Chapter 4
924 Words
My mind drifted back to the parent-teacher meeting at the end of eighth grade. The teacher called each student's name in turn. When mine came up, the seat meant for my parent sat empty.
After the meeting, a few girls gathered around me and laughed. I hid inside a bathroom stall from the end of school until dark, too scared to step outside.
When I got home, I cried and begged my grandmother to call my father. I wanted to ask him only one thing. Could he show up just once? Even if he stayed for only a single class.
My grandmother hesitated for a long while before dialing the number she knew by memory.
The phone rang and rang before someone finally answered. But before I could even finish saying, "Dad," the line went dead.
Then I remembered the last thing he had said to me at the Avermont City train station.
"I've remarried. My new wife is the heiress to the Carter Group. My son is about to start at Kingsley University. We love him very much."
I searched the summit guest list online. As expected, both my father and Jack Carter were listed. Their company was attending alongside Yolanda Carter.
I checked her profile. Yolanda's standing was below mine, and the Carter Group wasn't worth much in my eyes.
For four straight years, I had slept no more than four hours a night. I knew every corner of my profession. My supervisors could ask me anything, and I could break down every benefit and every risk without missing a detail.
I knew every client's risk strategy by heart. They trusted my judgment completely. Some even promised they would move their investments wherever I went.
That was probably why someone like me, only 22 years old, had received the invitation.
On the third evening of the summit, the organizers hosted a business reception in the revolving ballroom on the top floor. I wore a custom charcoal gray gown with an understated woven pattern, slipped into my 2-inch heels, and entered alongside the biggest names in finance.
I had commissioned the gown after earning my first paycheck. Nine master craftspeople spent an entire year making it. My English surname, Scott, was stitched into the lining with gold thread.
The moment I stepped into the center of the ballroom, I spotted my father. He had aged after seven years, but he still wore an expensive suit and the smooth social smile he had practiced for years.
Jack stood beside him. He had grown from a boy into a young man and was chatting with several friends his age. Holding a glass of champagne, I slowly walked through the crowd and passed right beside them.
My father turned by chance and caught sight of me. The smile on his face instantly stiffened.
"What are you doing here?" He grabbed my wrist, lowered his voice, and dragged me toward a quieter spot. "I don't know how you got in here. Leave now. Don't let me see you again."
I didn't answer, but simply smiled.
The working world had taught me one thing. Whether I was dealing with an impossible client or a sarcastic coworker, a smile was always enough.
"Lily, I'm talking to you!" His voice grew louder, drawing curious looks from the people nearby. Someone quietly asked him what was going on.
Jack slipped his phone into his pocket and stepped beside my father, looking me over with guarded eyes.
My father hesitated, then lifted his chin and explained to the people around us, "She sneaked in. She stole a staff pass. I was right questioning her."
The crowd immediately burst into murmurs. I could feel countless judgmental eyes fixed on me, filled with suspicion and contempt.
Someone called for security to escort me out.
"Hold on." As the security guards approached, my father suddenly seemed reluctant to make the situation worse. "She's still young. Just have her hand over the badge, and we'll let it go."
Before he could finish, Jack rushed over and knocked the champagne glass from my hand. "You're a thief! Give back the staff pass!"
Champagne spilled down the front of my suit. I looked at the dark stain spreading across the fabric, then raised my eyes to the spoiled young man standing before me.
Oddly enough, everything I had kept buried inside for years suddenly melted away.
So that was it. It didn't matter any longer.
A sneer crossed my face as I heard the host announcing my name from the stage. I brushed the champagne from my jacket and turned toward the podium.
Jack grabbed my sleeve. "You're not leaving! Explain yourself first!"
More and more people gathered around us. Their whispers blended into a dull roar that echoed through the ballroom.
The corners of my lips lifted slightly as I was about to speak.
A staff member hurried through the crowd and stopped in front of me. "Ms. Scott, it's your turn to speak."
Without giving my stunned father another glance, I followed the staff member toward the stage.
As the spotlight settled over me, I took the microphone, looked across the audience, fixed my gaze on the pale man standing below, and began calmly.
"Tonight, I'd like to tell everyone a personal story. It's about how my own father left me behind in my hometown as though I were a burden, and how I climbed step by step until I stood on this stage."
Below the stage, every bit of color vanished from my father's face.
- Writer
