Emilia Harvey stared at the shattered porcelain scattered across her feet, her brow knitting in confusion. Elopement? Faking her death? A wild man?
She turned her gaze toward the source of the outburst on the sofa. The man had aged, sure, but his features still carried the ghost of boyish charm—the fading echo of a once-handsome youth.
Landen Owens. Her biological father. According to Milana, Landen Owens was famously devoted to his wife and notoriously soft on his daughter. But right now, there was zero sign of that.
Had Milana lied to her? Emilia shot a quick, instinctive glance at Milana, who looked just as taken aback—every bit as clueless as Emilia about the scene unfolding in front of them.
A gentle voice sliced through the tension.
"Oh, Landen, don't get all worked up."
A woman with carefully styled hair, seated beside Landen, took his hand and murmured soothingly, "Look, the important thing is Emilia's back. That's a good thing, isn't it?"
"Hmph! Spoiled rotten by her mother! Always so stubborn and domineering!"
Landen seemed to settle a little under the woman's calming touch, but his tone still bristled with grievance.
The woman patted his hand, shot him a playful look, then rose and made her way to Emilia.
She clasped Emilia's hand, her eyes glistening, and let out a soft sigh. "Emilia, sweetheart, don't be scared. Your father's just upset that you've been gone for three years, leaving your duties behind."
"Now that you're back, it'd be perfect for you to settle down with Joseph Cook. As for this young man..." She glanced at Zahir Willis, who seemed jolted, half-hiding behind Emilia. A flicker of disdain crossed her face before she continued, "Maybe we can just give him some money and send him on his way."
Hearing that, Landen finally relaxed a bit, waving his hand dismissively. "Listen to your Aunt Felicity. That country boy doesn't belong in the Owens household."
With that, he slid a check for five hundred thousand across the table toward Zahir, his tone dripping with condescension. "Take this check and leave."
Zahir stared at the check, his grip tightening around Emilia's hand.
Feeling the tension ripple through him, Emilia glanced over. His usually confident face was now etched with humiliation, and his eyes shimmered with tears he stubbornly refused to let fall—like a fragile flower standing defiant in a storm.
Emilia gently wiped the tears threatening to spill from his eyes, then ruffled his hair. "Why are you crying? Scared by a barking dog?"
Zahir burst out laughing at that.
Landen's face went dark. He slammed his hand on the table, jabbing a finger at Emilia. "Emilia! Where are your manners? Have you turned into some uncultured country bumpkin in the last three years?"
The woman hid a satisfied smirk behind her composed mask. Perfect. Emilia—proud, stubborn Emilia—would never tolerate that kind of insult from Landen. With her temper, she'd spin on her heel and storm out. And if she walked away? Then control of the Harvey family...
She quickly suppressed her excitement and reached for Emilia's hand, feigning concern. "Oh dear, Emilia, you—"
*Smack.*
Emilia smacked the woman's hand away without missing a beat. "Enough with the theatrics."
The woman yelped and yanked her hand back, pain tingling up her arm.
Without sparing her another glance, Emilia grabbed Zahir and swept past her, her strides long and purposeful.
It took everything the woman had not to let her mask crack.
Emilia then settled onto the sofa beside Landen, pulling Zahir down next to her.
Landen was stunned by her sheer audacity. His eyes widened as he growled, "Emilia, you—"
*Bang!*
Emilia casually picked up a fruit knife from the table and hurled it straight at Landen.
A flash of silver cut through the air.
Before Landen could even process what was happening, the knife embedded itself in the sofa cushion beside his thigh, the handle still quivering.
One inch closer... and his blood would have been spilled.
His body went rigid. He stared at the knife buried next to him, cold sweat beading on his brow.
Slowly, he raised his eyes to Emilia—fear creeping into his gaze.
Had his daughter lost her mind in just three years?
Emilia ignored his stricken expression. She calmly tugged the knife free from the sofa, leaned back at ease, and twirled it between her fingers, a faint smirk curling her lips. "Mr. Owens, I think you've got something twisted."
"What did you call me?" Landen's voice cracked, disbelief flooding his features.
Emilia didn't answer. She kept going. "First of all, as far as I'm aware, this is the Harvey estate. You're an Owens—what makes you think you can throw your weight around here?"
"Secondly, you look down on Zahir for being from the countryside, but let's be real, Mr. Owens—your own roots aren't exactly shining. Money really does go to people's heads, doesn't it?"
Her words rang in Landen's ears like thunder—each one a stinging slap to his pride.
Then something flickered across Emilia's face, something that twisted into an all-too-familiar expression from his past.
Old humiliations. The nightmares that had haunted him for decades. All of it crashed over him at once.
Landen's face burned with shame, and fury made his chest heave. His authority crumbled into dust. "Yo-you..." he sputtered, his face turning ruddy with anger.
Watching him nearly choke on his rage, Emilia just smiled, soft and civil. "At the end of the day... you're just a live-in son-in-law here. And bringing your mistress home? Really, Mr. Owens. That takes some nerve."
The intel from Milana hadn't mentioned this woman at all.
Clearly, she wasn't part of the Harvey or Owens clan.
The intimate, tangled glances she stole with Landen made her role all too obvious.
So this was the "change in the Harvey family" Joseph had hinted at.
"Wait... Uncle is just a son-in-law?" Zahir suddenly piped up, doing a terrible job of hiding his shock and disdain as he eyed Landen. "If I were in his shoes, being Emilia's husband would be worth dying for."
He went on, "Forget bringing a mistress home—I wouldn't even think about looking at another woman!"
"Back in my village, men who cheat and drag mistresses back home get a lot worse than a slap on the wrist."
Zahir picked up the check Landen had shoved at him, then slowly tore it to pieces, letting the scraps flutter to the floor.
With an innocent blink, he added mischievously, "Acting like a big shot with Emilia's money, huh? Wow. Impressive."
Landen's eyes rolled with fury at the both of them, his complexion turning an ugly shade of purple.
"Enough! That's enough, Emilia! You've been gone three years, and this is how you repay me? Siding with outsiders and turning against your own father?"
With a bellow, Landen shouted, "Guards! Seize this ungrateful daughter and that gutter trash!"