"I hate you!"
Jacqueline Sanders's voice echoed through the breakfast room, sharp enough to cut glass. Her chest heaved as she stood at the entrance, fists clenched so tightly her nails dug into her palms.
Across the table, her father didn't even flinch. Robert Sanders sat still; perfect posture, immaculate suit, tablet in hand, as though he were reading market reports instead of dismantling his daughter's life.
"It's for your own good, Jacqueline," he said calmly, not even bothering to look up.
That, more than anything made something inside her snap.
"My good?" she repeated, her voice rising. "My good?! You emptied my accounts!"
Now he looked up. Finally. No guilt in his eyes. No remorse. Just mild irritation like she had interrupted something trivial.
"You've been relying on my resources while refusing to align with my expectations," he said evenly. "That arrangement was never going to last."
Her laugh came out brittle and broken.
"Arrangement? I was building something! My business-"
"Your hobby," he interrupted.
Her breath hitched. "That is not a hobby," she shot back, stepping further into the room. "I built that from nothing. Vintage sourcing, restoration, resale. I have customers, I have growth-"
"You have distractions," he said flatly. "You are wasting your potential selling old clothes."
"They're not just 'old clothes'!" she snapped.
"They are beneath you."
Silence fell between them. Heavy. Suffocating. Jackie stared at him, searching his face for even a flicker of pride. Approval. Something. There was nothing.
"Do you hear yourself?" she asked quietly. "Do you even hear what you're saying?"
"I hear ambition being squandered," he replied. "You were not raised to live small, Jacqueline."
"And I wasn't raised to be controlled!" she fired back.
For a split second, something shifted in his expression. Sadness. But it disappeared so quickly she wondered if she imagined it.
"You will meet me at the office in one hour," he said, his tone final. "I will introduce you to the team."
Her stomach dropped.
"I'm not coming."
"Yes, you will."
"No," she said, shaking her head. "I'm not working for you."
His gaze hardened.
"I did not invest in your education for you to ignore everything I've built."
"And I didn't ask you to!" she shouted.
The words hung in the air. Perilous. Irreversible.
"I am trying to give you a future," he said, his voice colder now.
"And I'm trying to build my own!" she shot back. "Why is that so unacceptable to you?"
"Because your version of success is…small."
That did it. The last thread holding her together snapped.
"I don't care what you think," she said, her voice trembling but fierce. "I am proud of what I built. I am happy."
"Life is not about happiness, sweet pea."
Her entire body went rigid.
"Don't call me that."
Her voice dropped low, sharp, final.
"I am not five years old. And we are not that kind of family anymore."
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The silence between them was no longer just tense, it was broken.
"Then understand this," Robert said quietly. "If you choose that path, you do it without my support."
"I already am," she said.
"You were," he corrected.
The implication hit her like a slap. Her chest tightened.
"You took everything," she whispered.
"Yes."
No apology. No hesitation. Tears burned her eyes, but she refused to let them fall in front of him.
"Fine," she said, lifting her chin. "I'll rebuild."
"With what capital?" he asked.
"I'll figure it out."
"You won't."
Her heart pounded.
"Watch me."
She turned toward the door, her vision blurring as emotion threatened to overwhelm her. Stopping at the threshold, she turned around.
"I hope you burn in hell," she said.
Then she slammed the door behind her. The drive felt like a blur. Jackie barely remembered getting into her car or starting the engine. Her hands trembled on the steering wheel as tears finally spilled over.
"I hate him," she whispered. Her voice cracked.
"Why did I have to have him as a father?"
The city passed by in streaks of motion and colour, but she barely saw it.
All she could think about was the emptiness. Her accounts were gone. Her savings were gone. Her safety net was gone. Everything she had built erased with a single decision. A bitter laugh escaped her lips.
"At least he didn't take the car," she muttered.
The absurdity of it hit her all at once and suddenly she was laughing and crying at the same time.
"Gosh, this is ridiculous."
She reached for a tissue to dab her eyes. Just for a second she looked away from the road. And that was all it took as her car drifted. A horn blared and bang. The impact jolted through her body, snapping her forward before the seatbelt caught her. Silence followed. Her breath came fast and uneven.
"Oh… no…"
Her hands gripped the wheel as panic surged.
"Please no. Not today. Not today."
A sharp knock on her window made her jump. She looked up and everything stopped. Because standing there was the most devastatingly handsome man she had ever seen. Dark hair. Piercing blue eyes. A jawline carved with precision. For a moment, she forgot how to breathe. He knocked again, concern flickering across his face.
"Ma'am," he said. "Are you alright?"
She stared at him. Stunned.
"Are you hurt?" he asked, his voice more urgent now.
Their eyes locked. And something unexplainable passed between them. Something electric. Dangerous.