Patricia gasped, horror washing over her features. "What did you just say?" she screeched. "You spent half of it already!" Her voice escalated with each word. "On what?"
Lorie frowned, annoyed by the interrogation. She had used the money to buy expensive clothes, jewelry, designer handbags, and matching shoes—all to impress Augustine. But despite all her efforts, the man hadn’t even spared her a second glance.
She pressed her lips together in frustration.
Patricia, growing more impatient, gripped her daughter’s arm. "I’m talking to you. Answer ."
Lorie yanked her arm free, scowling. "Stop badgering ," she snapped. "Didn’t you always say you wanted to live in a big house? Well, I booked an apartnt in a luxury neighborhood. And I bought a car."
"A car?" Patricia blinked, completely thrown.
Lorie huffed. "I’ve been driving a second-hand car for so long. It’s embarrassing in front of my colleagues. I needed an upgrade."
Patricia groaned in frustration. "Lorie, what am I supposed to do with you?"
But Lorie was already thinking ahead. "Don’t stress, Mom. I have a plan." A sly smirk crept onto her face as a new idea ford in her mind.
"Mr. Robert won’t let this go," Lorie explained confidently. "His n were beaten, and his woman was taken right under his watch. He’ll co for Anne. We just need to be smart—convince him we’re on his side and help him get her back."
Patricia remained skeptical. "But Anne’s sugar daddy is dangerous and strong. He won’t let her go easily."
Lorie waved off the concern. "Relax, Mom. That man can’t be with her all the ti. And with Papa still in a coma, Anne will eventually co to see him. That’s when we strike. We’ll tip off Mr. Robert and let him take her back. Problem solved."
Slowly, Patricia’s tension eased, and a satisfied smile spread across her lips. If they played their cards right, Mr. Robert would spare them.
"Yes," she murmured, nodding in approval. "That’s a perfect plan."
~~~~~~~~~~~
After dropping Anne off at their house, Augustine drove straight to the Beaumont family mansion.
As the wrought-iron gates groaned open, he guided his car through, his eyes locking onto the towering white estate before him. The grand structure, with its imposing columns and flawless facade, radiated the sa aura of wealth and power it always had. Yet, despite his lineage, he no longer felt a part of it.
He pulled into the driveway and stepped out, his footsteps slow and asured as he approached the entrance.
With every step, mories clawed at him. He could still hear his mother’s laughter echoing through the grand foyer, see his father’s reassuring smile as they sat by the fireplace. The scent of his mother’s signature jasmine perfu seed to linger in the air, so vivid that for a fleeting mont, it felt as if she were still there.
But the warmth gave way to bitterness.
The day his world shattered replayed in his mind—the hushed whispers after the funeral, the indifferent stares from those who once claid to be his family. His uncle, the eldest son of the Beaumont family, had regarded him not with sorrow, not with sympathy, but with cold detachnt, as though he were nothing more than an unwanted burden.
His hands curled into fists at his sides.
He had been just a boy, drowning in grief, clinging to the hope that his grandfather would take him in, protect him. But instead of the embrace he longed for, he was cast away—exiled under the guise of an "opportunity."
They had sent him abroad, claiming it was for his future, but he had known the truth. They had wanted him gone.
Now, after ten years, he stood once more at the threshold of his childhood ho, emotions pressing in on him like a weight too heavy to bear. He loathed this place. He loathed the people who resided within its walls.
Inhaling deeply, he willed his emotions into submission. This wasn’t a hocoming—it was a reckoning. He was no longer the lost, abandoned child who had been sent away. This house had broken him once, but he would not let it happen again.
Whatever his grandfather wanted, it wouldn’t change the past.
Lifting his chin, he squared his shoulders and pushed open the heavy wooden doors.
"Master Augustine, you have finally returned," an elderly butler greeted him with a warm smile. "The old master is expecting you in his room. Please, this way."
Augustine followed him through the familiar hallways until they reached his grandfather’s room.
Inside, the aging patriarch sat in his recliner, his once-powerful fra softened by ti. Silver hair frad his wrinkled face, but his sharp gaze remained unchanged. As soon as Augustine entered, the old man slowly rose, leaning on his walking stick for support.
A smile stretched across his weathered face, his eyes glistening with unshed tears. "After all these years, you’ve finally co back." He opened his arms. "Co here."
Despite the resentnt that had festered in him for years, despite the anger and disappointnt he had carried, Augustine found himself stepping forward, drawn by sothing deeper than pain.
He wrapped his arms around the old man. "Grandpa..."
In that mont, the years of sorrow and bitterness seed to dissolve, if only for a little while.
"I missed you." Dimitri patted Augustine’s back firmly before pulling away slightly. His hands rested on Augustine’s shoulders as he took a long, asuring look at him. "Look at you—you are a grown man now."
The once slender, obedient boy he had sent away had transford into soone completely different. The lean fra was replaced with a strong, confident stance, and the ekness of his past had been replaced by an air of quiet authority.
"You have changed a lot," Dimitri observed, his eyes gleaming with pride. "You look stronger—more mature." His gaze held admiration as he continued, "I’ve heard about your success. Becoming the CEO of Starlite Corp is no small feat. It’s impressive."
He paused briefly, his expression turning serious. "But I would be even happier if you joined the Beaumont Group. The position of vice president is waiting for you."
Augustine let out a short, humorless chuckle. The suggestion was almost laughable. "I’m content with the life I’ve built for myself," he replied coolly. "I have no interest in joining the Beaumont Group."
Dimitri exhaled heavily, his shoulders sagging slightly. "I admire what you have accomplished on your own," he admitted. "But you are still a part of this family. Your father’s shares have remained with all these years, untouched. Now, it’s ti for you to take what’s rightfully yours. Step into your role at the Beaumont Group and carry on the family legacy."
Augustine’s expression hardened. "What belongs to , I will claim it anyway," he stated firmly. "But my ambitions go beyond being a vice president in the Beaumont Group. I have far greater goals."
Dimitri’s aged eyes narrowed as he absorbed Augustine’s words, sensing the veiled challenge within them.
"Are you planning to go against your uncle and cousin?" he asked, his curiosity laced with unease.
Augustine remained silent, offering neither confirmation nor denial, which only deepened Dimitri’s suspicions.
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