Lucy's POV
The sound of shattering glass sent me cowering behind the living room sofa, my heart pounding violently in my chest. Through the gap between cushions, I watched my father—John Winston—smash another crystal tumbler against the wall, sending shards flying across our immaculate marble floor.
"Lucy Winston!" he roared, his face contorted with rage. "Look what you've done to us!"
This had been our reality for three days now—ever since the video I'd posted backfired spectacularly. Dad had just returned from confronting reporters lurking in the bushes around our home, his patience clearly at its breaking point.
"John, please calm down," my mother pleaded, rushing to place herself between us as he advanced toward my hiding spot. "The neighbors will hear!"
"Let them hear!" he shouted, shoving her aside. "Let everyone hear how my own daughter has ruined us!"
I shrank further behind the sofa as he grabbed another glass from the bar cart. Mom scrambled to her feet and threw herself in front of me, her back to Dad as he raised his arm.
"John! This is your own daughter!" she cried, her body trembling but refusing to move.
The glass hit the wall inches from her head. "My own daughter?" he laughed bitterly. "Is that how a daughter treats her father? By destroying everything I've built?"
He gestured wildly toward the windows. "Reporters outside our house! Photographers camping outside my office! Three business partners have already canceled our contracts because they're afraid of offending Adam Lancaster!"
"I told the truth!" I shouted back, finally finding my voice. "It's not my fault everyone believes Stella's lies! All those people supporting her—they're just afraid of Adam's money and power!"
The slap came so suddenly I didn't even see it coming. One moment I was defending myself, the next my cheek was burning and my ears were ringing. Through my disorientation, I heard another slap—this one connecting with my mother's face as she tried to intervene.
*This control freak, finally even his most beloved daughter isn't spared.*
"Anna, if you defend her one more time, you can pack your bags and go back to your parents!" Dad warned, his voice dropping to a dangerous whisper. "And you," he pointed at me, "will go to Lancaster Manor tomorrow and apologize to Stella."
"No!" I refused, tears streaming down my face. "I did nothing wrong! Why should I apologize to that gold-digging bitch?"
Dad grabbed my arm so tightly I could feel bruises forming beneath his fingers. "You will apologize, or I'll throw you out on the street with nothing but the clothes on your back. Is that clear?"
The look in his eyes told me he meant every word.
Stella's POV
"Mr. and Mrs. Lancaster," our driver announced as we approached the manor gates, "Mr. John Winston and Miss Lucy Winston are waiting at the entrance."
I exchanged a surprised glance with Adam. The Winstons were the last people I expected to find at our doorstep.
"Do you want to see them?" Adam asked quietly, his hand finding mine in a subtle show of support.
I hesitated only briefly before nodding. "Yes. Let's see what they want."
Even though I have zero desire to see these people, it's better to understand their true intentions.
As our car pulled up to the grand entrance of Lancaster Manor, I immediately spotted John and Lucy standing awkwardly beneath the portico. John's face broke into an obsequious smile at the sight of us, while Lucy stood slightly behind him, her posture rigid and eyes downcast.
"Stella, darling!" John exclaimed with excessive enthusiasm as we stepped out of the car. "Adam, my dear son-in-law!"
He extended his hand toward Adam, who merely regarded it with such cold indifference that John awkwardly withdrew the gesture, his smile faltering.
How ridiculous, this man was cold and nasty the last time we met, now he's wagging his tail like a begging dog.
"Winston," Adam acknowledged with minimal courtesy.
"We've come with good intentions," John explained, his voice carrying that fake warmth I knew all too well. "Lucy has something she'd like to say to Stella."
He placed his hand on Lucy's shoulder, pushing her forward slightly. I didn't miss the way she flinched at his touch or the flash of fear in her eyes. As she moved, her sleeve rode up just enough to reveal purplish bruises circling her wrist.
He hit her. John Winston actually hit his precious biological daughter.
"Go on, Lucy," John prompted, his gentle tone contradicted by the hard look in his eyes.
Lucy stood trembling before me, her gaze fixed somewhere near my feet. "I'm sorry," she managed, her voice barely audible.
Something about her subdued demeanor—so different from her usual defiance—stirred an unexpected feeling within me. I recognized the signs all too well; I'd been in her position more times than I could count.
"I'd like to speak with Lucy alone," I said suddenly.
John looked alarmed. "That's not necessary—"
"It is," I insisted.
"Stella—" Adam began, concern evident in his voice.
"It's fine," I assured him, then turned to John. "You wait here with my husband."
Adam didn't look convinced. "At least let security check her for weapons first."
I nodded, understanding his caution. One of the manor's security guards approached with a handheld metal detector, quickly sweeping it over Lucy, who stood motionless throughout the procedure.
"She's clean, sir," the guard confirmed.
Adam's eyes met mine, a clear message in them. "Go ahead. I'll wait right here."
His words carried an unmistakable warning that wasn't meant for me—and by the way Lucy paled slightly, she understood it perfectly.
I love when Adam is like this, not needing to shout, just a few simple words that make the other person tremble.
I led Lucy to a secluded bench surrounded by meticulously trimmed hedges, far enough from the entrance to ensure privacy but still within sight of the security cameras I knew monitored the grounds.
"What's this about?" Lucy asked as soon as we sat down, her voice carrying forced bravado. "Want to gloat now that public opinion has turned against me? I'm not giving you a public apology, so forget it."