003

Daddy! It's you

“She's mine, isn't she?” Astor asked, his piercing grey-brown eyes bore into Charlotte’s, daring her to deny what he already knew.

Charlotte’s breath hitched. Her heart raced as memories she’d buried deep clawed their way to the surface. "So it was you that night..." she murmured, her voice trembling, barely above a whisper.

Astor tilted his head, a faint smirk playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to figure that out,” he said coolly, leaning back in his chair.

"Leave, Brandon. Take her." His voice softened slightly as he gestured toward Jasmine.

Brandon hesitated, swallowing the lump in his throat. “Sir, are you sure..”

“I said leave,” Astor snapped, his eyes narrowing.

Brandon flinched but quickly nodded, stepping toward Jasmine. The little girl looked up at him, clutching her mother’s clothes tightly.

Charlotte’s heart dropped as Brandon’s hand reached out for Jasmine. She crouched down to her daughter’s level, forcing a smile onto her face. “I’m coming, sweetie… okay?” she said softly, cupping Jasmine’s tiny face. Her voice wavered, but she tried to keep it steady. “Just go with Uncle Brandon for a little while.”

Jasmine’s lip quivered, but she nodded. “Okay, Mommy,” she whispered, though her little fingers still clung to Charlotte’s sleeve.

As Brandon gently led Jasmine away, Charlotte straightened, her eyes locking with Astor’s once more. The smirk was gone, replaced by an unreadable expression that made her skin crawl.

"So, you are Astor Harrington? The prestigious Harrington!" Charlotte’s voice dripped as she crossed her arms, a smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

Astor remained still, his jaw tightening. He looked at her as if weighing his next words carefully, but before he could respond, Charlotte continued, her smirk growing wider.

"Of course, you are. It makes sense now," she said, her eyes narrowing. "That air of entitlement, the cold demeanor, the... superiority complex." She paused "You don’t even have to say anything. That’s exactly how rich guys are."

Astor’s lips parted, his brows furrowing. "I'm not a….."

"All rich guys!" Charlotte interrupted. "Save it, Mr. Harrington. I know your type." She stepped closer, "You get what you want, when you want, with no regard for the people you trample in the process. That’s why you didn’t even bother to stay that night, isn’t it?"

Astor’s eyes flickered. He exhaled slowly. "See..." he began, his tone calmer, but Charlotte wasn’t done.

"You don’t have to explain," she said. "You disappeared into the night without a word, and here you are.”

"I shouldn’t have left that night," Astor said. "And I’ve tried finding you," he added. "You have no idea how much I’ve tried."

Just then, Belinda came by, “Mr Brandon?” She called thinking it was Brandon standing but was shocked when she opened the curtain.

“Mr Astor? I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you…” Belinda apologized, her face down and her hands clucked in her dress.

“What's the matter?” Astor asked looking straight at her but she didn't dare to speak, instead she stammered.

“I… I…” She stammered. All of a sudden she fell to her knees, tears dripping down as though the world had turned against her.

Charlotte stood confused to what might have happened as she stared at Astor who was looking confused as her.

“The stains in my cloth ain't coming off?” Astor asked leaving Charlotte more stunned than ever.

Why would someone cry over a stain that doesn't want to come off?

“No… noo,” Belinda answered trying so hard to avoid Astor's gaze.

Brandon came in a rush, “I'm sorry sir, I'll handle this…” Brandon said, gesturing for Belinda to leave immediately but was stopped by Astor.

“Let her speak. Belinda isn't it?” Astor asked unsure if that was her name.

Belinda nodded, her head still bent..” I'm sorry, Mr Astor.. I mistakenly burnt your favourite cloth while ironing..” Belinda sparked, her face almost swollen.

Without waiting for Astor's reply, she laid face down on the floor, “my family is poor, I'll do anything you want me to do sir, please forgive me..”

Charlotte saw how sincere she sounded but looking at Astor, she wasn't sure what he'd say.

“Five thousand dollars…” he muttered making Belinda wail out.

Brandon couldn't help but feel sorry. “Sir…” Brandon began but was hushed by Astor.

“I don't know how you'll do it but, I'd be leaving with the dress this evening.” Astor said leaving no emotions making Charlotte stare at him with disdain.

“What kind of man are you?” Charlotte questioned with disdain.

Astor smirked, standing to his feet, he strode to where Belinda was kneeling, “be careful next time, you won't get this side of me another day..”

Belinda finally looked up, “ thank you so much sir, it won't happen again.” She said and followed Brandon who had been standing, out.

Charlotte heaved as though pleased but didn't utter a word.

Brandon reentered the room, his steps cautious as if he could sense the tension lingering in the air. Clearing his throat softly, he stood at the edge of the room, avoiding Charlotte’s glare as he addressed Astor.

“Sir,” Brandon began, his voice steady but respectful. “The representatives from Harrington Enterprises are here. They’re waiting for you in the main lounge.”

Astor didn’t look away from Charlotte immediately. His eyes remained fixed on hers, searching, calculating, as though trying to anticipate her next move. There was something about the fire in her gaze that both intrigued and unnerved him.

“I’ll be with them shortly,” he finally said, his tone clipped yet calm.

Brandon nodded, glancing quickly at Charlotte before retreating, his departure as silent as his arrival. The moment the door clicked shut, the tension between them thickened once again.

Astor straightened his posture, adjusting the cuffs of his shirt, “I have an offer for you,” he said suddenly, his voice cutting through the silence. “But that would be after my meeting.”

Charlotte raised a brow, crossing her arms. “An offer?” she repeated, her tone skeptical. “And what makes you think I’d be interested?”

“You will be,” Astor said confidently, stepping closer to her. There was no arrogance in his voice, only certainty. “But for now, I suggest you wait until I’m ready to discuss it.”

Charlotte let out a laugh, shaking her head. “Then I guess I can resume my duties without interruptions,” she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm. She made a motion to leave, but Astor’s next words stopped her in her tracks.

“That’s for me to decide after the meeting,” he said firmly, his tone laced with authority.

Before she could snap back, Astor turned toward the wardrobe, pulling open the doors with a casual grace that belied the tension in the room. He reached for a clean shirt, removing the one he was wearing without hesitation.

Charlotte gasped audibly, her cheeks flushing as her eyes widened. “What are you doing?” she demanded, as she turned back immediately.

“Getting dressed,” Astor replied nonchalantly, his tone betraying no amusement or embarrassment. “It’s my house, Charlotte. Surely, you don’t expect me to step into a meeting looking homeless… like you said earlier, the prestigious Harrington…”

“Maybe a little warning would be nice!” Charlotte snapped, keeping her back turned. Her face burned as she stared at the floor, hoping her racing heart would come down.

Astor smirked faintly, though she couldn’t see it. “Noted,” he said dryly, his voice calm and teasing at the same time.

The sound of fabric rustling and buttons being fastened filled the silence between them. Charlotte couldn’t help but feel trapped, her body rigid as she waited for the ordeal to end.

“You can turn around now,” Astor said finally, his tone steady once more.

Charlotte hesitated before turning, her arms still crossed defensively. “Are you always like this…?” she asked, her voice sharp but her tone faltering as she met his gaze.

“Only when I have to be,” Astor replied smoothly, straightening his tie.

Charlotte let out an exasperated sigh, throwing her hands in the air. “You know what? Whatever this offer is, I hope it’s worth the headache.”

Astor smirked. “Get my bag, Charlotte,” he instructed casually, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Charlotte’s eyes widened, her jaw tightening as she processed his words. Her hands instantly went to her hips, “I’m not some errand girl, Mr. Harrington,” she said sharply, “I’m a chef, and that’s what I came here to do.”

Astor’s smirk faded, replaced by a cold, hard stare. “And I’m your boss,” he snapped, his voice low and biting, “which means you do whatever I say.”

Charlotte’s lips parted in disbelief, but Astor didn’t give her the chance. He turned abruptly, opening the drawer, he brought out a sleek file.

Without uttering another word, he straightened his suit jacket and made to leave.

Charlotte stood as though frozen, she wished she could squeeze Astor and make him regret those words, but those were mere wishes.

All of a sudden, Jasmine burst into the room.

“Daddy! It's you.” Jasmine’s sweet voice rang out.