We say our goodbyes and hang up. I place the phone carefully on my nightstand, then walk to the mirror to check my appearance. Nothing out of place. No hint of the turmoil inside.
Just as I'd been taught.
My phone buzzes with a text from Byron:My office. Now.
I take one last look in the mirror, smoothing my hands over my dress. The confrontation with Scarlett has left me rattled, but I can't let it show. Not now. Byron needs to see the perfect, composed daughter he's cultivated—not the mess of doubts Scarlett just stirred up.
I make my way down the grand staircase. As I approach his office, I can already feel the tension radiating from behind the heavy oak door.
Taking a deep breath, I knock twice.
"Enter," Byron's voice calls out, sharp as a blade.
I push open the door to find him standing behind his desk, hands planted firmly on the polished wood. His normally composed features are twisted with barely contained rage—jaw clenched, eyes burning with cold fury. The veins in his neck stand out prominently, and his knuckles have gone white where they press against the desk.
"Close the door," he orders.
I do as instructed, my heart hammering against my ribs as I move to stand before him. The office suddenly feels smaller, the air thicker.
"I take it the meeting didn't go well," I say, keeping my voice steady.
Byron's laugh is bitter, devoid of humor. "That arrogant son of a bitch had the audacity to refuse." He pushes away from the desk, pacing like a caged animal. "Twelve years I've been planning this, setting everything in motion, and Feretti doesn't even consider it."
I stand perfectly still, watching him. "He rejected the marriage proposal outright?"
"Acted like I'd insulted him." Byron stops pacing, his steel-gray eyes fixing on me.
"I thought you planned it well," I offer carefully, watching Byron's expression darken. "The business arrangement sounded reasonable."
Byron whips around, his eyes flashing with rage. "Planned it well?" His voice cuts like shattered glass. "You think I brought you into my home, educated you at the finest schools, and groomed you for over a decade just to have Feretti dismiss my offer without a second thought?"
I flinch at his tone, taking an instinctive step back. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean?—"
"Sorry doesn't fix this, Zoe." He advances toward me, jabbing a finger in my direction. "Do you have any idea where you'd be if I hadn't taken you in? After your father got himself killed, you would've ended up in some state-run orphanage or bounced between foster homes. You'd have nothing—no education, no future, certainly not the life of privilege you've enjoyed in my care."
Heat rushes to my cheeks as shame washes over me. "I know what you've done for me, Byron. I'm grateful?—"
"Grateful?" He scoffs, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair. "If you were truly grateful, you'd be more invested in making this work. I saved you from poverty, from being just another forgotten child in the system. Everything you have—the clothes on your back, your education, your very identity—is because of my generosity."
"You're right," I whisper, lowering my eyes. "I'm sorry for questioning your plan. It won't happen again."
Byron's expression softens fractionally, but the coldcalculation never leaves his eyes. "When I found you, you were a terrified little girl with nothing. Remember that, Zoe. Everything you are today is because I made you. Don't forget who owns your loyalty."
The word "owns" lands like a body slam, but I force myself to nod.
Byron turns away from me, moving back to his desk where he sifts through papers with agitation. His pointed silence feels heavier than his words.
My mind drifts to Scarlett's words.He's manipulating you, Zoe. Can't you see it? He's using your father's murder to control you.
I stare at Byron's back, his shoulders rigid with frustration. Is Scarlett right? Am I just a pawn in his game?
But then I remember everything he's actually done for me.
The best schools. Beautiful clothes. A future. He showed me how to stand tall in rooms full of powerful people. He made me... someone.
Would a man who only wanted to use me invest so much?
The man who murdered my father walks free, building his empire on blood money. Now I have a chance to dismantle it all, to finally get justice for Dad.
