Not their daughter
1004 Words
Sunlight poured over the glass tower of Hale Group as Lucas’s car rolled smoothly into the private entrance. The building stood tall and imposing in the heart of the financial district, a silent symbol of power and precision much like the man who owned it.
The moment Lucas stepped inside, the atmosphere shifted.
“Good morning, President Hale.”
“Morning, sir.”
“Welcome, Mr. Hale.”
Voices followed him in respectful waves as employees straightened instinctively. His presence carried weight controlled, cold, untouchable. Dressed in a perfectly tailored suit, Lucas moved through the lobby with steady, confident strides, his expression unreadable.
Near the reception desk stood a young woman in a fitted cream blouse and pencil skirt. Her name was Golden.
She had been watching the entrance since eight-thirty.
The moment Lucas walked in, her breath caught. Her eyes softened, filled with quiet adoration as they followed him. It wasn’t subtle, but she didn’t try to hide it.
“Good morning, President Hale,” she said gently as he passed.
Lucas gave a brief nod. “Morning.”
Nothing more.
But to Golden, even that single word felt precious.
As Lucas disappeared toward the executive elevators, a few staff members gathered around Golden almost immediately.
“You saw the way he responded to you.”
“You’re the only one he greets directly like that.”
“Please,” another whispered dramatically, “we all know it’s you. If President Hale ever gets married, it will definitely be you.”
Golden pretended to dismiss them at first, lowering her eyes modestly.
“Stop it,” she murmured.
But the small, satisfied curve of her lips betrayed her.
After all, she was the only woman in the company permitted to enter Lucas’s office aside from his personal assistant. She handled special projects, confidential files things no one else was trusted with.
If that didn’t mean something, what did?
She lifted her chin slightly, allowing the praise to settle comfortably around her like a crown.
Upstairs, Lucas stepped into his private office. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the city skyline. The space was minimalist, modern, efficient nothing unnecessary, nothing sentimental.
He removed his jacket, placed it neatly on the back of his chair, and sat.
Within seconds, he was immersed in work with different contracts, financial projections, overseas acquisitions and so on. His mind shifted effortlessly into calculation mode.
Yet, despite the numbers and figures on the screen, an image surfaced uninvited.
A girl at his dining table, eating like she had been starved for years.
Lucas’s fingers paused briefly on the keyboard.
He leaned back slightly.
Then pressed the intercom button.
“Jeff.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Bring me the file on Phoebe.”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “Understood.”
Minutes later, a knock sounded.
“Come in.”
Jeff entered with a slim folder in his hands.
He placed the file on the desk. “Everything we could gather so far, sir.”
Lucas opened it immediately.
The room grew quiet except for the soft turning of paper.
Phoebe’s background, her family records, university withdrawal, employment history or lack of one, financial status and more.
Lucas’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes sharpened slightly the further he read.
Pulled out of university , no stable income, history of reported family disputes.
He closed the file slowly.
For a moment, he said nothing.
Then he slid it back across the desk toward Jeff.
“That will be all.”
Jeff nodded. “Yes, sir.”
Lucas’s gaze shifted back to the window as Jeff exited, shutting the door softly behind him.
The city stretched endlessly below.
His thoughts lingered not on business deals, but on the girl who had eaten breakfast in his home like someone afraid the world would snatch it away.
And for reasons he did not yet understand, he had no intention of letting that happen.
When Irish got home she stormed into the house, her heels striking the marble floor sharply as she dropped her handbag onto the sofa.
“Mum! You won’t believe what that shameless girl did today!” she burst out, her voice shaking with anger.
Patricia Hale looked up from where she sat, irritation already flashing across her face. “What happened?”
“It was Phoebe!” Irish snapped. “She showed up at the mall pretending to be rich. She embarrassed me in front of everyone. The manager even sided with me at first, but then she pulled out some kind of black card and paid for everything like she owned the place!”
Patricia’s expression darkened instantly. “What nonsense is that?”
“I’m serious! She made me look stupid, Mum. And Harry was there!” Irish added, her voice breaking slightly. “Everyone saw it.”
Patricia stood up abruptly, fury radiating from her. “That ungrateful girl dares to humiliate my daughter? After everything we’ve done for her?”
Her lips tightened. “The next time I see Phoebe, I will teach her a lesson she won’t forget.”
From his seat near the window, Josh Hale gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “Go ahead. It’s about time she learns her place, after all, she’s not even our daughter.”
The words landed like a slap.
Irish froze.
“Not… our daughter?” she repeated slowly.
Patricia stiffened, realizing too late what had been said.
Josh sighed, clearly unconcerned. “You heard me.”
Irish’s mind raced. Suddenly, so many things made sense now, the cold treatment, the constant blame, the lack of affection.
Who treats their own child the way they treated Phoebe?
She stepped closer. “Then who is she? Where did she come from?”
Patricia’s face hardened. “That is none of your concern.”
Josh turned away. “Don’t ask questions that don’t matter.”
But as Irish stood there in stunned silence, one thing echoed in her mind
Phoebe was never truly one of them.
- Writer
