Ellie
The door to my father’s study clicks shut behind me like the lid on a coffin.
He’s sitting in his usual place—his leather chair, his back straight and fingers curled around a porcelain teacup like nothing in the world has changed. The city sprawls behind him in gleaming glass and steel, but the room feels frozen in time.
“Ellie,” he says, looking up with that familiar, polished smile. His voice is honeyed concern, every syllable rehearsed. “What a surprise. What are you doing on this side of town, sweetheart?”
I walk slowly across the room, letting my heels click on the marble like punctuation. I know every inch of this place. The scent of his cologne lingering in the air. The subtle creak in the floorboard by the fireplace. The locked drawer beneath the bookshelf—where he used to hide contracts, pills, people.
“I had a few errands,” I say, keeping my tone light. “Thought I’d drop by.”
He nods and gestures to the chair across from his desk. “Sit, sit. I’ve been meaning to call. How are you holding up after everything with Jack?”
I smile, sweet and false. “You haven’t heard?”
He lifts a brow. “I’ve heard rumors around the office. Nonsense, mostly. You know how people talk.” He sips from his tea and sets the cup back down beside a jar of honey. The lid is still off.
The same jar I replaced this morning while he was still at work.
He doesn’t notice. Of course he doesn’t. Why would he question the honey sitting on his desk, the one he’s used for decades? It’s in the same container, the same label. It even smells the same.
It’s just... a little different now.
“I visited Jack yesterday,” I say, brushing imaginary lint from my sleeve. “He’s doing well, all things considered.”
My father chuckles, shaking his head. “Poor bastard. I never thought he’d actually turn on you like that. Frame you for that fire, drugging you? It's... monstrous. I always liked him.”
My smile widens. “Did you?”
He nods slowly. “Of course. He was loyal. Smart. Knew how to stay quiet, which is rare in men his age. I suppose prison will be a test of that.”
I tilt my head, watching him over the rim of my eyes. “And the CEO?”
He freezes for the briefest second. It’s slight—just a flicker of hesitation in the way he lifts his cup again—but I see it.
“What about him?” he asks.
“The man Jack killed,” I say softly. “The man you ordered Jack to deal with when your contract negotiations went south. I don't know how you managed to have it covered up, but I knew you’d find a way. You always find a way to escape the consequences by hiding behind lawyers and your deep pockets and endless connections.”
His face doesn’t change. That’s how I know it’s true.
There’s no outrage. No confusion. Just... silence.
Then, finally, a sigh. He takes another sip of tea.
“Ellie, you’ve been through a lot. Emotions tend to cloud judgment in times like these.”
I laugh. Quiet. Controlled.
“You didn’t think this was over, did you?” I ask, letting the sweetness drain from my voice. “You took everything from me. My mother. My childhood. My peace. You put me in Jack’s hands like I was a bargaining chip, like I was a gift. You let him break me, and you watched from the sidelines.”
His jaw tightens. “Ellie—”
“No,” I cut in. “Don’t. You don’t get to lecture me about loyalty or love or legacy. You never loved me. You loved what I represented. A daughter to parade. A clean name. An innocent face to distract from your rot.”
He opens his mouth again but sways slightly, blinking.
I watch his throat move as he swallows the last of the tea.
