Chapter 65

At the swanky restaurant, Philip showed Teresa off to Henry Schneider, the middle-aged, well-fed general manager of Schneider Group. Henry’s eyes roamed over Teresa’s stunning figure, a little too long for comfort.

“Philip, you’ve always bragged about your beautiful daughter, but up close, she’s drop-dead gorgeous—straight out of a magazine,” Henry remarked, his grin a tad too eager.

Teresa’s brow knitted at his slick compliment, a pit of unease forming in her stomach. She tried to slip away, but Philip clutched her arm, his grip firm. “Get through dinner with Mr. Schneider, for the company’s sake,” he murmured, his smile never wavering.

For the group’s prospects, Teresa clenched her jaw and stayed put. As the night wore on, Henry kept Teresa’s wine glass full, and Philip prompted her to make a toast. With a deep breath, she complied, the alcohol blurring her vision and her head swimming.

Later, Teresa jolted awake to find her head on the table and the room spinning. Philip had disappeared, and Henry, with a malicious glint in his eye, had locked the door, trapping her.

“Your dad sold you to me, sweetheart. Now I’m gonna enjoy what I bought,” Henry said, leering at Teresa and closing in.

Teresa’s eyes widened in disbelief. “No way,” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

“I gave your dad 1.5 million. You really think I’m doing this for free?” Henry said, stepping closer to Teresa. “I told him I wanted to spend one night with you, and he jumped at the chance to send you over.”

Tears welled in Teresa’s eyes as she fumbled for her phone and dialed Philip’s number. It went straight to voicemail, the robotic tone echoing in the silent room. Her heart sank, cold and heavy, like a stone to the ocean floor. It was a breaking point; no turning back. The bond they shared as father and daughter was gone. A man like him didn’t deserve to be her father.

What hurt more was the realization that he’d never had faith in her. She could have helped by paying back the 1.5 million, but he’d never given her the chance.

Sometimes, children yearn for their parents’ approval by studying hard, getting into good schools, and working hard as adults, but the worst pain comes when parents don’t believe in their kids at all.

With his gaze fixed on Teresa’s tear-streaked face, Henry began to take off his jacket. “Let me comfort you,” he said, his voice dripping with insincerity.

As Henry reached for her, Teresa swatted his hand away. “Don’t touch me,” she snapped.

The door burst open, interrupting Henry’s advance. Henry’s face turned red with anger—he’d made sure that door was locked. A restaurant staff member stood beside Truman, who had orchestrated the interruption. The staff member explained that this gentleman said the door was acting up and needed fixing.

“Teresa, are you okay?” Truman asked, his voice filled with concern as he hurried over.

Teresa managed a bitter smile. “My dad sold me. Can you believe it? The irony of family bonds,” she said, tears streaming down her face.

Truman, his heart aching for her, helped her to her feet, wrapping his coat around her shoulders as he guided her out.

However, Henry fumed for having thrown away 1.5 million for nothing, not even touching Teresa.

Meanwhile, Jonathan was at the Worvey branch, just finishing a meeting when photos were delivered to him. His eyes narrowed as he examined the images. In the photos, Teresa, wrapped in Truman’s coat, was being comforted by him, her tears evident as he gently stroked her hair.

Jonathan tossed the photos to his secretary. “Find out who took these,” he ordered.

“Should I find out who sent these, Mr. Lynn?” the secretary asked.

Jonathan shook his head. “No, find out who made her cry like this,” he said, his voice steely.

The secretary hesitated and then nodded. Mr. Lynn noticed another guy comforting Ms. Johnston, but he was more worried about why she was crying, he thought to himself.

“Wait!” Jonathan stopped the secretary again. “Book me the fastest flight back to Nareigh, I need to get back there now.”

“But Mr. Lynn, you have two meetings scheduled for tomorrow,” the secretary reminded him.

“Forget them,” Jonathan replied. He remembered Hayden’s words—money could be made anytime, but some things, once missed, could be gone for good. Jonathan understood the urgency.