Chairwoman of Holloway Global accepts his invitation. And tell my stylist I need the most expensive gown in Charlotte.”<\/p>\n The ballroom of the Ritz-Carlton was dripping in crystal chandeliers and desperate arrogance.<\/p>\n Liam and Beatrice Vance stood near the entrance, greeting Charlotte’s elite with plastic smiles.<\/p>\n Liam looked frantic, checking his watch, waiting for the mythical savior of Holloway Global to walk through the doors.<\/p>\n Clara stood slightly behind them in a simple black dress, clutching her purse. She knew what was coming.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n At eight, my Bentley pulled up to the red carpet.<\/p>\n I did not look like Eleanor the widow who fixed alternators.<\/p>\n I was draped in a custom emerald-green Oscar de la Renta gown, real diamonds cascading from my ears and throat \u2014 worth more than Liam’s entire failing company.<\/p>\n My hair was professionally styled, my posture forged from thirty years of ruling boardrooms. Julian, in a sharp tuxedo, escorted me up the steps.<\/p>\n As we walked through the golden doors, a hush fell over the crowd. People stared.<\/p>\n Beatrice noticed the commotion. She squinted, her face morphing from polite curiosity to absolute horror as she recognized me.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n She marched over and grabbed my arm, trying to drag me into a corner.<\/p>\n “Eleanor! What in God’s name are you doing here?” she hissed, eyes darting around. “Did you rent this dress? Are you insane? This is a billionaire’s gala! You’re embarrassing us! Get out before Liam sees you!”<\/p>\n I looked down at her hand on my arm, then back up at her eyes.<\/p>\n “Take your hand off me, Beatrice,” I said, my voice low but carrying the weight of an anvil. “Before I buy this hotel and have you thrown out into the street.”<\/p>\n She scoffed, a nervous, mocking sound. “You? Buy a hotel? You fix spark plugs in a garage! Security!”<\/p>\n Liam, noticing his mother making a scene, hurried over. When he saw me, his face flushed purple.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Eleanor? Are you out of your mind?” he growled through clenched teeth.<\/p>\n “I told Clara to keep you away from my business! We’re expecting the Chairwoman of Holloway Global any second! If you ruin this for me, I’ll make sure you lose that pathetic little shack of yours by Friday!”<\/p>\n Right on cue, the ballroom’s main microphone whined with feedback.<\/p>\n Julian had walked up to the grand stage. He tapped the mic, commanding the attention of the four hundred wealthy guests. The string quartet stopped playing.<\/p>\n “Ladies and gentlemen,” Julian’s voice echoed off the marble walls. “On behalf of Vance Manufacturing, we’d like to welcome our most esteemed guest tonight.”<\/p>\n Liam’s eyes lit up. He turned his back on me, straightening his tie, whispering to Beatrice, “She’s here. The Chairwoman is here.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Julian looked directly at Liam, a smirk playing on his lips.<\/p>\n “Please direct your attention to the entrance. Allow me to introduce the sole owner, CEO, and Chairwoman of Holloway Global Components\u2026 Mrs. Eleanor Holloway.”<\/p>\n The spotlight didn’t just illuminate me; it seared the air in the ballroom.<\/p>\n Four hundred of the wealthiest people in North Carolina watched in a silence so profound it was deafening.<\/p>\n Liam’s face went through a terrifying transformation \u2014 first the confusion, the frantic search for a logical explanation, then the realization hitting him like a physical blow.<\/p>\n His jaw went slack, his skin turning a sickly, translucent grey.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “No,” he whispered, his voice cracking like dry parchment. “No, there’s been a mistake. Julian, you’re joking. Eleanor is\u2026 she’s a mechanic. She lives in a ranch house in Gastonia. She’s a widow with nothing!”<\/p>\n I stepped forward, my emerald silk rustling against the marble like the warning of a predator. Every step was a decade of hard-earned power.<\/p>\n “I live in that ranch house, Liam, because it was the first home Richard and I ever bought,” I said, my voice projecting to every corner of the hall.<\/p>\n “I fix alternators because I haven’t forgotten where I came from. But I own the steel mills that made the car you drove here tonight. I own the logistics company that delivered the bourbon you’re trembling over. And as of five minutes ago, I own your future.”<\/p>\n Beatrice, clutching a glass of champagne, let it slip from her fingers. It shattered at her feet, splashing her expensive shoes.<\/p>\n “You\u2026 you’ve been mocking us,” she hissed, trembling with rage and terror. “You sat at our table, ate our food, and let us believe you were a nobody!”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “I sat at your table and watched how you treated someone you thought was beneath you,” I countered.<\/p>\n “I watched you belittle my daughter. I watched you treat kindness as weakness and poverty as a moral failing. I didn’t mock you, Beatrice. I simply gave you enough rope to hang yourself.”<\/p>\n The murmurs in the crowd were growing.<\/p>\n Julian gave a sharp nod to the technician at the back, and the two massive high-definition screens flanking the stage \u2014 until now displaying the Vance Manufacturing logo \u2014 flickered and changed.<\/p>\n They showed a live stock ticker. VNC: \u221242% and falling.<\/p>\n Below it, a headline from the Wall Street Journal in bold: HOLLOWAY GLOBAL TERMINATES ALL CONTRACTS WITH VANCE MANUFACTURING; ALLEGATIONS OF FORGERY AND FRAUD EMERGE.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “Liam!” a voice shouted from the crowd \u2014 one of his lead investors, a man known for his ruthlessness. “What is the meaning of this? My firm just lost eighty million dollars in the last sixty seconds!”<\/p>\n Liam spun around, hands flailing. “It’s a glitch! It’s a smear campaign! Eleanor, tell them! Tell them we’re family!”<\/p>\n Clara stepped out from behind a decorative pillar. She looked like a different woman \u2014 the slumped shoulders gone, the fear in her eyes replaced by a cold, crystalline clarity.<\/p>\n She walked toward Liam, and for the first time in their marriage, he was the one who shrank back.<\/p>\n “We aren’t family, Liam,” Clara said, her voice carrying across the silent crowd.<\/p>\n “Family doesn’t forge signatures. Family doesn’t create shell companies like Blue Lantern to hide toxic debt and then put it all in their spouse’s name so she can go to prison while you run off with a mistress.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n Liam’s eyes bulged. “Clara, shut up! You don’t know what you’re talking about!”<\/p>\n “Oh, I think she does,” I interrupted. I tapped a button on my wrist device.<\/p>\n The ballroom’s sound system crackled to life. Not music \u2014 the recording from the night before. Liam’s own voice, distorted but unmistakable, filled the room.<\/p>\n “Yes, Clara, I signed your name\u2026 If this ship goes down, I’m putting you on it. So give me the damn key before I make things very ugly for you\u2026”<\/em><\/p>\n The gasps from the audience were like a physical wave.<\/p>\n In the elite circles of Charlotte, arrogance was tolerated, even admired \u2014 but criminal stupidity and the betrayal of one’s own blood were unforgivable.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n “I’ve spent tonight talking to your board of directors, Liam,” Julian said from the stage, calm and lethal.<\/p>\n “They’ve already voted to strip you of your CEO title, effective immediately. Your Blue Lantern files have been delivered to the Department of Justice. By morning, you won’t be worried about your stock price. You’ll be worried about your legal representation.”<\/p>\n Liam collapsed \u2014 not just sitting, but crumpling to the floor, his head in his hands.<\/p>\n Beatrice stood over him, looking not at her son but at the exit, her social life flashing before her eyes like a dying star.<\/p>\n I walked toward him, the crowd parting like the Red Sea, and stood over the man who had tried to break my daughter’s spirit.<\/p>\n “You told Clara I should sell my shop for fifty thousand dollars and go live in a retirement home,” I reminded him softly. “You said I was a burden to your prestigious name.”<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I reached into my emerald clutch and pulled out a single crisp one-dollar bill.<\/p>\n I didn’t hand it to him. I let it go, watching it tumble end over end until it landed in the puddle of champagne near his knees.<\/p>\n “Tomorrow, my acquisition team will buy the remaining assets of Vance Manufacturing at the bankruptcy auction,” I said, my voice as cold as a mountain stream.<\/p>\n “I’ll be turning your headquarters into a community center for the people you looked down on. That dollar? That’s your severance pay. Don’t spend it all in one place.”<\/p>\n I turned to Clara and held out my hand. She took it, her grip firm and sure.<\/p>\n She didn’t look back at the broken man on the floor or the ruined woman beside him. She didn’t need to.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n As we walked toward the grand oak doors, the crowd didn’t just move aside \u2014 they bowed their heads.<\/p>\n We stepped out of the Ritz-Carlton into the cool night air, the city lights of Charlotte stretched out before us, lights powered by the very components my company manufactured.<\/p>\n “Mom?” Clara asked as the valet brought the Bentley around.<\/p>\n “Yes, honey?”<\/p>\n “Can we go to the shop tomorrow morning?” A small, genuine smile finally broke through. “I think I want to learn how to change a spark plug. I want to remember what it feels like to build something real.”<\/p>\n THE END.<\/strong><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" I went back only to grab my glasses, and froze when I found my daughter being humiliated by…<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":793,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-792","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-stories"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/792","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=792"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/792\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":794,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/792\/revisions\/794"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/793"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=792"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=792"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/laptopsvilla.com\/blog\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=792"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}Chapter 5 \u2014 The Gala<\/h3>\n
Chapter 6 \u2014 Severance<\/h3>\n