Chapter 2 The Daughter Who Didn't Belong

Everyone in the village said my father was lucky to have such a devoted daughter in me. However, he had always scoffed at that.

"What good is it for a girl to make money? It doesn't matter how much she earns because she'll end up belonging to her husband's family anyway. Having a son is better. I'm sure my son will be there to see me off when I'm on my deathbed. He's the only one who really matters!"

Back then, I thought he was just being modest and making an offhand remark.

I never imagined that he'd still see me as an outsider instead of his daughter after more than a decade of giving him everything I had.

I stared at his self-righteous face, pressed a hand to my stinging cheek, and stormed back to my room.

…

That night, I was so anxious about the loan payments that my stomach started hurting. I got up to look for some medicine.

Then, I heard Kellan's excited voice coming from my father's bedroom.

"The demolition compensation is $2 million! That's a fortune. Dad, you're really giving it all to me?"

"Of course. You're my only son. Who else would I give it to? You can pay off your gambling debts with that money, and then come home and get yourself a wife."

Kellan chuckled, greed gleaming in his eyes. "But I'll need a house and a car to get married, Dad. What woman would want me otherwise?"

My father laughed, completely convinced of his own twisted logic. "Freya can buy you a car. And we already have a house. I'll make Freya move out to make room for you when you come back. You can use this place as your marital home!"

Laughter erupted from both ends of the call.

I leaned against the hallway wall, feeling not unlike I'd been dunked in ice water.

He'd taken out a $300,000 loan under my name without saying a word to me, yet I wouldn't get a single cent of the $2 million in demolition compensation.

Even the house I'd bought with my own hard-earned money no longer had a room to spare for me.

I let out a disbelieving laugh before returning to my room and making a phone call.

"Cyrus, I'm moving out. I want to sell the house!"

…

I arrived at the real estate agency right on time early the next morning, as per my agreement with Cyrus.

"Ms. Ashwood, it's currently the holidays, so used houses aren't selling as quickly. Do you have any specific requirements for the buyer?"

Cyrus poured me a glass of water and opened his notebook.

I handed him the property documents. "I only have two requirements. First, I need to sell it as soon as possible. Second, I want the payment to be in cash."

He took the documents from me, looking momentarily surprised by my terms. "The cash part shouldn't be a problem, but… how quickly do you need to sell?"

I smiled. "Preferably in three days. I'm willing to lower the price to make that happen."

He parted his lips as if to ask something, but eventually decided against it.

…

After the appointment, I bought a voice recorder and several cameras at the market.

I bumped into a little boy when I got home around noon. He fell onto his bottom and burst into tears.

Before I could react, a familiar figure came bounding out of the living room.

"Well, look who's back! Freya!"

I looked up and saw Kellan.

My older brother, who'd run away eight years ago to dodge his creditors, had suddenly returned.

I didn't need to guess why.

I glanced at him without saying a word before turning to the little boy still sniffling on the floor, intending to help him up.

However, my father suddenly rushed at me and kicked me in the shin before I could reach out to help him out. The pain nearly brought me to my knees.

"Are you blind? How dare you knock over my precious grandson!"

I sucked in a sharp breath and stared at him in disbelief. "Grandson?"

Kellan blew out a ring of smoke, looking as lackadaisical as ever. "My illegitimate son, Damian. He's seven."

I let out a soft grunt, my face impassive as I trudged back to my room.

As I passed the living room, I noticed the dining table was a complete mess.

Lobster shells, crab legs, and scallop shells covered the entire table. Two empty insulated shipping boxes sat beside it.

I hurried over and checked the shipping labels.

That was when I remembered—I'd specifically asked a friend to have the seafood flown in from Avernon ten days ago.

I'd planned to spend the holiday at home with my father and share a nice seafood dinner with him. After all, he'd never had the chance to enjoy much good food in his life.

Well, so much for that. Now, all that remained were the shells.

I stood by the table as a chill crept from my fingertips up my arms.

"Dad, did you eat all this seafood?"

He sat on the couch with his legs crossed, cradling Damian in his arms. He didn't even look up when I spoke.