"Gwenda Evans, I know you're home. Open the door!" Benson's voice boomed from outside.

Inside, Olivier rose from his seat in the living room and approached Gwenda. "Who is that?"

"My father."

Gwenda frowned, reluctant to answer the door.

Olivier asked softly, "You don't want to see him?"

Gwenda remained silent.

Benson's voice, deeper now, cut through the air. "Gwenda, open this damned door! I'll give you one minute. If you don't, I'm calling someone to break the lock."

He paused, then added, "Do you want me to handle this?"

Olivier's face hardened.

Gwenda considered this for a moment before looking up at Olivier. "Could you please hide in the bedroom for a bit? I'll deal with him."

"Are you sure that's alright?"

"I'll be fine." She nodded.

"Alright," Olivier replied, retreating to the bedroom.

Gwenda rubbed her temples, took a deep breath, and opened the door.

Benson, about to shout, was momentarily stunned by her sudden appearance. He sneered, "Finally willing to open the door?"

"What's the matter?" Gwenda replied, her face impassive, her tone flat.

"I'm your father! Is that how you talk to me?"

Her nonchalance enraged him. His loud voice reverberated through the building. Gwenda, already unwell, felt her condition worsen. Rubbing her forehead, she sighed. "Why did you come?"

Benson, oblivious to her discomfort, was further angered by her cold demeanor. "Are you going to make me stand out here while we talk?"

After a moment's hesitation, Gwenda stepped aside. "Come in, then."

Once inside, Benson noticed a pair of men's leather shoes by the entryway. He frowned, surveying the apartment. Satisfied that no other man was present, he asked, "You have a new boyfriend?"

Gwenda paused, glancing subconsciously toward the bedroom before replying coldly, "I'm an adult, not a child. Can't I have a boyfriend?"

Their history was one of conflict. She always spoke to him with animosity, fueled by a lifelong rebellious streak. She could have explained, but her defiance overcame her, and she deliberately chose to antagonize him.

Benson bristled. He glared at her furiously. "I never said you couldn't have a boyfriend, but you should at least do a background check! Tell me honestly, who is he? Is he the one who found your studio?"

"You know about the studio?" Gwenda asked, surprised.

"Oh, please. You weren't even trying to hide it! The whole of KG Entertainment knows!" Benson snorted.

Gwenda's eyes flashed. She hadn't intended to hide it; his knowledge didn't bother her.

"So you came here to talk about the studio?" she said, seeing through his visit's purpose.

Benson didn't bother to deny it. "Yes! And about that boyfriend of yours!"

"I don't think there's anything to discuss," Gwenda said, sitting on the couch, feeling weak but maintaining her composure. "I don't need you to meddle in my affairs."

This further enraged Benson. "What the hell are you talking about? I'm doing this for your own good! Do you even know what you're doing? You're helping some outsider steal the family company's resources! Are you dumb?"

Gwenda remained silent. A dry smile played on her lips as she thought, Oh, he thinks the studio belongs to someone else, and I, his daughter, am helping that person. How incredibly funny.

She chose not to deny it. "I know what I'm doing. You don't need to worry."

"I don't care what you want to do," Benson retorted, frustrated. "I order you to leave that man, quit that job, and come home!"

Gwenda looked up at him coldly. "And why should I listen to you?"