Five
1269 Words
Miriam’s pov
“Sir,” the driver called to my father softly but urgently, just as I was on the verge of unleashing my fury, “the car is ready now.”
I had to suppress my angry words. I bit my lips so fiercely that I felt a prickling pain, as if I might injure myself.
“Alright, darling, I will see you later,” my father said gently, kissing my mom on her forehead. I watched as my mom melted into his embrace, her eyes briefly closing as if in search of comfort. That moment struck me…I was about to expose my dad, and in doing so, I’d be breaking my mom's heart too.
Today was my first day at work, and I couldn’t afford to ruin it or prove the sender of that malicious message right by getting fired early, I thought.
I knew I had to play my cards carefully to uncover the truth behind those messages, I told myself.
Swallowing hard, I calmed my nerves. I looked down at the disturbing messages on my phone…probably from a bastard child linked to my father…with seething rage bubbling beneath my skin. Maybe not today, but I vowed to find whoever was behind this and show my mom that my father was a notorious cheater.
“Miriam,” my mom's voice cut through the rising tension and anger inside me. “Are you well? You look pale,” she asked, concern evident in her tone as she took in my distressed state.
I took a few deep breaths, forcing a forced, awkward smile to mask my turmoil.
“I'm fine,” I replied coldly, centering myself. I walked straight toward the car, ignoring my father's cold, distant attitude.
“Take it easy on her, Morgan,” I heard my mom whisper as I shut the car doors behind me. “She needs time.”
“I don't have time; she needs to sit up,” my dad replied coldly before slipping into the car, and we drove to the office in solemn silence.
After an hour-long ride, we arrived at my father’s company. The building I remembered from four years ago now looked more polished with fresher paint, a larger structure, and an interior that screamed luxury, featuring gleaming glass floors and modern, minimalist decor. It was obvious my dad spared no expense to impress his business associates. I wasn’t surprised, but I was genuinely awestruck.
“I would appreciate it if you respect me and approached this company with an open mind,” my dad implied as he settled into his expansive, sleek office, designed simply yet commanding, fitting for a boss.
“Where's my office?” I asked, dismissing his authoritative tone. I was eager to find a quiet space…anywhere to escape his gaze. I needed space and distance.
“Miriam, I am your father,” he said sharply. “You will respect me when I speak.”
A bitter laugh nearly escaped me.
“Like you respected your wife?” I shot back. Losing my usual discipline and feeling an unexpected surge of confidence.
“What do you mean?” my dad asked, puzzled as he tried to process my words.
‘KNOCK!’
The sound cut through the tension like a blade.
A woman stepped in; tall, composed, mid-thirties, but her hesitation gave her away. She had heard something.
“Sir,” she said politely, “your guests have arrived and are waiting for you.”
“Thank you, Mary,” my father replied, instantly composed again. “Please show them to the boardroom. I’ll be there shortly.”
She nodded and left. Silence stretched between us.
“This client will be your first test,” my father said, breaking the silence. “By the end of it, I’ll know whether I can tolerate your attitude.”
He gestured toward the door, signaling me to follow him. Reluctantly, I walked out with him to meet the clients, my stomach fluttering with nerves.
The walk to the boardroom felt longer than it should have.
Each step echoed too loudly against the polished floors, my heels clicking in sharp, measured beats that did nothing to calm the storm brewing inside me.
My father walked ahead, composed as ever and untouchable.
We stopped at the double doors.
He didn’t look at me.
“Compose yourself,” he said flatly.
Then he pushed the doors open.
The room fell into silence the moment we stepped in.
A long, polished table stretched across the center, surrounded by men in expensive suits who carried the quiet arrogance of power. Floor-to-ceiling windows bathed the room in cold daylight, reflecting wealth, influence, and control.
And at the head of the table—
He stood.
“Gary! My old friend,” My Dad called out with his arms out, heading over to welcome the oldest, most handsome man I've ever seen, with his grey hair neatly permed.
“So good to see you again, my Boy,” Gary called out to my father, jokingly, as they hugged and laughed at the way they had introduced each other.
Even without an introduction, his presence dominated the room. His eyes were fixed on my father, unreadable, calculating, like a man already ten steps ahead.
So this was him. The man my mother feared.
Something about him unsettled me instantly. But before I could process it—
My eyes shifted, and the world tilted.
I saw Him!.
The stranger.
No.
No, no, no.
My heart slammed violently against my ribs as my mind tried and failed to catch up with what I was seeing.
He sat there like he belonged…dark suit, crisp white shirt, confidence worn like a second skin. Not the man from the club. Nor the stranger from the sheets.
This version of him was worse.
Our eyes met, and the room disappeared.
Something unreadable flickered across his face- not surprise, not satisfaction. Recognition. And something darker. Then his mouth curved…not into a smile, but something dangerous.
The room blurred at the edges.
Last night crashed into me at once…His voice. His touch. His lips. The way he looked at me was like I was something to consume.
And now, he was sitting there. Calm and collected. Like nothing had happened.
“Miriam,” my father’s voice cut in, pulling the attention of the room toward me. “This is Mr. Gary Scott…”
But I wasn’t listening anymore.
But my father continued—
“…and his son. David Scott.”
The words hit like a gunshot. HIS SON!
I had s*x with my father's business partner. This was why everything felt wrong. I was still trying to process the shock until my father dropped another bomb.
“Miriam is my daughter; she came back from college a few days ago and has chosen to work with her old man,” A lie that slipped easily from my father's mouth with deceiving smiles, like I never had a voice of my own.
“Miriam will be overseeing the campaign from our end,” my father said. “She’ll be acting as your campaign manager throughout this partnership.”
Campaign manager!
My stomach dropped. I resisted the urge to voice my concerns and question my Father's arrangement, but I remembered his earlier words about composing myself. I bit my lips and forced myself to stay composed.
The stranger—no—David’s gaze slid back to me, slow and deliberate, before returning to the room like nothing had happened.
But his voice dipped…just enough.
“Looks like we’ve already met.”
My heart pounded hard.
- Writer
