Ellen’s POV

I sat back, opposite him, and placed my phone on his table. His expression was downcast, and I knew something was wrong.

“Dad, are you alright?” I asked softly, my voice laced with concern.

He looked up, weariness etched on his face. “The lawyer’s awake,” he said gravely. “He’s conscious.”

My heart leaped; worry surged through me. “What’s he saying? Has he done anything? Said anything?” I pressed urgently. If the lawyer woke up and started talking, all our hard work would be ruined.

His response was firm. “I’m watching him. If he says anything, I’ll finish what I started four years ago.”

Shock coursed through me. “Dad, what do you mean by ‘what you started’?” I demanded.

He met my gaze steadily. “Yes, Ellen, what I started. There are things you should know. Don’t expect me to tell you everything. I knew my mother, your Grandma Monica, would betray me.”

“Dad, does this have anything to do with Aunt Fiona?” I asked, noticing the bitterness in his tone and the hurt in his eyes as he spoke of Grandma Monica.

“Yes. Everything,” he replied, forcefully tapping the table. He was clearly hurt, but he’d avoided this topic for years. I decided to press him.

“Dad, do you want to talk about it?” I paused, watching his reaction. “I promise to listen and keep it confidential, if that’s what you want.”

I’d been desperate to hear the details about Grandma Monica, my father, and Aunt Fiona.

He sighed. “Fiona was a sweetheart,” he began, his voice tinged with emotion. “Everyone adored her, and Mother showered her with affection, leaving me in the shadows.”

I listened intently as he told Fiona’s story. “She established the Cancer Children’s Foundation,” he said proudly. “It was her passion project.”

(My internal thought: Sounds like a lot of charity work. Ugh, shady.)

“That foundation is what your mother’s running now,” he continued.

My curiosity overwhelmed me. “How did Mother get the foundation? Who gave it to her?”

“Calm down, Ellen,” he said gently but firmly. “I’m getting there.”

“Sorry, Father,” I apologized, waiting for him to continue.

“Fiona was everyone’s favorite. She reached out to people, sought donations internationally, and organized numerous charity events,” he explained. “Her kindness was so genuine, people couldn’t believe she came from a wealthy family.”

He then recounted how Fiona always overshadowed him. It was always about her achievements and accolades.

(My internal thought: I would have hated her too.)

He recounted a specific incident: his drunk driving arrest. When Grandma Monica bailed him out, she was furious. “Look at Fiona,” she’d scolded him, “doing great things, while you’re getting into trouble.”

“Do you know the most embarrassing part?” he asked.

I was ready to ask questions, but it was the other way around. “No, Dad. What was it?”

The worst, he admitted, was his mother declaring Fiona would be in charge of everything because of his mistakes. And it was always “Fiona this, Fiona that.” Everything revolved around Fiona, and his mother neglected him because of her.

Despite his efforts, he could never win his mother’s approval. “I gave up,” he sighed. “Nothing pleased her.”

My heart ached for him; he’d clearly suffered.

He continued, “She was a good child. She did everything Grandma Monica wanted.”

Fiona excelled as a lawyer, graduating top of her class. Many companies sought her counsel. The Manor company’s legal department thrived under her.

Despite her success, Fiona’s achievements were quickly forgotten after her death. “That’s how this world is,” he lamented. “They forget you once you’re no use to them.”

That’s why he focused on his family. It was a lot to process.

He continued, “But things changed for Fiona and Grandma Monica when Fiona fell in love.”

I frowned. “How could falling in love cause problems?”

He nodded. “It wasn’t just who she fell in love with, but who that person was.”

My mind raced. Who could it be?

He answered, “Fiona fell for one of Grandma Monica’s security guards. He didn’t have a degree, barely finished high school. Just a poor, miserable-looking young man.”

(My internal thought: What? She fell for a pauper?!)

Fiona saw something different in him. “She saw something in him,” my father added, earning a giggle from me.

“But Grandma Monica strongly disapproved.” My eyes widened as it clicked.

“For the first time,” he continued, “Fiona defied Mother. Grandma Monica had arranged a marriage for Fiona with the son of another wealthy family.”

I listened as he explained Fiona’s adamant opposition, threatening to give up everything if she couldn’t marry the man she loved. “She was willing to sacrifice everything—her career, her education. Despite Mother’s attempts to reason with her, Fiona stood her ground. She eloped with the security guard, marrying far away.”

Grandma Monica was consumed by anger and sorrow, searching relentlessly for Fiona. When news of Fiona’s death in childbirth reached them, Grandma Monica arrived too late. “Grandma Monica blamed the security guard,” my father explained. “She had him arrested.”

Fiona’s loss devastated Grandma Monica. My father managed the company alone. Five years later, Grandma Monica returned, renewed and determined. She’d returned with a six-year-old girl for him to adopt. She said she'd found the child after a charity visit and offered him three company subsidiaries and the Cancer Foundation if he agreed to adopt the child.