Try to make me cry

Chapter 10: The True Puppet Master

The Confession and the Betrayal

My face changed, I froze. What? My father. I thought he had lost all interest in me already, what now?

“It wasn't my idea to send you this document... it was your father.”

I stared at his broad back, his body language deliberately closed off. All the fury I had unleashed on the woman in the red dress turned instantly into cold, paralyzing dread. My father. He doesn't even speak to me, yet he speaks to Eddie.

Eddie finally turned around, leaning against his desk. “Your father is facing liquidity issues with his latest real estate development. He needs capital injection fast, and he knows I won’t give it to him without collateral.”

I processed this information. "So he wants to pull my company under the umbrella of Grayson International? He wants to take the one thing that is truly mine?"

"He wants to pull your company under the umbrella of Grayson International," Eddie corrected. "He gets the cash, and I get the controlling interest. And more importantly, he gets to control you again, through me."

The betrayal was immediate, sharp, and achingly familiar.

“Am I lying?” Eddie picked up a folded piece of paper from his desk and tossed it across the surface. “That’s a formal letter of intent from your father to me, drafted three weeks ago. He’s tired of watching you succeed without him, Maggie. He’s tired of you proving he didn’t control you.”

My blood ran cold. The final act of control was to take away the power I had built for myself. He threatened to use his influence to launch an investigation into my company’s early funding methods, which would paralyze my company. I had to sign the partnership agreement to keep my company operating, sacrificing independence for survival.

That means talking to Eddie was a complete waste of time. Since my father is the chairman of Eddie's company, my fate is truly sealed. Looks like I'll have to attend that beach party after all.

I took the partnership document from his desk.

“Where are you going?… Done talking?” he said.

“Yes. I just realized you're completely useless at this matter,” I said, walking toward the door.

•

My heels were high and my injured knees screamed with every step. I didn’t fall to the ground this time, but as I stormed out of the office and into the corridor, I accidentally kicked a delicate, ornate antique model van displayed on a pedestal near the private security desk. It broke with a sharp, sickening crunch.

“Are you still not done creating a mess?” he said, his voice low and tight.

“It's just a van. You're rich. You can afford a new one,” I dismissed, walking past him. If it was his latest lover who broke it, he wouldn't act this way towards them.

“It’s not affordable,” he said, almost in a loud voice.

“Then I’ll buy you this exact same one from the exact same artist, since you make a big deal out of it,” I said, barely sparing him a glance.

“Can you… ask my dead mother to really make another one?” he said.

I froze. My head snapped back to look at him. His face was pale, his eyes wide and glassy, fixed on the broken pieces. That was the first time I saw him truly emotional, the corporate mask dissolving into raw, helpless grief.

He didn't wait for my response. He simply turned and left the corridor, retreating back into his office.

All this mess for nothing. All my strategic corporate maneuvering had been meaningless. The real battle was still fought on the battlefield of family and emotional trauma.

——

The Next Day: My Company

I was at my office the next day, focused entirely on damage control and discreetly researching countermeasures to my father's legal threats. My company, a fortress I built with my own hands, was my only safety.

Suddenly, two powerful figures walked into my office: the Governor and his son.

“Well done, Miss Grayson, you've outdone yourself again,” the old man said with a beaming smile.

I smiled back, the cold mask firmly in place. “Thank you, Governor,” I said.

“She is truly a talented woman,” his son chimed in, equally charmed.

“Eddie is indeed a lucky man,” the Governor said, a comment that made me subtly cringe. Please don't ruin the good talk.

I nodded, maintaining my poise. Ah, these are my people, I thought. The business elite who recognized my talent, the only people who didn't turn their back on me.

“Ah, yes. Please let me introduce my wife,” the son said, and the door opened again.

But then I saw the girl, my smiling face almost cracked in two.

She looked at me, her eyes immediately widening in shock and then narrowing in pure venom. “You! You are Miss Grayson?” she shouted, her voice shaking with disbelief and rage.

She was the same woman from my husband's office yesterday—the one in the red dress.

This is bad. She was married to the Governor's son and still outside looking at people's husbands. Now, if she said anything about what I did to her yesterday—the slaps, the dragging—it would cause a social and political firestorm that would destroy the reputation I needed to fight my father.