He wrapped his coat around my shoulders and pulled me into his arms. “Forgive me, sweetheart,” he whispered into my wet hair.
“They humiliated me,” I said, my voice shaking again.
He looked into my eyes and wiped my tears with steady hands. “Get into the truck and change into something warm, then walk beside me like the daughter you are.”
Inside the vehicle, I found a simple black dress and heels that my father always carried for formal events. I changed quickly, dried my hair as best I could, and stepped back out feeling transformed.
We walked toward the grand entrance while my father’s security team handled the estate guards without firing a single shot. The front doors swung open under a powerful kick, and the music stopped abruptly.
Guests huddled in confusion while Vivian shouted orders and William tried to calm an investor. Silence fell when they saw me enter on my father’s arm, composed and unbroken.
“What is the meaning of this,” Vivian shrieked. “You destroyed my property, I will call the police, and who is this man.”
My father let out a low laugh that carried across the room. “My name is Franklin Hayes, and I am the father of the woman you stripped and discarded like trash.”
William stepped back, pale and stunned. “Hayes,” he whispered. “The Hayes Agricultural Group.”
“The very same,” my father replied evenly.
Vivian tried to recover her arrogance. “I do not care who you are, your daughter is a thief.”
“Is this the necklace you are referring to,” one of my father’s men asked as he dragged Tiffany into the room holding the missing diamond necklace.
“We found it in her purse while she attempted to leave through the back entrance,” the guard announced.
Tiffany burst into tears. “Mom told me to hide it on Brooke so William would divorce her and marry the senator’s daughter.”
Gasps filled the ballroom as William stared at his mother in horror. “Mom, tell me this is not true.”
“It was for the family,” Vivian snapped desperately.
My father tapped his cane against the marble floor. “Enough.”
He pulled documents from his coat and tossed them at William’s feet. “Your textile company has been bleeding money for years, and six months ago you secured a massive loan from a private investment fund to save this mansion.”
William swallowed hard. “Yes, and what of it.”
“That fund belongs to me,” my father said calmly. “I purchased your debt, your mortgages, and your promissory notes.”