BEFORE THE TIDE(2)
955 Words
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The sun blazed high, casting a golden shimmer over the bustling port. The tang of salt clung to the air, mingling with fish and tar. Workers moved briskly, unloading crates, mending nets, trading gossip in half-hushed tones.
“Did you hear what happened yesterday?” one muttered.
“What happened?” another asked.
Their words cut short as polished shoes clicked across the concrete. Mr. Winterson strode past in a tailored suit, his presence enough to silence the pier. The men straightened instinctively, eyes downcast, until he disappeared into his office overlooking the docks.
Inside, the wide windows framed the ships below. Mr. Winterson loosened his tie and sank into his chair, his voice crisp as he picked up the phone.
“Send Captain Emberwing to me,” he ordered, then set the receiver down.
A few minutes later, Captain Emberwing stepped inside, his weathered face tight with irritation.
“What now, Kaeo?” he asked flatly.
Mr. Winterson’s gaze hardened. “Warn your daughter. I don’t want her near Zayan again.”
Captain Emberwing’s jaw clenched. “My daughter has nothing to do with your son. And she is not someone you get to smear with your assumptions.”
Before Mr. Winterson could reply, hurried footsteps rang down the hall. The door burst open and Mr. White stormed in, fury etched across his face.
“You!” he roared, pointing a shaking finger. “Keep that heartless son of yours away from my daughter or so help me, Kaeo, you’ll regret it.”
Mr. Winterson rose slowly, adjusting his cufflinks with deliberate calm. “Watch yourself, Eryx. You’re standing in my office.”
“Don’t you dare lecture me!” Mr. White spat. “You think I’ve forgotten how you ruined me? My career, my reputation…gone, because of you. You sit in that chair like you earned it, but we both know you stole everything that put you there.”
For a moment, the only sound was the creak of ship rigging outside.
Captain Emberwing shifted uncomfortably, caught between them.
Mr. White stepped closer, his voice dropping to a venomous growl. “If Clara suffers because of your son, I’ll expose you. Every fraud, every dirty deal, you won’t hide forever. Enjoy your throne while it lasts.”
With that, he spun on his heel and stormed out, leaving the door gaping open. Workers in the hall froze mid-task, their whispers already swelling into gossip.
Mr. Winterson’s expression remained unreadable. He turned to Captain Emberwing, his voice low and cold.
“You’re dismissed.”
Captain Emberwing hesitated, then left with a sharp slam of the door.
Outside, dockhands murmured in clusters, piecing together the confrontation.
“Poor Mr. White,” one said under his breath. “His daughter is carrying the weight of her father’s and the Winterson's feud.”
Another shook his head grimly. “And Mr. White… he used to be the best fisherman before Winterson’s family banned him. A man like that doesn’t forget.”
–——
Sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, scattering pale patterns across the dining table where Miranda sat with her breakfast untouched. Her eyes were swollen from crying the night before, her lashes still damp. She kept her gaze lowered, her fork idle in her hand.
At the head of the table sat her father, Dr. Navid Morvan, a neurologist and professor, his posture rigid, his tone cutting.
“You disobeyed me, Miranda. I told you not to go to that island, and you went anyway.” His voice sharpened as his hand pressed against the table. “Do you ever stop to think of the consequences? Imagine if something bad had happened to you. If the Wesleys hadn’t brought you home.”
Miranda’s lips trembled, but no sound left her. Her hands shook around the fork until it slipped and clinked softly against the plate.
Miranda’s throat burned as she held back a sob. The memory of the night before came rushing back—the Wesleys guiding her up the steps, her father waiting at the door with a glare so fierce it had cut straight through her. He had shouted then, his voice echoing through the walls, every word heavier than the last. The humiliation still stung.
“My words hold no weight in this house, it seems,” Dr. Morvan said, his face stern. “From this moment forward, you’re grounded. No outings. No visits. You’ll stay here where I can see you. That’s final.”
At that, Mrs. Jasna Morvan shifted in her chair, her voice soft but steady. “Please, let’s not be too harsh. She’s still recovering, and...”
Her husband cut her off with a look that silenced the rest of her words. “Enough. What’s done is done. The rules stand.”
Dr. Morvan rose abruptly, pushing his chair back with a sharp scrape. “I’ve said all I need to say.” Without another word, he strode out, the front door closing firmly behind him.
Only then did Miranda’s composure shatter. Her shoulders hunched as sobs escaped, raw and uncontrollable.
Her mother rushed to her side, gathering her into a trembling embrace. She stroked Miranda’s hair with a hand that shook faintly.
“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispered, her voice low and aching.
“I’m sorry, Mom,” Miranda wept into her shoulder.
Mrs. Morvan kissed her temple, holding her tighter. “I know you are. Your father… he worries. But he doesn’t know how to say it without anger. Don’t let his harshness crush you, darling. Just… try to be careful.”
Miranda nodded through her tears, clinging to her mother, the weight of her father’s words still pressing heavy on her chest.
- Writer
