Your fault

"This is your fault, Abigail."  

Abigail barely made it through the day before the world came crashing down.  

She had seen the signs, the unpaid invoices, the unanswered calls, the desperate whispers from employees afraid to lose their jobs. But today, the truth hit like a sledgehammer.  

The business was collapsing.  

And her father…  

Abigail clutched the hospital report in her trembling hands as she stepped into the house. She barely had time to process it before her mother’s voice lashed out like a whip.  

“Are you happy now?”  

She looked up, startled. Mariana Elijahstood in the middle of the living room, her eyes red-rimmed, her expression twisted with grief and fury.  

“Mom, I…”  

Mariana slammed the table. “No! Don’t you dare call me that right now.”  

Abigail’s throat tightened. “What happened?”  

Her mother scoffed, shaking her head. “As if you don’t know.”  

Sophia sat on the couch, arms crossed, refusing to meet Abigail’s gaze. The silence in the room felt heavier than ever.  

Abigail took a hesitant step forward. “Did something happen to Dad?”  

Her mother let out a bitter laugh. “Oh, you finally care?”  

“Of course, I care!” Abigail snapped. “Tell me what happened!”  

Mariana’s face crumpled, but the anger didn’t fade. “His condition worsened today. The stress...the debt...the business...” She pointed a trembling finger at Abigail. “It’s killing him.”  

A sharp pain twisted in Abigail’s chest.  

Sophia finally spoke, her voice cold. “If you had just agreed earlier… none of this would be happening.”  

Abigail turned to her sister, stunned. “What?”  

Sophia’s lips pressed into a thin line. “You dragged this out, Abi. You kept fighting like you had a choice.”  

“I...”  

Mariana wiped a tear away angrily. “You think there will be no repercussions for what happened? You slapped Edward Dante. You humiliated him. Do you realize what you’ve done?”  

Abigail’s breath caught.  

Mariana stepped closer, voice shaking. “That man was our last hope. And you spit in his face.”  

Guilt curled in Abigail’s stomach like a slow, poisonous burn.  

Sophia shook her head. “You were too busy acting like a martyr to see the truth. And now? Dad’s in the hospital, the business is in ruins, and we have nothing.”  

“I...” Abigail clenched her fists. “I didn’t want this. I was trying to...”  

“To what?” her mother cut in. “Protect your pride?”  

Silence.  

Abigail’s nails dug into her palms.  

Her mother scoffed. “Your father sacrificed everything for this family. He built that company from the ground up. And when he needed you the most, you...” Her voice broke, but she forced herself to continue. “You let him down.”  

The words hit like a blade to the chest.  

Abigail’s breathing grew shallow. “I… I just wanted to...”  

“It doesn’t matter what you wanted,” Sophia said flatly. “It’s too late.”  

The lump in Abigail’s throat grew unbearable.  

She glanced at her father’s empty chair, the one he used to sit in every evening, smiling at her like she was the light of his life. The man who had always believed in her.  

Now, he was in a hospital bed. And it was because of her.  

Her mother’s voice was barely a whisper. “You failed him, Abigail.”  

Tears blurred her vision.  

Abigail turned on her heel, grabbing her coat as she rushed out the door.  

Her mother didn’t call her back.  

Neither did Sophia.  

The rain poured mercilessly, soaking Abigail to the bone as she stood in front of the towering penthouse.  

Edward ’s home.  

Her hands shook as she pressed the doorbell.  

Nothing.  

She pressed it again, harder this time.  

Still nothing.  

Her pulse pounded. “Damn it, Edward , open the door!”  

The cold seeped into her skin, but she barely felt it over the ache in her chest.  

She had lost.  

She had fought, she had resisted, she had tried to hold onto her dignity.  

But in the end, she had nowhere else to go.  

Tears mixed with the rain as she clenched her fists, forcing herself to stand tall even as her body trembled.  

She hit the bell again, this time with more force. “Edward !”  

The door finally swung open.  

Edward Dante stood there, his shirt slightly unbuttoned, his hair tousled like he had been working late. His cold blue eyes met hers, taking in her drenched figure, the desperation in her expression.  

For a moment, he said nothing.  

Then, slowly, that cruel smirk curved on his lips.  

“Took you long enough.”