Anita sat before Mr. Reginald White, who held up a newspaper, reading. They'd been like that for over ten minutes – no one saying a word to the other.
Seeing this, the butler glanced at the sky, the sun setting. He sighed, as expected of this father and daughter, "I'll get the servants to prepare your room, Miss."
"No, I'm not staying the night," Anita replied calmly, then returned her attention to her father. "If you're going to pretend to read, at least do it right." She continued, "You've been holding that upside down for over ten minutes."
Mr. White froze, his eyes finally glossing over the words and realizing he'd indeed been holding the newspaper upside down.
His cheeks burned with embarrassment. Truly, he wasn't reading. His mind had been lost on how to start a conversation with this daughter of his. It's been eight years since they've last spoken to each other.
They saw each other in gatherings sometimes, but had never exchanged a word. He had his people keeping an eye on her over the years, he'd indeed thought that his judgement of David and his family was wrong, until he received recent reports of David's evil actions against his daughter.
But Mr. White didn't stop David from trapping his daughter, betraying her, and shattering her heart.
That's right.
Mr. White knew everything David had done to his daughter - from trapping and rendering her powerless, to cheating on her, infecting her with STDs, and losing their child.
It was his people who sent her the anonymous email.
He knew that his daughter wouldn't let David go scot free, and by extension, would return home, to where she truly belonged. But he didn't think it would be this soon.
He thought she'd foolishly confront that bastard. But as it seems, she's done some growing up.
The man closed the newspaper and set it down, picking up the tea cup and sipping from it, "Why are you here?"
Anita swallowed, her head down and shoulders sagging under the weight of her troubles.
"Square those shoulders and lift that chin, young Lady!" Mr. White hissed.
The man knew that the pain she carried inside her was too great and if she broke down in front of him, he wouldn't know how to console her.
Her mother, the emotional one, was not with them to give her a shoulder to cry on.
Anita jolted, subconsciously putting upright - like she had the control of the room.
She met her father's cold silver gaze, her identical eyes searching for any sign of compassion or understanding. But Mr. White's expression remained stern, his eyes piercing.
"Why are you here?" he repeated coldly.
Anita took a deep breath, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. "I need your help," she said, forcing her voice to be powerful, like she was discussing business.
Mr. White's eyebrows rose, "Go on," he said, his tone a little softer.
Anita pressed her lips in a thin line. Right, she didn't expect him to receive her, let alone give her a listening ear. She thought he'd not let her into the house. But now that she was facing him, she didn't know what to ask, or where to start from.
Mr. White watched her quietly, wondering what she needed his help for. He'd be disappointed if she wanted him to seek revenge on her behalf, or lend her some money. It would only mean that she'd not grown up after eight years.
The man hoped she'd plead to return to the family, to take back what belonged to her, and then show that good-for-nothing husband of hers and everyone who has wronged her why they shouldn't mess with the White family.
Suddenly, she rose from her seat, and Mr. White's eyes dimmed. Was she going back? Didn't she want his help anymore? His grip on his cup tightened, his heart growing with a fresh wave of disappointment.
Just before he could feel utterly disappointed, she suddenly dropped to her knees before him, her eyes clouding over with tears.
"Forgive me, dad…" Anita's voice trembled, her lips quivering as she struggled to hold back tears. "I was wrong…and foolish. I should have listened to you."
Her bravado, her strong woman facade shattered, leaving behind only a child who wanted her parents' cuddles and hugs.
Mr. White's expression faltered, his eyes filling with a deep sadness. He looked at Anita, his daughter, and saw the shadows of pain and regret etched on her face.
He felt a pang in his chest, a mix of emotions he couldn't quite untangle. For a moment, he forgot about his own pride and anger, and all he saw was his daughter, broken and vulnerable and he didn't like that one bit.
He raised her to dominate men and women alike, and as the heiress to the White Empire, she deserved to be pampered and treated with utmost importance, but that man had reduced her to this…a vulnerable and broken little girl.
Where is the daughter he raised?
All she did was listen to her heart. All she did was live, trust, and give him her all. His daughter wasn't wrong to trust and love him, that man was at fault for taking her for granted and hurting her like this.
"Anita Reginald White!" he bellowed, rising to his feet like the thunderstorm he was, his voice shaking the very foundations of the Pavillion. "How dare he!" his eyes blazed with fury, clouded with emotions. "How dare he reduce you to this state! You, my daughter, the heiress to the White Empire! You, who was raised to be a queen, to be worshiped and adored!"
The butler panicked, Mr. White's anger was something no one wanted to witness. It was a rare sight, but one that struck fear into the hearts of all who saw it.
The butler rushed to intervene, his voice trembling slightly as he spoke, "Sir, please, perhaps you should calm down. The Miss has just returned after eight years. It wouldn't be good to welcome her with such… such… emotions."
Meanwhile, Anita looked up at him, frozen in place. Stunned.
She knew that look, that tone. It was the look of a man who would tear the world apart to protect his own.
She didn't think she'd ever be the reason for this fierce protection again, after she'd heartlessly walked away from this family eight years ago and never once looked back – even when her mother died.
She'd only gone for the funeral, robotically paid her last respect and returned to David's family without looking her father's way or consoling him, not once.
She'd thought that they had ended their relationship after he took her name out of the family's register, but surprisingly, her father still cared… Her father knew what she'd gone through.
"Fa– father," she stuttered, her suppressed tears pouring down in torrent now. "Y– you knew?"