Chapter 3

The very next day, as I officially took the reins of the company, Dad, worried I might back out, immediately poured all the funds into the trust.

Dad had to sell off all his properties because we were running low on cash.

Even after that, the trust fund was sitting at a meager 1.5 billion dollars, a good chunk away from the 2.1 billion we needed.

While Dad was scrambling to scrape together more money, I was shaking things up at the company, kicking off new ventures left and right.

Then, on a day I had just nailed down a major deal, Dad called and told me to come home.

I did not want to, but he already sent the driver for me, so I had no choice but to head back.

The moment I stepped up to the villa, the place was buzzing with joy and laughter. However, as soon as I showed up, silence fell, and all eyes were on me.

Yvonne could not resist a dig. "Look who it is, Ms. Smith. Now that you're running the show, we have to beg you to drop by, huh?"

I did not bite, just turned to Dad.

He pretended not to hear, which told me everything I needed to know: they were playing games, trying to knock me down a peg.

I just smirked and spun on my heel to leave.

Yvonne was caught off guard and called out, "Lily, where do you think you're going? Who said you could leave?"

I shot her an icy look. "Since when do you give the orders?"

She was livid, struggling to keep her cool. "How dare you talk to me like that? I'm your elder!"

I could not help but scoff. "My elder? Really?"

When I was 12, Dad cheated with Yvonne.

She got pregnant, and Dad, worried about the scandal, shipped me off to study abroad against my wishes, with Yvonne as my so-called guardian. She was supposed to be looking after me while she had her kid.

Later, when Yvonne had Ethan, she tried to pull strings for her son's sake, even tried to corrupt me.

When that did not work, she resorted to spiking my food, hoping to hook me on drugs.

Lucky for me, I caught on quickly, rigged a camera in the fridge, and dodged that bullet.

Yvonne's face was dark with anger, and I could not help but feel a rush of satisfaction. I was about to throw another biting comment her way when a cup hurled by my dad smacked me right in the forehead.

Dad was fuming, his eyes shooting daggers at me as he let loose a barrage of scolding.

"Where's your respect? Is this how you were raised?! Apologize to Ms. Porter."

I bit back my anger. "I did nothing wrong."

Dad was seething, his chest rising and falling with each breath of rage.

He lifted his cane, ready to strike, but something crossed his mind, and he suddenly cooled down.

"Transfer all the company's liquid assets into the trust. It's still short by 600 million dollars."

It hit me then. Dad had called me back with a purpose in mind.

I refused outright, saying, "The company's tied up in new projects. The funds are all invested."

Dad did not seem to care. "Put the projects on hold. Get the funds back."

I stared at him, shocked that he could be so reckless.

Pulling out the funds then would do nothing but harm the company, and if things went south, we could be looking at bankruptcy.

Dad must have read my mind because he doubled down.

"A company's just a company. It's nothing compared to the trust. And after all these years, what could possibly go wrong?"

My heart dropped. Dad was willing to throw the company under the bus for his three illegitimate kids.

Then it clicked. Dad was not ignoring the company; he was trying to milk me and the company dry for the sake of his other children.

I composed myself. "Dad, I'm not pulling the funds. You can forget about it."

With that, I walked out, ignoring the angry shouts that followed.

I thought I had been clear and that Dad would back off.

However, the next day, I got the news from finance: the funds were pulled, and Dad had moved every penny into the trust.