Alfred's voice reached me first—sharp, urgent, calling for the doctor.
I forced something like a smile, then turned my head.
My father sat on the sofa across the room. Roger Pruitt, tearing a newspaper to confetti with his bare hands.
"Fred Delgado, is it?"
"He dared do that to you. I'll make him pay with every last piece of the Delgado Group."
My father's jaw was clenched so tight the muscles in his face stood out.
His eyes were rimmed red—the kind of red that comes from holding it together when you shouldn't have to.
"The baby..."
I was quiet for a long moment before I could bring myself to ask.
One look at Alfred, the way he couldn't meet my eyes, and I already knew. The baby was gone.
A bitter laugh escaped me, then another.
I hated Fred Delgado for taking my child from me. But part of me was grateful the baby would never have to call a man like him father.
"Dad, I'm sorry."
My father's eyes went redder. After a long silence, he let out a heavy breath, stepped forward, and took my hand.
"Silly girl. How could I ever blame you?"
"I just wish you'd come home sooner."
The tears fell before I could stop them.
I'd run away years ago, desperate to prove I didn't need anyone. Then I convinced myself I'd found real love—went so far as to forge a new identity, told everyone I was an orphan with no family at all.
When I was young, I'd made my father so angry he was bedridden for days. After that, no matter how hard life got, I couldn't face him again.
And all that time, the one person who actually loved me had been sitting right here, waiting.
"Dad, let me handle Fred Delgado myself."
I drew a deep breath and pressed the bitterness down.
My father gave a firm nod. "Fine. Whatever you want to do, I'm behind you. No conditions."
I nodded back, my gaze hardening.
Two weeks later.
Delgado Group's cash flow collapsed entirely. But just when it looked like the end, the company landed an unexpected round of foreign investment out of nowhere.
After that, Fred strutted around telling anyone who'd listen that fate itself had chosen him.
In barely three months, Delgado Group's share price tripled, and the company went public.
Riding high, Fred booked the entire top floor of the most exclusive hotel in Kingsport for a celebration gala doubling as his engagement gala with Bianca Whitmore.
And he sent me a special invitation.
"Winifred—tired of rotting in the slums yet? Come watch. I climbed to the top without you. And while you're at it, get a good look at what a real high-society woman is supposed to be."
I laughed, cold and quiet.
"Fred Delgado. You're the one who begged me to come."
The night of the gala, the ballroom blazed with light, packed wall to wall with the city's elite.
Fred stood dead center under the spotlight, radiating triumph, Bianca draped at his side.
"Everything Delgado Group has achieved—we built it clean. We built it right."
"Not like my ex-wife. A greedy little orphan who used every dirty trick she could think of to bleed me dry."
"But I was lucky. I found the person who changed everything for me—the one running Pruitt Capital."
Admiration rippled through the crowd.
Then the ballroom doors swung open and a wall of bodyguards cut through.
They parted, and I walked in between them, unhurried.
The moment Fred saw me, the smile dropped from his face.
"Winifred? Are you here to cause a scene?"
He stared at me, his expression ice-cold.
I barely glanced at him.
"Didn't you invite me yourself? Told me not to hide in the slums, remember? So here I am—getting a good look at your engagement gala."
His face darkened. He must have been certain I'd never actually show up to be humiliated.
Yet here I stood.
"Fine, you're here. But what's with hiring all these bodyguards?"
He frowned.
Just as I'd expected. He still didn't believe a word I'd told him before.
"Tell me something, Fred. You don't actually believe you're some kind of chosen one—do you?"
I couldn't be bothered with small talk. I was going to expose him right here.
Fred froze, staring at me in confusion.
"I heard you've been dying to meet the investor who saved your company and took it all the way to IPO."
His expression darkened further.
"What are you trying to say?"
His voice was low, his jaw tight.
I smirked, pulled out a folder, and flung it straight into his face.
"What I'm trying to say is simple."
"That investor was me."
"Winifred!"
Fred's face went rigid, then flushed with humiliation.
"You've lost your mind!"
His voice cracked on the words, then he snarled, "You forged a Pruitt Capital contract?! Do you have any idea that's a criminal offense?!"
