VINDEL. THE BILLIONAIRE'S SPOILED DAUGHTER

THE GIRL WHO THOUGHT SHE OWNED THE WORLD

The Holt mansion was supposed to be quiet, peaceful, dignified.

But the moment I opened my mouth, it sounded like a war zone.

“Where is my food!?” I shouted so loudly the chandelier trembled. “I asked for lunch. Not this pathetic delay you all call service!”

Three maids rushed across the dining hall like terrified mice. One of them, a young girl with shaking hands, carried a tray toward me.

“Miss Vindel, your food is ready.”

She placed the plate gently in front of me, like she was handling a bomb.

I grabbed the spoon and tasted the gravy.

The salt hit my tongue like a punch.

I spat it back into the plate.

“Are you blind!” I yelled. “Or do you want me to choke to death! What is this disgusting trash!”

The maid stuttered, “I followed the recipe…”

I grabbed the edge of the plate and shoved it away. The plate slid across the long marble table and crashed to the floor with a violent smash. Gravy splattered on her dress.

She gasped. I didn’t care.

“You idiots can’t do one simple job,” I snapped. “You people are useless!”

I stood up so fast my chair toppled behind me. I marched to the kitchen doorway, rage burning through me. The moment I entered, workers froze mid-motion.

There was a male staff member wiping a tray. I walked straight up to him.

“You!” My voice cracked like a whip. “Did you supervise this nonsense?”

“No, Miss Vindel, I only—”

I slapped him hard enough that his head jerked sideways.

The sound echoed through the kitchen like a gunshot.

The workers gasped. One dropped a fork. Another stepped back like I was dangerous.

Good. I wanted them to fear me.

“If you can’t work,” I yelled, “get out of my house! I won’t tolerate stupidity!”

The man held his cheek, eyes lowered. I pushed past him and stormed back to the dining room, breathing heavily, hands shaking with anger.

And then I felt it.

A presence watching me.

I looked up at the staircase.

My grandfather stood there.

Guerrero Holt. The man who owned an entire empire. Agro One Apex. The billionaire whose decisions controlled global food supply. The king of agriculture.

He wasn’t smiling.

He wasn’t angry.

He just watched me with an expression I couldn’t read.

He descended the stairs slowly, each step heavy and deliberate. Everyone lowered their heads. No one dared breathe loudly.

Except me.

I folded my arms.

“What now?” I asked.

He reached the bottom of the stairs, his eyes moving from the shattered plate, to the maid covered in gravy, to the bleeding mark on the worker’s face, and finally to me.

“Vindel,” he said, “make your own food.”

I blinked. “What?”

“You heard me clearly. Make your own food. Now.”

I laughed sharply. “I’m not cooking. That’s why I have workers.”

He looked at me steadily. “If you can scream at people who serve you, then you can serve yourself.”

“Stop being dramatic,” I snapped. “You’re always picking on me.”

“Pick on you?” he repeated quietly. “I watched you slap a man. I watched you humiliate a maid. I watched you throw food on the floor like you’re an animal.”

“I’m not an animal!” I shouted.

“Then stop acting like one.”

My heart hammered in my chest. I hated that his voice stayed calm. Mine never did.

“Ever since my parents died,” I said, voice shaking with anger, “you’ve treated me like trash.”

His shoulders stiffened. “This has nothing to do with your parents.”

“Yes, it does,” I shot back. “If they were alive, you wouldn’t talk to me like this. You hate me because I’m all that’s left of them.”

He stepped closer, his eyes cold. “Vindel. Bring your food from the kitchen.”

“No.”

“You will not eat otherwise.”

“I don’t care,” I snapped. “I’d rather starve than bow to you.”

His expression hardened. “You walk around this house like you own it. You treat workers like disposable objects. And you dare stand here blaming me for your behavior.”

I took a step toward him. “What do you want me to say? Do you want me to kneel? Do you want me to beg?”

“I want you to grow up.”

I clenched my fists. “I’m done with this conversation.”

I turned and stormed toward the main door.

“Vindel!” he called.

I ignored him.

“Vindel,” he repeated, voice louder, “come back here.”

I didn’t stop.

“You walk away from responsibility every time something doesn’t go your way,” he said behind me. “You think the world will keep bowing to you because you carry my last name.”

I felt heat rising in my face.

“You are a spoiled brat, Vindel,” he said. “And I blame myself.”

I froze.

Those words cut sharper than any slap.

I turned my head slightly. “So that’s what you think of me.”

“It’s what you’ve shown me.”

He wasn’t yelling. He didn’t need to. His voice carried weight I couldn’t push aside.

I swallowed the painful lump in my throat, but tears still pricked my eyes.

Fine. If he thought I was a mistake… I would leave him with it.

“Enjoy your perfect empire,” I said quietly. “Enjoy your perfect workers. Since I’m such a disappointment.”

Then I stepped outside and slammed the door so hard the walls shook.

The cold air hit my face, and the tears finally spilled. I wiped them angrily.

Inside, I heard his voice.

“Everyone… return to your duties.”

I walked a few steps away from the mansion but turned my head slightly, just enough to hear.

“You,” he told the maid softly, “go rest. You’re not to be punished for her temper.”

“And you,” he said to the male worker, “stand up. Vindel had no right to touch you.”

There was silence.

Then his voice again.

“No one is to follow her. Let her walk.”

I clenched my jaw, breathing hard.

Let me walk?

Fine.

He wouldn’t see me beg.

He wouldn’t see me crawl.

He wouldn’t see me return.

But deep inside, where I didn’t want to admit it…

Those words had burned.

Spoiled.

Brat.

Disappointment.

And even though I walked away, each step felt heavier than the last.