"Richard Whitmore recently brought in a new protégé. Focus your attention there."
"Understood."
For the next few days, I buried myself in the tax audit, ignoring every call from the Whitmore residence.
Until I was cornered outside my office building after work.
Margaret stepped out of a waiting car, blocking my path.
"Rena, I finally found you. Your father's waiting at home." She sighed. "Stop being difficult. You haven't been back in nearly a month. Come home tonight. We're family—there's nothing we can't work out."
I wanted to refuse. But my superior's car was still parked behind me. I didn't want a scene. Gritting my teeth, I stepped into the vehicle.
When we arrived, the front door opened to a picture-perfect tableau: Vanessa pouring tea for Richard at the head of the table.
He looked up, brow furrowing instantly.
"So, you finally decided to show your face."
"If I'm unwelcome, I can leave. I'm quite busy."
I turned on my heel.
Margaret caught my arm.
Richard scoffed. "Busy? With what?"
"Work."
"Work?" A sneer curled his lip. "Some low-level job paying two or three thousand a month, and you think that justifies this attitude? Without my support, what decent job could you possibly find?"