"What? Did you think I’d leave you alone and not keep an eye on you?" He hissed, feeling his pent up anger boiling over. "You’re my daughter, my one and only child. What would my ancestors, your mother think if I didn’t ensure your safety and well-being?"
Mr. White’s voice trembled with emotion, his eyes blazing with a mix of anger and hurt. "I may not have agreed with your choices, we may have our differences, Anita, but you’re still my flesh and blood. And I’ll be damned if I let anyone harm you and get away with it."
He took a deep breath, his chest heaving with suppressed rage. "Now, rise to your feet and raise that head of yours." He continued, "You’re a White, and Whites don’t cower or show weaknesses," he said, his voice firm but gentle.
"You’ve been through hell, I can see that, but it’s ti to rise from the ashes. You’re strong, Anita, stronger than you think. Now, you’ll take back what’s rightfully yours," pointing towards the mansion, he continued, "...hang your portrait on that wall, beside mine, where it belongs, and show the world what it ans to cross Reginald White’s daughter."
"D– dad..."
"Co here."
Anita’s tears poured down like a fountain. She rose from the wooden floor, taking small steps as her heels wobbled beneath her with every step she took towards her father.
The short walk felt like forever movent, and when she finally crashed into his strong chest, feeling his strong arms wrap around her, Anita let herself go, sobbing so hard that her voice threatened to collapse.
Mr. White enveloped her in a tight embrace, his heart shattering at his daughter’s sorrowful voice. The rim of his eyes turned red from suppressing his own tears.
He was a man. n don’t cry. And he never did — at least, not for anyone to see.
"I’m sorry, Anne," he whispered, his voice cracking with emotion he tried to control. "I’m so sorry I wasn’t there for you when you needed . But I’m here now, and I’ll make sure you get the justice you deserve." He held her tightly.
His words and the comfort she’d not realized she’d missed for so many years, further served to intensify Anita’s sorrow. And she wailed harder.
And in that mont, wrapped in her father’s arms, Anita knew that she was ho. A place she truly belonged. With the man who genuinely loved her. Unconditionally.
....
By the ti Anita left the White estate and returned ho, it was late in the evening.
Surprisingly, upon entering the house, David and Linda were sitting on opposite couches, their faces turned towards the door.
"Where are you coming from?" David pointed at the wall clock, "It’s 10:43 PM." He said, rising from his seat, eyes blazing with annoyance.
Anita stood frozen, her gaze lingering on Linda for a little longer before retracting her gaze to the wall clock at the sa ti, taking off her heels at the entrance. "It’s late indeed," she said, her voice carrying a hint of coolness and a mix of tiredness.
Slipping into a pair of white fluffy slippers she stepped into the house. As usual, she kissed her husband on the cheek, "Have you eaten? Should I make you dinner?"
David frowned slightly. This wasn’t how a woman should react when she saw her husband had brought ho another woman.
He didn’t like her nonchalance. Or should he call it trust? It was infuriating!
"I’m not hungry." He sniffed her, perceiving a faint sll of alcohol on her. "Did you drink?"
Anita pulled back a little, "Yes. I dropped by mom’s and ran into a friend." She said while fetching out her phone.
"Mom? She didn’t tell you you dropped by. I was there a while ago," David looked suspiciously at her.
Did she go out with a man? Was she cheating on him?
Considering the nonsense about her pregnancy last week... could it be that she was indeed pregnant, but for another man?
David didn’t believe he was responsible for her pregnancy, and that was because they’d been married for almost eight years, and they dated and had sex for months before marriage, not once did she take in, even though the doctors claid they were both fine.
She had no miscarriages or shy signs of pregnancy. So, why now? After eight years?
He didn’t believe in miracles.
As his mind began to run rampant, Anita’s voice cut through his thoughts before they could form abominable conjecture.
"I an, my mom," Anita paused while keeping her phone in her bag, "You know, the one who passed away...?"
David’s gaze snapped back to her, finally taking notice of her mourning outfit, "Oh, I’m... I’m sorry...? You went to the columbarium?"
"Hm," she responded half-heartedly. "Heard she left so inheritance for but Mr. White wouldn’t give it," she lied through her teeth without batting an eyelid.
"Hold on, you went to Mr. Reginald White? Is your relationship with him good now?" The subtle panic in his voice didn’t go unnoticed by Anita, who scoffed in her heart.
That was the last thing David wanted. If Anita and her father reconciled, and she was accepted back into the White family, his life would be over - she’d beco that powerful heiress he could never reach once again.
And then if she found out he’d been cheating on her, Anita wouldn’t take it lying down. That was why he’d make sure to manipulate her over the years so she’d never have any reason to return to her family.
"Not exactly." She added, "We severed ties, rember?" her gaze drifted to Linda once more, while saying. "You don’t have to worry that you’d address him as father-in-law. We don’t share such relationships anymore."
She was talking about her relationship with David, but the subtle aning behind her words flew over his head.
He smiled awkwardly, "That’s not what I ant. But..." he halted when he saw her staring at Linda’s bag.
That was the bag he bought for Linda for eleven million. He told her not to bring it but Linda didn’t listen. He hoped Anita wouldn’t know he bought it for her.
Gesturing to Linda, he introduced without being asked, "et Linda, she’s my company’s new employee... and my childhood friend," he turned to Linda, "This is my wife, my Queen, the love of my life, Nita."
Linda rose from her seat, looking shy and sweet as she stretched out her hand. "Hello, Ms. Anita, I’m Linda, Mr. Dave’s muse."
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