"Ernest Butler."

I raised a hand to cut him off, then turned to Lisa.

"That's your father, isn't it?"

Lisa's expression flickered for a second before her chin lifted, the name itself enough to make her glow with pride.

"So Ms. Butler has heard of my father."

There was no hiding the certainty in her voice.

"Then you'll understand, if I stay, that someday there could be opportunities between your company and Butler Group."

She said it with the ease of someone who had never doubted her own value.

After all, twenty years on, Butler Group was a name that had faded from its old glory, but it still stood at a height ordinary companies could only look up at.

"That won't be necessary."

Lisa's face froze.

"I don't need anything from Butler Group."

I slid the termination letter across to her.

"Now, you can see yourself out."

That broke her composure completely. Her face went red, not with shame but with fury. She'd been the favored daughter her whole life. No one had ever turned her down to her face.

"Fine."

She glared at me, venom in it, and snatched the letter off the desk.

"Ms. Butler, I'll remember today. I hope you won't come to regret it."

Once she was gone, I dismissed the other four interns as well.

My assistant clearly hadn't caught up. She was still trying to talk me out of it.

"Ms. Butler, why would you do this? Butler Group isn't what it used to be, but a dying giant still throws a long shadow. Firing the Butler heiress in front of everyone like that, that's not a smart move."

"Are you finished?"

My voice came out cold, and she shut her mouth at once.

"Go make a copy of every project file Lisa touched during her internship and bring it to my office."

That afternoon, the moment my assistant set the files down, the office door was shoved open from the outside.

I looked up. A well-preserved woman came marching in on her heels.

She wore a Chanel suit, a jade bangle on her wrist glaring green, her makeup so polished I couldn't have guessed her real age. Alexandra Fox. Twenty years gone, and clearly she'd been living well.

"You're the one who runs this company?"

She walked up and sat down across from me, tossing her Hermès bag onto the desk like it was nothing.

"Who gave you the nerve to fire my daughter?"

I ignored her, picked up the teapot at my own pace, and poured myself a cup of tea.

"Mrs. Butler, still in fine voice, I see. You've clearly taken good care of yourself these years."

Alexandra paused.

She stared at my face for several seconds, never quite placing where she'd seen me.

She didn't remember me at all. Of course she didn't. Twenty years ago I'd been a scrawny six-year-old, run out of the house on a single word from her. Now I was the head of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate. There was no way she'd recognize me.

But she assumed I knew her only because she was the Butler matriarch.

"Since you know who I am, let's skip the nonsense."

Alexandra's voice was elegant and unhurried, edged with the imperious habit of decades of being waited on.

"Lisa is my daughter. Her coming to work at your company is an honor for you. Though with her talent, an ordinary position is a waste. Just give her a supervisor's seat."

I smiled a little.

"Does she deserve it?"

Alexandra's face shifted.

"What did you say?"

I set the cup down and looked at her, spacing out each word.

"I said. She doesn't."

Alexandra shot to her feet, white with rage.

"You. Don't push your luck. My daughter working at your company is a favor to you. Do you have any idea how many partnership deals Butler Group closes in a year?"

"One word from my husband and the favors your company stands to gain would set you up for life!"

I sat there watching her ugly performance, and a thought crept in.

Twenty years ago, when she threatened my mother to give up her place as Mrs. Butler, had she had this same ugly look on her face?

"I'm sorry. Butler Group's business isn't something I want."

I pressed the intercom on my desk.

"Send up two security guards."

They came quickly and took hold of Alexandra.

Her eyes went wide. She probably never imagined that, given who she was, anyone would dare lay hands on her.

Then the office door slammed open again.

A tall, thin boy came charging in, maybe just past twenty, decked out in designer streetwear.

He jabbed a finger in my face and started cursing.

"Who the hell do you think you are, putting your hands on my mother? I'll have my father shut this junk company of yours down by tomorrow!"

I looked at his hot-blooded young face, at the line of his brow and eyes that was the very image of Ernest Butler.

Another image flashed through my mind.

That rainy night twenty years ago, when I lost two people at once.

The mother who loved me most, and my unborn brother.

If that child had lived, he'd have been just about this age.

"This is your son?"

There was a tremor in my voice I couldn't quite hide.

"Of course. John Butler. Mine and Ernest's son."

I stared hard at the two of them, and then I smiled.

"Good."

I stood and turned to John.

"Go home and tell your father. I'd like to see how he plans to deal with me."

The two of them were soon driven out by security.

I sat back down, picked up the glass of water that had long gone cold, and drank it down in one go.

I knew this was only the beginning.

After they were gone, I gave my assistant another task.

"Look into John Butler. The more detailed, the better."

A file arrived not long after.

John Butler, twenty-one, a college senior, currently interning at the city TV station.

What a coincidence. The TV station?

I stared at the file, hesitated a long while, then made the call.

It was picked up almost at once.

"Eunie? What's got you calling me at this hour? I thought you said you were swamped today."

Hearing Piers Head's voice, I went quiet for a few seconds.

He was my boyfriend, and the star producer at the city TV station.

I didn't want to drag him into this.

But this was something only he could help me with.

"Do you have an intern over there named John Butler?"

His answer came fast.

"Yeah. I heard he's Butler Group's only son. How do you know him?"

I hesitated, then finally asked anyway.

"I don't want to see him. Can you have him fired?"

There was a pause on his end.

He knew me. He knew I was never the type to make trouble for no reason.

"Eunie, what happened?"

"Nothing."

I didn't want him to know about my past. I only said it softly.

"I don't like that Butler family."

Piers didn't press. He just gave a clean, easy reply.

"All right. I'll take care of it."

I let out a breath, and something warm rose up in me.

"I'll come by the station to pick you up tonight."

After work I drove to the city TV station, and the moment I stepped out of the car I saw John Butler being held back by two security guards, still spitting filth.

"Why the hell are you firing me? Because I cursed a few people out during work hours? Let me tell you, my father is Ernest Butler. Cross me and you cross all of Butler Group!"

A man stood beside him, trying to reason with him, looking completely helpless.

"Young Mr. Butler, you need to calm down. You're the one who hit a coworker first. We're just doing our jobs—"

"The rules? I am the rules! Listen to me. If that little bitch isn't fired today, and on her knees apologizing to me, this is not over!"

Just then Piers walked out of the building.

He spotted me at once and came straight over, taking my hand as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

"Waiting long?"

"No, just got here."

I smiled up at him, and John Butler caught the whole thing.

One look at how close we were, and something clicked behind his eyes.

"You—I knew it was you pulling the strings! Firing my sister wasn't enough, you had to get me fired too?"

He wrenched free of the guards and came at me with his fist raised.

Piers's face went hard. He pushed me behind him and drove a foot straight into John's stomach.

"Get him out of here."

The two guards moved in and hauled John off.

"You bitch—you think you can go after my family? My father will never let this slide. You just wait!"

John's shouting faded down the street, and Piers turned to me, worry plain on his face.

"Ernest Butler's been one of this city's top entrepreneurs for years. What happened? Why are you doing this?"

I shook my head. I didn't want to explain.

That night, I got a call from an unknown number, but the voice was unmistakable.

Ernest Butler.

Twenty years.

Hearing that voice again, my heart still clenched before I could stop it.

"So you're the CEO of Bedrock Tech?"

There was a faint, condescending edge to him on the line.

"I am."

"Who gave you the nerve to come after my children?"

I let out a thin laugh and gave it back to him without mercy.

"Mr. Butler, are you sure you've got this right? Butler Group next to Bedrock—the market left you behind a long time ago. Why would I waste my time going after a failure?"

"You—"

That tipped him over the edge. I doubt anyone half his age had ever spoken to him like that in his life.

I could hear him breathing hard on the other end.

"Fine. Very good! Young and reckless, no idea who you're dealing with!"

"You think Bedrock is so impressive? Let's see how many days you last."

"I'll be waiting."

I said it calmly and hung up.

Ernest moved fast.

First thing the next morning, my assistant rushed in clutching her phone, her face grim.

"Ms. Butler, you need to see this!"

Number three on the trending list, in bold: 【Bedrock Tech CEO's Messy Private Life】.

I scrolled down.

A handful of gossip accounts had posted long write-ups claiming a woman barely past twenty in the CEO's chair had to have a sugar daddy bankrolling her.

Then came post after post, all hinting that our core technology didn't hold up and we were scamming the market with pure hype.

"Ms. Butler, several of our partners have already called asking about it," my assistant said, her voice shaking. "If we don't handle this soon, they may pull their investment."

Before I could say a word, there was a knock at the office door.

An assistant from PR hurried in with a laptop.

"It's bad, Ms. Butler. Lisa Butler's posted a video too!"

I took the laptop and looked.

In the video, Lisa Butler sat before the camera in flawless makeup, walking through the project reports she'd done during her internship, one by one.

"These are all the projects I completed during my internship at Bedrock Tech. Every one of them is my own hard work. My numbers were the best of anyone in my class, and yet Ms. Butler fired me in front of everyone, without giving a single reason."

She paused, her eyes going faintly red at the rims.

“Later I found out that two of the male interns had private contact with Ms. Butler. I don't want to assume the worst about anyone, but the facts are right there in front of us.”

The video ended on a side-by-side image of her and one of those male interns.

The caption read： Where did I fall short?

My assistant slapped the desk, furious.

“This is garbage. That intern handled back-end work. He never touched a single project metric!”

The head of PR wrung his hands, frantic.

“Ms. Butler, public opinion is completely one-sided right now. Everyone's calling us a workplace-bullying company. Why don't you put out a statement and clear things up?”

I nodded.

“A statement is exactly what's needed.”

But what I filed wasn't a clarification. I sued Lisa Butler directly for spreading lies and damaging the company's reputation.

The move sent the Butlers into a rage all over again.

Within days, Ernest Butler reached out to the TV station and arranged a fully televised, live confrontation, asking whether I had the nerve to show up.

I was about to accept when Piers rushed over to stop me.

“Eunie, don't go! Ernest has lined up a dozen outlets. The host and the panelists are all bought and paid for, and they've scripted the whole thing. The second you walk in, the hit pieces start flying!”

I heard him out, then asked him one thing.

“Can you get me control of the live broadcast feed?”

He nodded before he could think about it.

“That, yes. But——”

“Then that's enough.”

I sent Ernest Butler a message right then.

“I'll be there.”

I set down my phone, turned, and walked into the bathroom to look at myself in the mirror.

The woman in the glass wore a dark gray suit, standing perfectly straight.

Twenty years. From the day my mother died to this one, I had been waiting for this broadcast.

I spoke softly to my reflection.

“Mom, this day finally came.”