7- the hunter

I am still standing in the storeroom, holding my mother's portrait against my chest, when I hear footsteps approaching.

I turn towards the door.

Hellen.

Of course.

Her eyes immediately settle on the portrait in my arms before travelling back to my face.

“What are you doing with that?”

I tighten my hold on the frame.

“Taking it home.”

She lets out a short laugh.

“Why? Planning to decorate your bedroom with it?”

I ignore her and turn towards the door.

“Move, Hellen.”

She steps in front of me.

“Don't tell me what to do.”

I sigh.

“Then don't stand in my way.”

Her gaze returns to the portrait.

“Honestly, Lynn, why are you so obsessed with things that belonged to your mother? She's gone. You should learn to move on.”

My fingers tighten around the frame.

“Don't talk about my mother.”

“Or what?”

I stare at her.

“Just move.”

“Give me that.” Instead, she reaches for the portrait."What is it?"

“My mother's picture.”

She looks at it for a few seconds before a mocking smile spreads across her face.

“That old thing?”

I feel my fingers tighten around the frame.

“Don't call it that.”

“Why? Is it something valuable?”

“It's important to me.”

Hellen rolls her eyes.

“Whatever. This place isn't a museum. You can't just walk around picking up discarded things.”

“It's not discarded.”

“Oh, really?”

Before I can react, she reaches for the portrait.

“Give it to me.”

I pull it away.

“No.”

Her expression hardens.

“I said, 'Give it to me.”

“And I said no.”

For a moment, we stare at each other.

Then she snatches the portrait from my hands.

“Let's see what you're so desperate to protect.”

“Hellen!”

She lifts the frame slightly before releasing it.

The sound of glass smashing against the floor fills the storeroom.

I freeze.

The portrait lies among the broken pieces, its glass shattered into several fragments.

My mother's smiling face stares up at me.

Something inside me twists.

Even though I expected Hellen to behave badly, seeing my mother's portrait treated that way still hurts.

“Pick it up,” I say quietly.

Hellen looks at me.

“What?”

“Pick it up.”

She laughs.

“Are you giving me orders?”

I bend slightly, but she steps forward, blocking my way.

“Don't tell me what to do.”

I slowly straighten.

“That was my mother's portrait.”

“And?”

I stare at her.

She shrugs.

“She's dead. What exactly do you expect me to do about it?”

My jaw tightens.

I could slap that smile off her face.

I could tell her exactly who I am and remind her that the building she's so comfortable walking around belongs to my family.

But that would defeat the purpose.

I didn't come here to announce my identity.

I came here to expose theirs.

And I know exactly how to do it.

I glance towards the corridor.

Perfect.

I heard earlier that my father was in the building. Knowing Mike, he would probably be with Miranda, discussing business or entertaining his precious stepdaughter.

I only need a few minutes.

Hellen folds her arms.

“Well? Are you going to stand there all day?”

I look down at the broken portrait.

Then back at her.

“Please, just let me take it.”

She gives me a suspicious look.

“Why?”

“Because it belonged to my mother.”

Hellen bursts out laughing.

“Your mother?”

I lower my gaze.

“Please.”

She takes a step closer.

“Do you even know how expensive everything in this building is? People like you shouldn't be wandering around touching things.”

I say nothing.

Instead, I quietly move towards the portrait.

She follows.

“Don't touch that.”

I stop.

And then I hear footsteps approaching the storeroom.

Two familiar voices drift through the corridor.

Miranda's.

And my father's.

I recognize his voice immediately.

My lips curve ever so slightly.

There he is.

Right on time.

I quickly lower my head, allowing my expression to change.

When I look up again, my eyes are already filling with tears.

“Please, Hellen. I won't do it again.”

She frowns.

“What?”

“I won't tell anyone.”

Her expression changes.

“Tell anyone what?”

I take a shaky breath.

“I won't tell anyone that this company belongs to my mother. I won't tell them that I'm the heiress. Just please, let me take her picture.”

Hellen stares at me.

For a second, I think she might actually understand what I've said.

But then her face twists with anger.

“What nonsense are you talking about?”

I take another step towards the portrait.

“Please. I don't want any trouble. I'll leave quietly.”

“You're unbelievable!”

She raises her hand.

The slap comes, and I angle myself so that it lands harder.

My head snaps to the side. How foolish.

I stagger backwards, my foot catching against a discarded box.

I lose my balance.

And then I fall.

A sharp sting tears through my palm as it lands against the broken glass.

“Ah!”

I cry out, immediately pulling my hand away.

A few tiny fragments have pierced my skin.

Tears gather in my eyes as I stare at the blood beginning to appear on my palm.

Hellen looks down at me.

“Stop pretending!”

I lift my face towards her.

“Why did you hit me?”

“Because you wouldn't listen!”

I stare at her in disbelief.

Then I begin crying.

Not loudly at first.

Just enough to make my voice tremble.

“Please, Hellen. I'm sorry.”

She looks irritated.

“Get up.”

“I'll leave. I promise I'll leave.”

I glance at the portrait lying beside me.

“Just let me take my mother's picture. I won't ask for anything else.”

“You're still talking about that stupid picture?”

I shake my head.

“Please. I won't tell anyone. I won't tell them that this is my mother's company. I won't tell them that I'm the heiress.”

“What are you saying?”

Her voice rises.

“Are you insane?”

I lower my head.

“I'm sorry.”

“You're nothing but a liar!”

By then, the footsteps have reached the doorway.

“What is going on here?”

My father's voice.

I slowly turn my head.

Mike stands at the entrance, with Miranda beside him.

His eyes move from Hellen to me.

Then they fall on my injured hand, and the broken portrait is scattered across the floor.

“What happened?”

Hellen immediately turns towards him.

“Daddy!”

Her voice changes.

Suddenly, she's the innocent one.

“She came here and started making ridiculous claims. I don't know what's wrong with her!”

Miranda steps forward.

“Hellen, what's happening?”

But I don't answer either of them.

Instead, I look at my father.

Tears stream down my cheeks.

“Daddy…”

His expression changes.

“Lynn?”

I lower my eyes, my injured hand trembling slightly.

“I'm sorry. I didn't mean to cause trouble.”

He takes a step towards me.

“What happened to your hand?”

I glance at Hellen.

Then quickly look away.

“Nothing, Daddy. Please don't be angry with her.”

My father frowns.

“Angry with who?”

I swallow.

“Hellen.”

The girl in question stiffens.

I continue speaking, my voice barely audible.

“She didn't know the portrait belonged to my mother. I only asked her to let me take it. I promised I wouldn't tell anyone…”

I stop, pretending to struggle with my words.

Mike's gaze sharpens.

“Tell anyone what?”

I shake my head.

“Nothing.”

“Lynn.”

I look down at the broken portrait.

“That this is my mother's company.”

Silence.

For a moment, nobody moves.

Then I hear a sharp gasp.

I hadn't even realized how many people had gathered outside the storeroom.

Several employees are standing in the corridor, staring at us.

One woman covers her mouth.

Another whispers something to the man beside her.

“Did she just say her mother owns the company?”

“Then who is the real heiress?”

“Wait. Doesn't Madam Miranda's daughter inherit everything?”

“She said she was the heiress…”

Their whispers grow louder.

Miranda's expression changes.

“Lynn, what are you talking about?”

I look at her with tearful eyes.

“I'm sorry, Stepmom Miranda. I didn't mean to embarrass you.”

Her face tightens.

“Nobody is embarrassing anyone. You need to explain yourself.”

I nod quickly.

“I know. I shouldn't have come here.”

My father looks between us.

“Can someone explain what is happening?”

Hellen immediately steps forward.

“Daddy, she's lying! She's just making things up because I refused to give her that picture!”

I glance at the portrait.

Then at my father's.“Please, Daddy. I would rather not fight with anyone over the company. I only wanted to take Mom's picture home.”

My voice breaks.

“I didn't even know they had thrown it in here.”

Mike's face darkens.

He looks at the portrait on the floor.

Then at Miranda.

“Why is her mother's portrait in the storeroom?”

Miranda opens her mouth.

“Mike, the building was renovated. We had to remove several old decorations. It's not what you think.”

“Then why was it thrown away?”

“It wasn't thrown away. It was simply being kept here.”

I lower my head.

A small, almost invisible smile touches my lips.

There it is.

The first crack.

I know my father.

He might be blind to many things, but he has always been particularly sensitive whenever Hellen is involved. And Miranda knows exactly how to manage him.

Unfortunately for them, this time I have given him something he cannot easily ignore.

A discarded portrait.

An injured daughter.

And an entire corridor of employees who have just heard something very interesting.

Hellen suddenly points at me.

“She's manipulating you! She came here claiming she's the heiress. Why would you believe her?”

I look at her.

For a moment, our eyes meet.

I let my lower lip tremble.

“I'm sorry, Hellen.”

She looks ready to explode.

“Stop apologizing!"I flinch slightly.

My father immediately turns towards her.

“Hellen!”

She goes quiet.

I slowly look down at my bleeding palm.

Inside, however, I'm smiling.

In my previous life, Hellen was always good at playing the victim.

A little trembling lip.

A few tears.

A carefully chosen story.

And suddenly, everyone was against me.

She used those tricks for years, knowing that my father would always take her side.

Well, I suppose it's time I learned from the best.

The difference is that I don't need to invent anything.

Hellen really did slap me.

She really did destroy my mother's portrait.

And Miranda really did remove my mother's face from the wall of the company she built.

All I've done is make sure the right people witnessed it.

I look up at my father again.

“Daddy, can we please go home?”

He stares at me for a moment before turning towards the employees.

“Everyone, return to work.”

Nobody moves immediately.

Miranda's face has become noticeably pale.

Hellen looks furious.

And my father…

For the first time since I returned to this life, he looks at me as though he's finally seeing me.

I slowly extend my injured hand.

“Can someone please help me?”

Mike's expression changes.

“Get the company nurse. Now!”

As the employees hurry away, I lower my gaze.

One step at a time.

I don't need to reclaim everything today.

I only need to make them understand that the girl they thought they had pushed aside is no longer willing to remain silent.

And if Hellen wants to keep playing the innocent daughter, she should probably learn to be more careful.

Because this time, I'm not the one who will be paying for her little performances.

And as if he was called. Kai enters the storeroom.