"Rena?"

Leo Mason paused, his expression shifting as he turned to Vanessa. "Give me a second, okay? Be good."

He offered her a gentle, reassuring smile. The moment he turned back to me, the warmth vanished. He gripped my arm and dragged me away from the crowd.

"Don't get the wrong idea," he said, voice low. "I didn't meet her until after we split."

"Liar." The word scraped my throat. "I know the timeline. She started seeing someone around this time last year. We were still together."

The color drained from his face.

I stepped closer, cornering him. "Leo, did we really break up because of the long distance? Or was there someone else?"

"I..."

"Don't insult my intelligence."

His jaw tightened. Finally, a sharp nod. "Fine. Yes. I cheated. So what?"

The admission hit like a physical blow, but he wasn't done.

"Rena, look at where I came from. My parents worked themselves to the bone just to get me out of that town. I had to claw my way up here. When I saw a chance to secure my future, I took it. Grabbed it with both hands."

Confusion warred with the pain. "What are you talking about?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "The interview for the Fortune 500 branch position. I missed the cutoff score. Wasn't going to get in."

He looked me in the eye, unapologetic. "Vanessa spoke to her father—the General Manager—and got me the offer."

My blood ran cold. "Her father? You're sure it was Richard Whitmore?"

"Yeah."

The ground tilted beneath me.

I, the biological daughter, had been rejected over a minor technicality. Held back by rigid adherence to the rules.

Yet all it took was a single word from Vanessa.

Even a stranger—someone my father had never met—could be ushered through the back door if she asked.

I was the real daughter. But in their world, I was the outsider.

I fought back the stinging in my eyes, forcing my voice steady. "I never thought you were this kind of man, Leo. You used her."

"Don't look at me like that," he snapped. "You have no idea what it takes to survive in City A. Sure, I could have stayed with you. But if another woman offers me a shortcut to a better life, why wouldn't I take it? If you actually loved me, you wouldn't stand in my way."

He scoffed. "And let's be honest, Serena. If you had the same opportunity, you would have dumped me even faster. Don't bother denying it."

I stared at him, unable to comprehend the depth of his selfishness.

"So don't blame me for being realistic," he continued, tone turning condescending. "Blame yourself. You don't have the ability to get into a Fortune 500 company. You don't have Vanessa's connections. And you certainly don't have a father like Richard Whitmore."

I froze. A bitter laugh clawed at my chest.

"You really don't know who I am, do you?"

"Does it matter?"

"What if I told you my father is Richard Whitmore?"

Leo paused.

Then laughed—cold, mocking.

"If you were Richard Whitmore's daughter, you wouldn't have been rejected. Stop making things up. It's pathetic."

I opened my mouth, but the words died in my throat.

"Leo?"

Vanessa's sweet voice cut through. She approached, brow furrowed with concern as she slipped her arm through his.

"Is everything okay? Is there a misunderstanding?"

"It's nothing," Leo said, demeanor instantly smooth. He glanced at me with disdain. "Just an ex from college. Having a hard time letting go."

He wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her away without a backward glance.

But just before they disappeared into the crowd, Vanessa looked over her shoulder.

Her eyes met mine. Her lips curled—triumphant, knowing, cruel.

My phone buzzed. I pulled it out numbly.

"Rena," Margaret's voice came through, sharp and impatient. "It's Sunday. Are you still throwing a tantrum? Your father is furious. Stop making a scene and come home."

"I'm not making a scene," I whispered.

I ended the call before my voice could break.

I dialed another number.

"Tyler Whitney, Tax Investigation Division. We have jurisdiction over Ascend Corporation, correct?"

"Yes, Director Whitmore."

"Richard Whitmore recently brought in a new protégé. Focus your attention there."

"Understood."

For the next few days, I buried myself in the tax audit, ignoring every call from the Whitmore residence.

Until I was cornered outside my office building after work.

Margaret stepped out of a waiting car, blocking my path.

"Rena, I finally found you. Your father's waiting at home." She sighed. "Stop being difficult. You haven't been back in nearly a month. Come home tonight. We're family—there's nothing we can't work out."

I wanted to refuse. But my superior's car was still parked behind me. I didn't want a scene. Gritting my teeth, I stepped into the vehicle.

When we arrived, the front door opened to a picture-perfect tableau: Vanessa pouring tea for Richard at the head of the table.

He looked up, brow furrowing instantly.

"So, you finally decided to show your face."

"If I'm unwelcome, I can leave. I'm quite busy."

I turned on my heel.

Margaret caught my arm.

Richard scoffed. "Busy? With what?"

"Work."

"Work?" A sneer curled his lip. "Some low-level job paying two or three thousand a month, and you think that justifies this attitude? Without my support, what decent job could you possibly find?"

"Support?"

I almost laughed.

"Mr. Whitmore, from childhood to adulthood, what exactly have you supported me in?"

He froze.

"Other fathers—even those with nothing—wouldn't dream of snatching opportunities from their own daughter. But you're different." I met his gaze, voice steady. "Even when your daughter succeeds on her own merits, you beat her down. Your 'support' is reserved for outsiders. You've never extended a hand to me. Since you've given me nothing, what right do you have to threaten to take it away?"

"You—!"

Richard shot to his feet, face darkening.

Vanessa rushed forward, grabbing my hand with feigned desperation. "Sister! How can you talk to Dad like that? Apologize! He's still our father!"

Richard clutched his chest, finger trembling as he pointed at me. "You see this? This is exactly why I help Nessa and not you!"

Margaret rushed to rub his back, shooting me a look of reproach. "Rena, I didn't bring you home to start a war. Look at Nessa—why can't you be sensible like her? Apologize!"

I shook off Vanessa's hand.

"I'm not sensible. Fine. As long as Vanessa is. After all, you've never treated me as a daughter anyway."

"How dare you!" Richard roared.

"Am I wrong?"

Crash.

A teacup shattered at my feet.

"Fine. Go! I want to see what you can amount to in this city without me! Get out!"

Vanessa reached out as if to stop me—her fingers grazing my sleeve in a calculated miss. She looked distressed, acting powerless.

"Sister, don't throw a tantrum! Just apologize!"

"Nessa, let her go!" Richard shouted. "Ungrateful wretch! When she hits a wall, she'll realize how wrong she was!"

Even hardened as I was, hearing my family openly favor an outsider still stung. Heat pricked my eyes.

I blinked it away, turned, and walked out. Hailed a taxi. Didn't look back.

Back at my office, a file sat on my desk—Tyler's latest findings.

I flipped through the financial records. A cold smile touched my lips as I slammed it shut.

"I knew it. Vanessa isn't clean."

The year-end inspection had arrived. Downstairs at Ascend Corporation headquarters, the official vehicles pulled up to the curb.

My team bypassed reception and marched straight toward Vanessa's office.

"Investigate me?"

Hearing the commotion, she looked up from her desk, scoffing. "Do you have any idea who I am? Who authorized this?"

"I did."

The color drained from her face.

My team parted, carving a path. I walked through, badge raised.

"Serena Whitmore, Director of Tax Investigation Division One. We've uncovered substantial evidence of tax evasion and underreported income. You are required to cooperate."