Chapter 7

~Eliza~

It only took a few hours for my excitement to deflate.

I had thought that I had figured out a way to get my company back from Daniel. My idea had been to reach out to my grandmother and ask her to sell me her shares in the company.

Granted that I had no idea where she was since my father had basically alienated me from my mother’s side of the family. She might even decline helping me at all.

Still, it was worth a try. And try, I had, until my eyes turned blurry from staring at the laptop’s screen for too long.

Using the little information I could remember from eavesdropping on my dad’s conversation in his study, I searched online. If I could get even the slightest hint of her address, I could work on it and figure out her exact location.

It had been at least four hours since I first started and I wouldn’t have minded at all if I found anything useful, but I hadn't.

With a groan, I dropped my head on the table and dragged a hand through my hair. At this point, it was starting to look like I would have to depend solely on Atlas…unless I did something I had been avoiding.

I raised my head, heaved out a deep breath, then picked up my phone. I dialed a number that had been on my blocked list from the day I turned nineteen. After a few rings, the call connected.

“Hello, father,” I said quietly and waited with bated breath for the familiar, gruff voice.

Realising that my knee was bouncing as nervousness wracked through me, I clamped a hand to stop the jerky movement.

Even after all these years, I still had this odd tightness in my chest each time I thought of the damning silence that told me exactly what I was worth to my own father. 

But then I heard a shrill, “Look who finally remembered her darling father.”

Startled, I yanked the phone away from my ear to glare at the screen, wondering if I had somehow called the wrong number. But I hadn’t.

I was supposed to be speaking to my father, so when did my step-mother start answering his call?

“I want to speak to my father, Vivian,” I said curtly, ignoring her earlier jibe.

“Unfortunately for you, I am the one you have to talk to,” she fired back brightly. Then snarled, “What do you want?”

“What I want is none of your business, Vivian. Put my father on the line,” I said sharply, and she tutted like I was a kid throwing a tantrum.

“You don’t get to make demands, Eliza,” Vivian sneered, and I briefly closed my eyes to ask for patience. “After that silly stunt you pulled at the company, you are lucky that your father still decides to acknowledge you in the first place.”

I frowned as her words registered in my mind. “Silly stun—”

I inhaled loudly as I realised what she was referring to. “You knew!” I exclaimed in a shocked whisper.

“Knew?” Vivian repeated incredulously before letting out a short, mocking laugh. “I fucking gave Isabella the idea,” she crowed with delight.

My grip tightened around the phone as the letters on my laptop screen blurred into an unreadable smudge.

“Was my father aware too?” I asked, feeling the tightness grow until I could barely breathe.

“What do you think?” Vivian replied archly, and pain surged in my chest.

So he had known that Isabella and Daniel were having an affair behind my back. He had known and done absolutely nothing, not even to stop Daniel from stealing my company.

It was what his wife, my mother, had worked for and left to me. And he couldn’t care less.

I sniffed and swiped a hand over my eyes in an angry move. Why the hell was I even surprised? Shouldn’t I have gotten used to this by now?

After all, eleven years ago, on my eighteenth birthday, my own father had agreed with Vivian to kick me out of his house with nothing to my name.

Of course, when Isabella clocked the same age only two years later, she remained under his roof, living like a fucking princess.

Even when I lost my baby, my father hadn’t reached out once. It was then that I let go of the foolish notion that he would one day change. I had to accept that my father would always love his step-wife and kid more than me.

As for Vivian, I hated her with every fiber of my being.

My nails dug into my palms from how tightly I fisted my hands, but thankfully, my voice was steady as I said, “Fine. I still need to talk to him.”

“My husband is unable to talk at the moment,” Vivian replied, not bothering to hide the glee in her voice. “Maybe you can try again later, or rather, never.”

She burst into loud laughter that grated harshly on my calm. I bit down hard on my lower lip to hold in the curse words on the tip of my tongue.

Three weeks after she moved into what used to be my house, I quickly learned that Vivian was vicious and it was absolutely useless exchanging words with her.

“Fine, please let him know that I called,” I forced out and ended the call before she could say anything else.

My hands trembled as I set down the phone with deliberate carefulness. I was beginning to see clearly now that no one I called family truly cared about me.

And despite my attempt to remain unaffected, it hurt deeply that my father hadn’t even bothered to keep my mother’s company out of Daniel’s grubby hands.

I mean, I understood that he wanted nothing to do with me, but my mother? My memories of their marriage were filled with their love for each other. So how could he do this?

Shaking my head, I rubbed my temple lightly as a headache started to throb there. Then, I glanced at the laptop screen and froze, realizing that the answer had been staring me in the eye all along.

Right at the bottom left was an advertisement for a private investigator. As I stared at the number to call, a bold idea took root in my head.

It was crazy and probably more expensive than I could afford right now, but it could work. It had to, I thought, worrying my lip between my teeth.

Inhaling deeply, I snatched up my phone and typed in the number, but my finger still hovered over the screen.

A few seconds later, before I could dissuade myself, I tapped the call button and waited.