Chapter 10 How Cruel

Jessica had never imagined her father left behind anything of significance. Five years ago, she'd fled, burying him hastily, leaving Eldoria with no intention of ever returning. There had been no place for her to mourn, no space for her to find closure. "I understand. I'll reach out tomorrow," she said, her voice quiet, tinged with uncertainty. Dr. Chortleheim nodded, handing her his number before excusing himself to attend to another patient. The next day, after confirming Arthur was feeling better and settled into kindergarten, Jessica made her way to the office. Barely crossing the threshold, her phone rang. The secretary's voice was crisp, asking her to report to the CEO's office—Charles needed to see her. Minutes later, she stood outside Charles' office. He was on the phone, standing by the tall window. Upon hearing her approach, he acknowledged her with a brief nod and gestured for her to sit. The call ended swiftly. Charles moved across the room, his tall form casting a shadow over the space as he took his seat and slid a file across the desk. "This is the Montara Plaza project overview," he said, his voice firm. "The design is yours." Jessica's eyes widened. "Just ... me?" A flicker of amusement crossed his face as he raised an eyebrow. "What, you doubt yourself? Think you can't handle it?" "No, it's not that." She faltered, then added, "Thank you. For trusting me with this." It was unexpected—he hardly knew her, yet here he was, entrusting her with a significant project. "If your resume holds up, why wouldn't I trust your ability?" His gaze was steady, searching, as if weighing her every word. His scrutiny made her uneasy, but she couldn't quite place why. "I'll prove myself," she said, her smile faint but resolute. Before the silence could settle, the secretary knocked and entered, placing a thick envelope on the desk. "Mr. Hensley, this is from Mr. Hugh. A wedding anniversary dinner invitation for the 26th." Jessica's gaze was immediately drawn to the golden embossing. It stung, sharp and unwelcome. She remembered the announcement—their anniversary dinner, scheduled for today. The 26th. Her emotions stirred, but she clenched them down, gripping the file in front of her and leaving the office in silence. Later that evening, she met with Dr. Chortleheim at the agreed time. In his office, he placed a black box in front of her. "Your father asked me to give this to you." Jessica took it from him, her hands trembling slightly. "Thank you." She opened the box carefully. Inside, nestled on velvet, was an emerald pendant.Smooth and translucent, it gleamed softly in the light. She'd never seen her father wear such a thing. She turned it over in her hands, noting faint markings—an ancient script that she couldn't decipher. "Did my father leave any message for me?" she asked. Dr. Chortleheim shook his head slowly. "No ... at the time, he was in agony. I tried everything to save him. But ... if Mr. Hugh hadn't ordered us to stop the treatment … " His voice faltered, tripping over itself, as if the words slipped from him unwillingly. Jessica's breath hitched, her heart pounding in her chest. "What did you say? Hugh told you to stop treating my father?" The doctor realized his mistake too late. He raised a hand, his face tight. "Forget I said anything," he muttered. "Take the box and leave. I've patients to see." With that, he turned and hurried away, his footsteps echoing in the hallway. "Dr. Chortleheim … " Jessica called, but he was already too far gone, disappearing around the corner. Her mind spun. Her legs wavered beneath her. It couldn't be. Hugh. He had killed her father. How could he be so heartless? A torrent of fury roared to life inside her, an anger long buried, now unleashed. Her fingers curled tightly around the emerald pendant, her knuckles whitening. Five years ago today, her wedding had been ripped away, her name smeared with lies, her father's life extinguished. And now, today of all days, Hugh was celebrating with Rhea, holding a wedding anniversary party? She trudged out of the hospital, entered a nearby store, rented a gown, and changed quickly, each movement sharp with purpose. A cab was hailed, and soon, she was on her way to Weston Hotel. She couldn't let them revel in their happiness while she festered in pain. The thought of their smug smiles made her blood boil. The sounds of luxurious cars rolling up to the hotel reached her ears. The crowd was growing—so many here to celebrate them. Her smile turned colder. The more, the better. Inside, the doorman demanded invitations. Jessica, uninvited, hesitated. Then, just as quickly, a black Maybach pulled up. The car was flanked by security guards, their movements precise, a show of strength. The car stopped, and the door opened. Charles stepped out, his tall frame imposing, his presence enough to still the room. His sharp features exuded an authority that commanded attention. Jessica paused, struck by the power he radiated. He is the center of this storm. After Charles, an older man emerged from the car. He was tall and regal, his gray hair combed neatly, his robe of the finest cloth, his cane topped with a dragon's head. His gaze alone carried the weight of years, of experience, and of command. The crowd bowed, murmuring in unison. "Mr. Hensley Sr., Mr. Hensley, please, come in." Recognition hit Jessica like a blow. That was Dom Hensley, Charles's father. The Hensleys had come. Rhea had truly secured their loyalty. Charles and Dom moved toward the door. Jessica, her determination burning, tried to close the distance between them. But a security guard stepped in her way, blocking her path with practiced ease. "I'm with Mr. Hensley," Jessica said sharply, her voice firm. Charles heard the commotion. He paused, turning slowly. His gaze met Jessica's. His brow furrowed, but he remained silent. Dom, however, was quicker to react. "Who is she?" Dom's voice sliced through the air.