Done With My Ex, Moving To The Next

Chapter 30: Ruling In The Lion's Den

Chapter 30: Ruling The Lion's Den

STELLA

I walked into my father’s office after wrestling with the question of whether he even deserved my time. I knew the answer, yet I pushed myself to see him.

Rhys had tried to talk me out of it after I told him about Marcus's invitation but I insisted. I wanted to see him and listen to the lies he'd tell again.

Every step down the corridor to his office felt heavier than the last. Heads turned. Conversations dipped into whispers. I caught fragments of my name floating through the air like smoke.

His secretary looked up as I passed, eyes wide, lips parting as if she wanted to stop me. She didn’t.

Good. Because nothing would have stopped me.

My fingers curled around the handle.

The metal felt cold… almost warning.

I pushed the door open. He came into view, dropping the phone from his ear the moment I walked in.

I didn't raise my eyes to his. I stood, not taking a seat in his office.

“Stella," He said my name with a horrible softness in his tone.

I hated that tongue of his: it only reeked of lies and malice, as if enough evidence hadn't been painted on his face.

“How are you, daughter?" He asked, smiling. My eyes met his—he wore shamelessness like an expensive clothing, glorifying his evil deeds like a trophy. I tried to spot the tiniest hint of guilt in his eyes but, but I realized he'd always been like that. He'd always been perfect. Spotless.

"I have been good, what did you call me—”

"Can't you exercise patience with me?"

I c****d a brow at him. He wasn't worthy of speaking to me in a tone like that.

I wasn't his daughter anymore and it only angered me that he was assuming a relationship that had died in me, a long time ago.

“I know you are angry. Yes, you should be"A sudden heat stirred inside of me like a starting tornado. Anger? No.

He smiled, no words leaving my lips. I waited for the tangible thing but he had to say but he'd wasted over twenty minutes of my time, giving useless remarks about my dress and hair.

“I have to go. It was not nice discussing with you"I got up, ready to leave with my bag in my hand already but he interrupted me.

“Just five more minutes, Stella” He raised his index.

I brought my eyes to my wristwatch before I sat back. I didn't utter a word.

“It's about Dylan" He paused. I didn't raise my eyes but my body reacted to that name with a sting. “Actually, I collected your bride price already" he passed again, probably when he realized his confession didn't catch me off guard.

I'd heard this countless times—from Taylor, from Dylan’s fans who thought he was all perfect, from my sister, Rebekah. I just knew there was more to the secrets between him, Taylor, and Dylan.

I glanced at my screen, and Rhys's message had just flashed on my screen. He was asking if my ‘daddy’ wasn't stressing me out.

“Can you do this once again?" My so-called Father asked.

For a second or so, I drowned in confusion

as I settled on the sofa, I asked, “What do you mean?" I lied. I wasn't confused, I only wanted to be sure of his stupidity.

"Be with Dylan again. This time, he promised not treat you badly. He'll never lay a finger on’—”

God knew I couldn't hide my disgust. Somehow, it was always becoming evident. "So you truly are shameless, you own no bit of shame”

He paused, while we exchanged glances. He didn't expect me to speak to him like that but one thing I loved was how he studied me with his eyes.

Up and down as I spoke.

I studied as his brows c****d up and down, waiting for me to say what he wanted to hear.

“You really have no apology to tender?" I questioned. A part of me knew he would never but the other kept hoping he would.

I'd healed from it all but an apology was the least I expected from him.

"Honey, what—”

"I am not your honey, Mr Scott.” I shook my head, disregarding his words as I sprang out of the sofa.

“Ste—" He tried to call my name but I had gotten just enough of his crap, for me to lose the control I had since I walked in.

“You really have no fear, do you? What kind of man are you? A demon? A death planner?" I paused but his gaze was thrown elsewhere.

Rhys was right. He didn't deserve my attention in any way.

“You pushed me to death and now, you want me back there?” I raised my voice that it cracked.

"What authority do you f*****g have over me to ask me to do something like that again?” Everyone had a trigger. Maybe I'd just pulled his and the funny part? I didn't care at all.

He got up from his chair, walking towards me from the other side.

I didn't flinch even as he moved close enough to me.

My so-called Father stood toe-to-toe with me and muttered, “I am your Father, you seem to have forgotten, right?”

He ran a finger down my cheek while my gaze stilled. I didn't flinch or breathe heavily, even as his body structure stood against mine.

I maintained a calm appearance but on the inside, heaven knew I was burning in flames.

“Now guess what? A plot twist." I winked at him, tearing my lips into a smirky smile. “ I had already disowned you long before you disowned me on live and national TV. I'd rather rent a father than ever identify with you” I hadn't said anything horrible. All I had said was the bitter truth.

He sent a slap across my face before I could catch my breath or even turn to leave. It stung but only my cheeks did, not my eyes.

I held the hand of my bag tightly, mirroring his gaze.

“I swear, I'll let this one slide, Mr. Marcus Scott. I swear that the next time you raise your hand at me —" I hit pause with my words and even facial expression.

"There won't be a next time but if it ever happens,” My lips curved into a smile. That was enough warning. Enough to stop him next time because I really wouldn't let it slide. I swore to God.

I turned, leaving the office. It took me no time before I found my way to the park lot where Rhys was waiting for me with an already-started engine, just in case there'd be reporters who ‘wanted to interview me’ after seeing my Father after three years.

“Drive," I ducked into the seat, banging the door of the car.

He was still waiting. I didn't want to lose it. Not around Rhys.

“Move the f*****g car, Rhys!"

Rhys wasn't listening. Instead, he grabbed the hair that covered my cheeks, brushing his fingers over them.

"What is that?” He asked, his eyes darkening like a stormy night.

I turned my face, mumbling, “Nothing"

“What is that, Blaze?" I hated this question. I wanted to f*****g leave this place. “Did someone hit—"

He didn't complete his sentence before he got out of the car. “Rhys!" I tried calling his name but he wouldn't stop.

“Stay right in the car, Blaze. Don't leave until I'm back"

That was a warning. I knew something about Rhys and warnings. Whenever he gave a warning, he was up to something—it had never been a good deed.

I feared something would happen. Not to my Father. But to Rhys.

The thing I feared wasn't defeat. From the look on Rhys's face and how his jaw tightened, I knew what I feared.

Outburst.

Over-judgement.

My heart knew one thing: Rhys would never hurt me and he would never let anyone do. He'd said it many times and I'd seen him stand by that.

At that moment, the realization hit harder: Trust didn't feel like gambling. It felt like Rhys.