Chapter 2
656words
The elevator ascended directly to the penthouse.
When the doors opened, Walter Jenkins, our family butler, spotted my suitcase and his expression immediately darkened.
"Miss, you've..."
"Walter," I attempted to steady my voice,
"They've thrown me out."
"What?!" Walter's voice rose sharply,
"They dare treat you this way?! I'll send James Sullivan immediately..."
"Not necessary, Walter."
I interrupted, stepping into the home I'd abandoned years ago,
"I'll make them pay myself."
Walter studied me, concern flooding his eyes before resolving into a resigned sigh.
He took my suitcase:
"It's good you've returned. Has the Chairman been informed?"
"I messaged Father. I'd like to dine with him tonight."
He escorted me to my former suite, preserved exactly as I'd left it years ago.
Even my favorite scented candle burned by the bedside, as if I'd merely taken an extended trip.
"The Chairman ordered your room maintained daily, always prepared for your return."
Warmth bloomed in my chest.
In the marble bathroom, hot water cascaded over me, washing away years of accumulated exhaustion.
I collapsed onto the plush king-sized bed and immediately surrendered to deep slumber.
In the Reynolds household, I'd been like a perpetual servant—rising before dawn to prepare breakfast, scrubbing floors and washing dishes until midnight.
Only now, finally relaxed, did I recognize the bone-deep exhaustion I'd been carrying.
When I awoke, city lights were beginning to twinkle outside my window.
Walter Jenkins waited discreetly outside, speaking softly:
"Miss, the Chairman returned some time ago and awaits you in the dining room.
He instructed that you not be disturbed, insisting you needed proper rest."
Tears pricked my eyes.
Margaret Reynolds' harsh voice demanding I rise before 5 AM flashed through my mind.
In the dining room, Father occupied the head of the table, surrounded by all my favorite dishes.
He wasn't reviewing documents or checking his phone—simply waiting patiently.
"Father," I sat down, my voice slightly hoarse,
"I was wrong to disregard your counsel years ago."
Tears escaped despite my efforts to contain them.
Father served me with his chopsticks, his tone gentle yet resolute:
"In my youth, I was equally headstrong.
Once my mind was set, nothing could dissuade me.
You weren't wrong—they failed to recognize your value.
You experienced a setback—what of it?
As Victor Blackwood's daughter, you can afford temporary defeats!"
I met his gaze, finding a reassuring smile.
Yet beneath the table, his fist was clenched white-knuckled with barely contained fury.
"I've consulted our legal department. They're prepared to initiate divorce proceedings immediately," he stated.
I pressed my lips together and replied quietly:
"Father, that won't be necessary. Ethan and I obtained our divorce certificate six years ago."
Father's expression hardened as he leaned forward:
"What? Why wasn't I informed?
Haven't you been cohabiting all this time?"
"We filed for divorce shortly after Emma's birth, before I'd even completed my postpartum recovery."
The memory still constricted my chest,
"He claimed his company faced potentially catastrophic debt.
He insisted we needed a 'paper divorce' to protect me and Emma from creditors..."
"That conniving bastard!"
Father slammed his fist on the table,
"I know your pride would prevent you from accepting direct financial support.
That's precisely why I arranged for Blackwood Group to award Reynolds Enterprises that lucrative energy contract after Emma's birth!
That project guaranteed at least $40 million in profits!
He wasn't protecting you from debt—he was preventing you from claiming your share of his wealth!"
The revelation hit me like a physical blow.
Years of sacrifice, tolerance and suffering suddenly made perfect, terrible sense.
From the beginning, he had been manipulating me.
I lifted my chin and stated coldly:
"Father, they will pay for this."
Father studied me, satisfaction gleaming in his eyes as he nodded:
"Truly my daughter.
Whatever course you choose, I stand behind you with the full weight of my resources."
