"Anne..." her mother whispered, her voice cracking with anguish as she reached out to touch her daughter. "Listen to me, please... I would never harm you, you know that. Your father and I love you more than life itself. Please, Anita..." She reached out a trembling hand, but Anita recoiled, her eyes blazing with hurt and betrayal.
"You call this love, Mom? Your husband broke off my engagement to the man I've always loved. Was that love? You both are manipulating me into a loveless marriage with Richford? Is that love, mom?" she choked back a sob as her voice rose, filled with indignation, "You know I cannot stand him, yet, you want me to spend the rest of my life with him!"
"He loves and respects you, Anne." She took Anita's hands. "Marriage takes more than love to work. Richford will protect you. He'll—"
"Protect me from what? The only protection I need is from you all!" Anita yelled, snatching her hands from her mother's as she forcefully wiped the tear that had slipped down her cheek.
"Let me make this clear once and for all. If a hair on David and his family's head is harmed, I'll make sure you all pay for it. I'll make sure you regret it."
She took a deep breath, her chest heaving with emotion, voice cracking and trembling as she struggled to regain control. "I'm warning you, Mr. and Mrs. Reginald White. Stay away from David and his family. They're off-limits. I will not let you bully them like you did to my ex-fiancé." With that, she turned and walked away, and that was the last time she set foot in the White mansion.
Anita blinked back her tears as she found herself standing in the corridors, gazing at the rows of family portraits. They were portraits of her parents, grandparents, and forefathers.
The White estate wasn't built by her father, rather it was a legacy passed down through generations of Whites, a symbol of their wealth, power, and prestige.
Anita's eyes wandered over the familiar faces, her gaze lingering on the portrait of her great, great-grandfather, the founder of the White empire.
In every generation, the main mansion was passed down to the acting head of the family – the acting chairman of the White Corporation. It's a tradition that has been upheld for centuries.
Anita's gaze drifted to the portrait of her father, Reginald White, the current chairman of the White Corporation. His eyes seemed to bore into her soul, a reminder of the expectations and obligations that came with being a White.
After her father, her portrait would have been the next, but given the severed relationship between her and her family, Anita was sure that her portrait would never make it up the wall.
She heard that her cousin would take over from her father. Anita had never felt the pain before – she had a loving husband and in-laws and didn't need her White family – but now, she realized that being erased from her family's legacy, and having her place taken by another, stung.
To think she gave up everything - glory, generational wealth, utmost power, and prestige, all for David and her perceived freedom, only to be betrayed by the same people she'd sacrificed everything for.
"Miss Anita," the butler's voice cut through Anita's thoughts as she turned her head in his direction.
The old man bowed slightly, his eyes crinkling at the edges as he smiled, "Welcome home. Your father is in the garden."
Anita gave a faint nod, ashamed to speak as she didn't know what to say. She remembered how this old man had begged her to return home, and how confident she was about not returning. But here she was, eating her words.
The walk to the garden was suddenly so long and awkward, as Anita's mind twirled with thoughts.
Why was she even here, at the Whites?
Was she here to tell her father that the once powerful Miss of the esteemed White empire has been reduced to nothing but a shadow of her former self?
She bit her lip harshly, her fists clenched until her knuckles turned white.
She couldn't imagine what people who knew of this fact thought of her as she paraded herself around like she still had the balls in her court. On top of that, she was a scorned wife, a carrier of syphilis, and a grieving mother.
There was so much she could bear, and all of this no, it was her bottomline. And now, shameless as it may sound, Anita had realized that without her White family, she wouldn't be able to win against David.
Although she didn't know what to expect, she didn't even know why she came here. Or maybe she did… she had a tiny bit of hope that her father would take her back after the disgrace and humiliation she brought to him.
No, her father would never let things go.
Anita and the butler arrived at the pathway leading to the pavilion sitting in the middle of a large pond, in the garden.
The soft lapping of the water against the shore, carried by the soft breeze rustling the flowers and carrying the sweet scent of blooming flowers, enveloped Anita, calming her thundering heart beat.
Truth be told, Anita was not confident that her father would help her. Forgiveness for what her father conceived as betrayal, was a foreign concept to Mr. Reginald White.
His heart was cold, too cold that she hated him for it. But the irony was that Anita was just like him in many ways. She had inherited his calculating nature, his ability to manipulate situations to her advantage, and his unwavering determination.
But whereas Reginald White's cold heart had been hardened by years of ruthless business dealings and family politics, Anita's own emotional numbness had been forged from painful betrayals and the urge to make her father see that he was wrong for making her life choices.
The realization was a bitter pill to swallow, but Anita knew that she couldn't deny the truth: she was her father's daughter, through and through.
The butler, sensing her distress, took a step forward and whispered, "Your father is waiting."