Chapter 87 Nightmare Project
Veronica's POV:
"Father is just coming up with new ways to torture us," Theo sighed, scrolling through the email on his phone with an expression of pure dread.
"What now?" Max asked, leaning over to read the screen.
"He's the host of the Debutante Ball this year," Theo said, his voice flat. "And he expects us both to take the lead on organizing it."
Max let out a long groan. "This is exactly why I never worked for him, you know. Now see what happens? Dad's already assigning us impossible projects. The Debutante Ball is a nightmare... six hundred guests, sponsor coordination, the presentation ceremony, managing all those socialite families and their expectations..."
Theo slumped back on the couch, looking more defeated than I'd seen him since he'd gotten proper rest. "Our beach days are over, brother. We need to go back to New York and handle this."
"But Veronica... you can stay here if you wish... you know, you still can't see your father," Theo said hesitantly.
"No, I am ready now," I said, feeling heavy inside. "I can't be hiding away forever. I should talk to him and take over the company."
It was time to know where I stood in his life. Time to stop wondering and actually confront the truth. "Let us just leave now."
My father's Upper East Side townhouse looked exactly as I remembered... it was perfectly maintained. I stood on the front steps for a full minute before I could bring myself to ring the bell.
The housekeeper answered, her expression carefully neutral when she saw me. "Miss Whitmore. He's expecting you in his studies."
Of course, he was. He always knew when I was coming, even when I didn't tell him.
I climbed the familiar stairs, my heels clicking against marble that probably cost more than most people's cars. The study door was open, and my father sat behind his massive mahogany desk, reading something on his tablet.
He didn't look up when I entered.
I stood there for a full two minutes... I counted... while he continued reading, purposely making me wait. A power play. One of many he'd perfected over the years.
"Father," I finally said, my voice steady despite the churning in my stomach.
He glanced up briefly, his eyes skating over me with the kind of assessment usually reserved for evaluating merchandise. Then he looked back down at his tablet.
"The expo went well, I heard," he said, his tone suggesting he was discussing the weather rather than my career-defining achievement.
"It did."
"Mmm." He finally set down the tablet. "Investors approached you?"
"Several."
"And you're pursuing which opportunities?"
I wanted to scream. This was what I got? After weeks of silence, after pouring everything into rebuilding my career, after succeeding on a global stage... he was speaking to me as if we were in a business meeting?
"I'm still evaluating options," I said carefully.
"Evaluate faster. You're not getting any younger, Veronica. And your recent choices have made certain doors more difficult to open."
There it was. The dig about Chase, about leaving him, about the "scandal" of our public breakup.
My father reached into his desk drawer and pulled out a cream-colored envelope. The kind used for high-society invitations.
"The Ashford Debutante Ball," he said, sliding it across the desk toward me. "You'll attend. And you'll make an effort with Ethan this time."
I felt my jaw clench. "Are you still involved with my toxic ex?!"
"He'll be there. Just win him back."
"I'm not interested in Ethan Carrington," I cut him off.
"Your interest is irrelevant," my father said coldly. "You've had your little rebellion with Chase. You've embarrassed this family enough. Now it's time to make a strategic alliance that actually benefits us."
"Why are you always so obsessed with Ethan?" I demanded, raising my tone despite my attempts to stay calm. "You've been pushing him at me for years. He's a fraud, Father. And worse... he's a stalker. He showed up at my hotel uninvited, he tracked my movements, he..."
"Ethan Pemberton is from one of the finest families in New York," my father interrupted, his voice hardening. "If he's shown persistent interest in you, well, despite everything that you did to him... you should be flattered, not dramatic."
"Persistent interest? He's..."
"Enough." My father's hand came down on the desk with a sharp crack. "You will attend the ball. You will be pleasant to Ethan. And you will stop this nonsense with the Ashford brothers."
I froze. "What?"
"Don't insult my intelligence, Veronica. I know about your... arrangement. Living in their beach house, this filthy contract you've signed, playing the brothers against each other like some kind of prize to be won."
Heat flooded my face. How did he know about the contract?
"It's not like that... I'm in love with an Ashford," I said, the words bursting out before I could stop them.
I didn't specify which one. Couldn't, because I still didn't fully know myself.
My father's expression didn't change. "No, you're not. You're infatuated. And even if you were genuinely in love, it doesn't matter."
"Because your desires never matter to me," my father said dismissively. "It ends now. You're in love with the idea of rebelling against me, and you've chosen the Ashfords as your weapon. But it's a fling, Veronica. Nothing more. They will very soon dump you and move on... and you should look after your life..."
"But you have misunderstood them..."
"Your marriage can never happen with an Ashford," he said flatly. "Ashford and Whitmore can never get together. Not in any meaningful way. What you're having with those brothers is just a fling, and the sooner you accept that, the less painful this will be."
The certainty in his voice... the absolute conviction that what I felt was meaningless, that any future with either brother was impossible... it should have made me angry.
And I was angry. But I was also curious.
"Why?" I asked, leaning forward. "Why can Ashford and Whitmore never get together? What aren't you telling me?"
My father's eyes flickered... just for a second, it was a crack in his carefully maintained composure.
"That's not your concern."
"It absolutely is my concern if you're dictating who I can and can't love based on some secret..."
"There are things you don't understand about the history of our families," my father said, taking on a warning tone. "Things that happened before you were born. And those things make any alliance between Ashford and Whitmore impossible."
"Then explain them to me," I challenged. "Tell me why. Give me a real reason instead of just commands and dismissals."
"No."
"Father..."
"This conversation is over." He stood, signaling my dismissal. "You'll attend the Debutante Ball. You'll be nice to Ethan Pemberton. And you'll end whatever nonsense is happening with the Ashford brothers. Those are my expectations. Meet them or face the consequences."