PART 2.
“My little girl.
I’m coming for you.”
I thought I had called my father because I needed help escaping my marriage.
What I didn’t know was that Arthur Vance was already reviewing Julian Cross’s future that very night.
And Julian had absolutely no idea whose daughter he had just humiliated.
He had no idea that before the night was over, the woman he had left standing beneath his chandelier would become the most important person in the room.
And neither did I.
For several seconds after my father spoke, I couldn’t answer.
Three years disappeared in an instant.
I was twenty-eight again, standing in my father’s study while rain struck the windows, screaming that Julian loved me and that no amount of money would convince me otherwise.
My father had not raised his voice.
That had made me even angrier.
“Clarissa,” he had said, “a man who truly loves you will never need you to become smaller so he can feel larger.”
I had called him arrogant.
Controlling.
Cruel.
Then I had walked away from the Vance estate with two suitcases and enough pride to keep me silent for three years.
Now, sitting on the floor beside my vanity, I pressed the phone against my ear and whispered, “Dad, I’m sorry.”
“No.”
His answer came immediately.
“No apologies tonight.”
My throat tightened.
“I should have listened.”
“And I should have made sure you knew you could come home without admitting I was right.”
That broke something in me.
A sob escaped before I could stop it.
My father remained silent until I could breathe again.
Then the businessman returned to his voice.
Calm.
Precise.
Dangerous.
“Where is Julian?”
“At the Apex gala.”
There was a pause.
Not a surprised pause.
A calculating one.
“What?”
I asked.
“Nothing.”
“Dad.”
“Clarissa, pack what matters to you.
Documents.
Jewelry.
Anything sentimental.
Leave everything else.”
Something in his tone made me sit straighter.
“You knew about the gala.”
“Yes.”
“How?”
“Because I’m attending.”
My fingers went cold around the phone.
“You’re in Cleveland?”
“I landed forty minutes ago.”
I stared at my reflection.
My mascara had smudged beneath one eye.
My hair was still pinned in the simple twist Chloe had mocked.
“Why are you here?”
Another silence.
Then my father said, “Apex asked me to consider becoming the lead investor in their new infrastructure fund.”
My heartbeat stumbled.
Julian had talked about that fund for months.
Not by name.
He never discussed details with me anymore.
But I knew enough.
The partnership he wanted tonight wasn’t simply prestigious.
It was survival.
Cross Meridian, Julian’s company, had expanded too aggressively over the past year.
He had borrowed against future contracts, hired hundreds of employees, opened three new offices, and invested heavily in an acquisition he insisted would transform the business.
Everything depended on Apex.
And apparently Apex depended on my father.
I stood slowly.
“Does Julian know?”
“That Arthur Vance is interested?
Yes.”
“That Arthur Vance is my father?”
“No.”
The word almost made me laugh.
Of course he didn’t.
Julian had never cared enough to investigate the life I had given up for him.
When we met, I introduced myself as Clarissa Hale, using my late mother’s maiden name because I was tired of people changing once they learned who my father was.
Julian had loved that I was ordinary.
At least, I had thought he did.
Later, when I tried to explain why my family and I were estranged, he told me the past didn’t matter.
Apparently, he meant my past wasn’t worth knowing.
My father spoke again.
“I’m twenty minutes away.”
“I don’t want you coming here.”
“Clarissa—”
“I want to go to the gala.”
The silence that followed was different.
“You’re certain?”
I looked down at the navy gown Julian had hated.
My hands moved over the repaired seam.
For the first time, I understood something.
The dress wasn’t embarrassing.
My husband was.
“Yes,” I said.
“I’m certain.”
My father exhaled softly.
“Then don’t change.”
I frowned.
“What?”
“Wear exactly what you’re wearing.”
“But Julian—”
“I don’t care what Julian thinks.”
A faint edge entered his voice.
“And after tonight, neither will you.”
Twenty-two minutes later, headlights swept across the mansion windows.
Not one car.
Four.
The housekeeper, Mrs.
Alvarez, appeared in the foyer as I descended the staircase again.
She stared through the glass doors.
A black Rolls-Royce waited at the front steps, followed by three dark sedans.
The driver stepped out.
Then my father did.
Arthur Vance had aged.
That was the first thing I noticed.
His hair was almost completely silver now.
New lines marked the corners of his eyes.
But when he saw me through the doorway, he was no longer the billionaire whose name appeared on financial magazines.
He was simply my father.
He crossed the foyer faster than I expected.
I stopped three feet away.
For three years, I had imagined this reunion in a hundred different ways.
Arguments.
Accusations.
Cold politeness.
Instead, he wrapped his arms around me.
“Dad.”
His hand rested against the back of my head.
“You came home,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes.
“Yes.”
When we separated, he examined my face.
Then the dress.
His expression changed.
“This was your mother’s favorite color.”
I looked down.
“You remember?”
“I remember everything about your mother.”
His gaze moved to the repaired sleeve.
“And I remember buying you a closet full of gowns before your wedding.”
“I donated them.”
His eyebrow lifted.
“All of them?”
“I was proving a point.”
“To whom?”
I almost smiled.
“Mostly myself.”
“That sounds expensive.”
Despite everything, I laughed.
It was the first genuine laugh I had managed in months.
Then his attention shifted toward Mrs.
Alvarez.
“Has my daughter been treated well in this house?”
I stiffened.
“Dad.”
Mrs.
Alvarez hesitated.
That hesitation told him enough.
His jaw tightened.
But he did not ask again.
Outside, the driver opened the Rolls-Royce door.
My father offered me his arm.
“Ready?”
“No.”
He nodded.
“Good.”
I looked at him.
“Good?”
“Bravery rarely feels like readiness.”
We left.
Across the city, Julian Cross was having the best night of his life.
At least, that was what he believed.
The Apex Group gala occupied the Grand Hall of the Sterling Museum, where marble columns rose beneath a vaulted glass ceiling and two hundred guests moved beneath golden lights.
Julian stood beside Chloe near the center of the room.
She knew exactly how to position herself.
Close enough to suggest intimacy.
Far enough to avoid scandal.
Her fingers occasionally touched Julian’s sleeve as executives approached.
Julian didn’t stop her.
He was too busy watching the entrance.
“Relax,” Chloe murmured.
“I am relaxed.”
“You’ve checked the door seventeen times.”
Julian glanced at her.
“You counted?”
“I notice things.”
That was one reason he liked her.
Chloe noticed opportunities.
She understood that success required appearances.
Unlike Clarissa.
The thought irritated him.
He had spent years building himself into someone who belonged in rooms like this.
Clarissa never understood.
She called networking exhausting.
She disliked expensive restaurants.
She refused designer clothes even after he offered to buy them.
At first, her simplicity had been refreshing.
Later, it became humiliating.
A man on Julian’s trajectory needed a wife who strengthened his image.
Tonight had proven that Chloe could.
“You made the right decision,” she whispered.
“About what?”
“Leaving her home.”
Julian took a sip of champagne.
“She would have been uncomfortable.”
Chloe smiled.
“That’s a polite way of saying it.”
Across the hall, Apex CEO Robert Mercer appeared near the stage.
Julian immediately straightened.
Mercer approached with two board members.
“Cross.”
“Robert.”
They shook hands.
Mercer nodded toward Chloe.
“Ms.
Miller.”
“Always a pleasure.”
Julian waited for Mercer to mention the partnership.
Instead, the older man checked his watch.
“Nervous?”
Julian asked lightly.
Mercer’s expression was unreadable.
“Our principal guest hasn’t arrived.”
Julian’s pulse quickened.
Arthur Vance.
The name alone could move markets.
Vance Capital had remained privately controlled despite managing billions in assets.
Arthur Vance rarely invested in companies directly anymore, which made his interest in the Apex infrastructure fund extraordinary.
More importantly, Vance had reportedly taken a personal interest in Cross Meridian.
Julian had spent six weeks preparing for tonight.
If he impressed Arthur Vance, everything changed.
“Do you know what time he’s expected?”
Julian asked.
“Soon.”
Mercer gave him a measured look.
“And Julian?”
“Yes?”
“Mr.
Vance values integrity.”
Julian smiled confidently.
“So do I.”
Mercer stared at him for a moment longer than necessary.
Then walked away.
Chloe leaned closer.
“What was that about?”
“Negotiation tactics.”
Julian adjusted his cuff.
“He wants me nervous.”
Chloe smiled.
“Then he doesn’t know you.”
“No,” Julian said.
“He doesn’t.”
Twenty minutes later, conversations near the entrance began to quiet.
Julian turned.
Arthur Vance had arrived.
He immediately recognized him.
Everyone did.
Silver-haired.
Tall.
Dark tuxedo.
Two Apex directors rushed forward.
Robert Mercer followed.
Julian felt adrenaline surge through him.
“This is it,” he whispered.
Chloe slipped her hand through his arm.
“Go get your future.”
Then Arthur Vance stepped aside.
And I entered the room.
Julian stopped breathing.
Chloe’s hand fell from his arm.
For one strange second, no one moved.
My gown was still the same navy dress.
My hair was still pinned the same way.
I had not added diamonds.
I had not transformed into some glamorous stranger.
But I was walking beside Arthur Vance.
And his hand rested protectively over mine.
Julian’s face changed.
Confusion came first.
Then disbelief.
Then something that looked very much like fear.
“Clarissa?” he whispered.
Chloe stared at me.
“What is she doing here?”
I heard her.
So did my father.
His eyes moved toward Julian.
“Which one is he?”
I almost laughed.
He had seen photographs, of course.
But the question was deliberate.
Dismissive.
I nodded toward my husband.
Arthur’s expression hardened.
Robert Mercer approached us.
“Arthur.
Glad you made it.”
“Robert.”
They shook hands.
Mercer turned toward me.
“And this must be—”
“My daughter,” Arthur said.
He didn’t say my name immediately.
He watched Julian while he said it.
“My only daughter.”
A silence opened around us.
Julian went pale.
Chloe’s lips parted.
Robert Mercer looked from me to Julian.
Then back again.
“Your daughter?”
“Clarissa Vance.”
My maiden name landed harder than a slap.
Around us, whispers began.
Vance?
Arthur Vance’s daughter?
Julian finally moved.
He crossed the distance quickly.
“Clarissa.”
I had heard him say my name thousands of times.
Never like that.
Not with panic.
He tried to smile.
“What a surprise.”
My father looked at me.
“A surprise?”
Julian swallowed.
“I mean—Clarissa never told me you were coming.”
“She didn’t know until this evening.”
My father’s voice remained perfectly civil.
That somehow made it worse.
Chloe stepped forward.
Her confidence had disappeared.
“Mr.
Vance, I’m Chloe Miller, vice president of investor relations at Cross Meridian.”
My father looked at her offered hand.
Then at me.
“Chloe Miller?”
I nodded.
Recognition entered his eyes.
He left her hand hanging in the air.
Julian noticed.
“Perhaps we should speak privately.”
“No.”
My answer surprised even me.
Julian stared.
I continued.
“You weren’t concerned about privacy when you told me I would embarrass you.”
His eyes flicked toward nearby guests.
“Clarissa, not here.”
“Why?”
My voice remained quiet.
“You said it in front of the staff.”
Chloe glanced around.
People were openly listening now.
Julian lowered his voice.
“You’re emotional.”
Something inside me became very calm.
That phrase had controlled me for years.
You’re emotional.
You’re overreacting.
You’re too sensitive.
Tonight, it sounded almost childish.
“My daughter seems perfectly composed,” Arthur said.
Julian turned toward him.
“Mr.
Vance, with respect, marriage is complicated.”
“So I understand.”
Arthur’s gaze sharpened.
“My late wife and I were married thirty-four years.”
Julian’s face tightened.
“This is a misunderstanding.”
“No,” I said.
“It isn’t.”
Chloe suddenly spoke.
“Clarissa, perhaps this isn’t the appropriate venue for a domestic scene.”
I looked at her.
“The photograph was appropriate?”
All color drained from Chloe’s face.
“What photograph?”
Julian asked.
I took out my phone.
For the first time, Chloe looked genuinely frightened.
“Clarissa—”
I opened the message.
Julian read the seven words.
Tonight he’ll be completely mine.
Enjoy waiting.
His head snapped toward Chloe.
“What the hell is this?”
She stammered.
“It was a joke.”
“A joke?”
“You were angry with her.
I thought—”
“You thought what?”
“That you wanted—”
She stopped.
Too late.
Julian’s expression changed again.
Because now everyone understood there was more between them than professional loyalty.
He grabbed her elbow.
“We need to talk.”
She pulled away.
“Don’t touch me.”
Arthur watched them with detached interest.
Then Robert Mercer approached.
“Julian.”
Julian released Chloe instantly.
“Robert, I can explain.”
Mercer looked deeply uncomfortable.
“Mr.
Vance and I were scheduled to discuss Cross Meridian tonight.”
“Yes.”
Hope returned to Julian’s face.
“I have the projections ready.”
“There’s been a change.”
Julian froze.
“What change?”
Arthur answered.
“I’m no longer interested in your projections.”
My husband looked at me.
I saw the exact moment he realized his career was standing on the same floor as the wife he had humiliated.
“Clarissa,” he whispered.
Now my name sounded like a request.
Perhaps even a prayer.
I hated how much satisfaction I expected to feel.
Strangely, I felt almost nothing.
Just tired.
Then Julian did something I never expected.
He stepped closer.
“Come home with me.”
I stared at him.
“What?”
“We’ll talk privately.”
His voice softened.
The voice he used in the early years.
The voice that once convinced me I had found safety.
“I made a mistake.”
“A mistake?”
“I was under pressure.”
He glanced toward my father.
“This partnership has consumed me.”
“And Chloe?”
“Nothing happened.”
Chloe laughed bitterly behind him.
Julian turned.
“Be quiet.”
Her eyes widened.
Then narrowed.
“Oh, now I should be quiet?”
“Chloe.”
“You told me your marriage was dead.”
The room seemed to shrink.
Julian’s face became rigid.
“You said you were waiting until the Apex deal closed before divorcing her.”
My chest tightened.
There it was.
Not suspicion.
Not imagination.
Not insecurity.
A plan.
Julian looked at me.
“Clarissa, she’s twisting things.”
Chloe laughed again.
“I have messages.”
Julian went completely still.
She reached into her purse.
“I have eighteen months of messages.”
“Chloe.”
This time, his voice carried a warning.
She ignored it.
“You promised me the penthouse in Chicago.”
“Stop.”
“You told me Clarissa was mentally unstable.”
My father’s head turned slowly toward Julian.
“You told the board that too,” Chloe continued.
Julian’s voice dropped.
“You’re fired.”
Chloe stared at him.
Then smiled.
“No.”
“No?”
“You can’t fire me.”
She pulled out her phone.
“Because if I leave Cross Meridian, this goes to the SEC.”
For the first time that evening, Arthur Vance looked surprised.
So did Robert Mercer.
Julian’s confidence shattered.
“What are you talking about?”
Chloe looked at him with pure contempt.
“You know exactly what I’m talking about.”
Mercer stepped forward.
“Ms.
Miller.”
She raised the phone.
“Cross Meridian’s numbers aren’t real.”
A murmur swept through the guests close enough to hear.
Julian lunged toward her.
“Give me that.”
Security moved instantly.
Two guards stepped between them.
Chloe backed away.
“The acquisition didn’t produce the revenue Julian reported.
He shifted losses into shell consulting agreements and used projected Apex funding to cover liabilities that already exist.”
Mercer’s face became stone.
Arthur’s expression was unreadable.
I stared at my husband.
“Is that true?”
“No.”
The answer came too fast.
“Clarissa, she’s angry.”
Chloe unlocked her phone.
“I have spreadsheets.”
“She stole confidential documents.”
“I prepared half of them.”
“You manipulated the data.”
“You approved it.”
Their voices overlapped.
People began stepping away from Julian as though scandal might be contagious.
Then my father touched my elbow.
“Clarissa.”
I looked at him.
He was no longer watching Julian.
He was watching his own phone.
Something had changed in his face.
“What is it?”
My father didn’t answer immediately.
He showed the screen to Robert Mercer.
Mercer read it.
His expression turned grim.
“What?”
I asked.
Arthur looked at me.
“We need to leave.”
Julian heard him.
Fear flashed across his face.
“No.”
Everyone turned.
Julian stepped around the security guard.
“Mr.
Vance, wait.”
Arthur ignored him.
“Clarissa.”
“Dad, what happened?”
Before he could answer, another man entered the hall.
He was in his early fifties, wearing a dark suit without a tie.
Two people followed him.
Not guests.
Investigators.
I knew it before anyone said a word.
The man approached Robert Mercer and quietly displayed identification.
Then he turned.
“Julian Cross?”
The entire gala seemed to stop.
Julian did not respond.
“Mr.
Cross?”
Julian’s face had become almost gray.
“Yes.”
“I need to speak with you concerning financial records associated with Cross Meridian Holdings.”
Chloe took another step backward.
Julian pointed at her.
“She did this.”
The investigator looked toward Chloe.
“We’ll need to speak with Ms.
Miller as well.”
Her victorious expression disappeared.
Arthur took my arm.
“Come.”
This time I followed him.
We reached the outer corridor before I pulled away.
“Dad.”
He stopped.
“You knew.”
His expression tightened.
“Knew what?”
“That something was wrong with Julian’s company.”
“I suspected.”
“How long?”
“Several weeks.”
Anger stirred beneath my exhaustion.
“And you never contacted me?”
“You made it clear you didn’t want contact.”
“I was your daughter.”
“Yes.”
Pain appeared in his face.
“And every day for three years, I had to decide whether respecting your choice was love or cowardice.”
That silenced me.
Then he looked back toward the ballroom.
“But that isn’t what worries me.”
“What does?”
He handed me his phone.
An email filled the screen.
No sender name.
Only an encrypted address.
The subject line read:
ASK CLARISSA ABOUT PROJECT HALCYON.
I frowned.
“What is Project Halcyon?”
My father studied me.
“I was hoping you could tell me.”
“I’ve never heard of it.”
“That message arrived nine minutes ago.”
“So?”
“So it included an attachment.”
He opened it.
My breath stopped.
It was a legal document.
A signature page.
My signature was at the bottom.
Except I had never signed it.
Above my name appeared a title I had never seen before.
AUTHORIZED BENEFICIAL OWNER.
Beneath it:
HALCYON DEVELOPMENT PARTNERS LLC.
I stared at the page.
“This is fake.”
Arthur’s jaw tightened.
“I believe you.”
“I’ve never seen this company.”
“I believe you.”
“Then why is my name there?”
“That,” my father said quietly, “is what we need to discover.”
Footsteps sounded behind us.
Julian.
He had somehow slipped away from the investigators for a moment.
“Clarissa!”
Security followed several yards behind.
Julian looked desperate.
Not arrogant.
Not polished.
Desperate.
He saw the phone in my hand.
Then the document.
And stopped.
That was all I needed.
I stared at him.
“You know what this is.”
“No.”
“Julian.”
“I don’t.”
For years, I had doubted my instincts.
Not anymore.
“You recognized it.”
His gaze shifted toward my father.
Arthur stepped forward.
“What did you do?”
Julian’s eyes darted toward the ballroom.
Then back to me.
“You don’t understand.”
“Then explain it.”
He lowered his voice.
“Clarissa, I was trying to protect us.”
I almost laughed.
“By forging my signature?”
His face changed.
That was confirmation enough.
My father moved toward him.
I caught Arthur’s arm.
“No.”
He stopped.
I looked directly at Julian.
“What is Halcyon?”
Julian said nothing.
Security approached.
The investigator appeared behind them.
“Mr.
Cross.”
Julian looked trapped.
Then something unexpected happened.
He smiled.
Not happily.
Not confidently.
It was the smile of a man who had just realized everyone else knew less than he did.
“You think tonight is about me cheating?”
He looked at my father.
“You think this is about falsified revenue?”
“Julian,” I said, “what is Halcyon?”
His eyes returned to mine.
“You really don’t know.”
A cold sensation moved through me.
“Know what?”
He laughed once under his breath.
Then shook his head.
“Your father never told you.”
Arthur’s grip tightened beside me.
“Told me what?”
Julian stared at him.
“Go ahead, Arthur.”
My father said nothing.
For the first time that night, I saw fear in his face.
Not concern.
Fear.
I stepped away from him.
“Dad?”
Julian’s smile widened.
“Ask him why Halcyon Development existed before I ever met you.”
My breathing stopped.
I turned toward my father.
Arthur looked ten years older.
“That isn’t the whole story.”
My voice came out barely above a whisper.
“But it’s true?”
He didn’t answer.
Julian did.
“Oh, it’s true.”
The investigator grabbed his arm.
“Mr.
Cross, you need to come with us.”
Julian barely seemed to notice.
He kept looking at me.
“Ask your father who really owns the land.”
“What land?”
“The Cleveland waterfront project.”
I frowned.
My father closed his eyes.
Julian laughed softly.
Then delivered the words that changed everything.
“Your mother.”
Silence.
My mother had been dead for eleven years.
Julian was escorted away before I could ask another question.
I turned to my father.
“Tell me he’s lying.”
Arthur stared at the floor.
“Dad.”
He finally looked at me.
And in his eyes, I saw something I had never seen before.
Shame.
“Clarissa,” he whispered, “your mother didn’t die owning nothing.”
I felt the world tilt.
“What are you saying?”
“There are things about our family I should have told you years ago.”
“What things?”
Before he could answer, my phone vibrated.
Unknown number.
A photograph appeared.
I opened it.
My blood turned cold.
It showed my mother.
Alive.
The image was grainy, captured by what looked like a security camera.
A date was stamped in the corner.
Three months ago.
Beneath the photograph was a single message.
YOUR FATHER HAS LIED TO YOU LONGER THAN YOUR HUSBAND HAS.
Then another message appeared.
And this one contained an address.
I looked at Arthur.
He had seen the photograph over my shoulder.
All the color disappeared from his face.
“Clarissa,” he said, reaching for the phone.
“Do not go there.”
I stepped away from him.
“Why?”
His voice broke.
“Because if that photograph is real, then everything I did eleven years ago has failed.”
I stared at my father.
Behind us, investigators were leading my husband through a ballroom filled with cameras.
Chloe was crying.
Apex executives were calling attorneys.
Cross Meridian was collapsing.
An hour earlier, I had believed discovering my husband’s betrayal would be the worst truth of my life.
I had been wrong.
Because Julian had lied about our marriage.
But my father had lied about my mother’s death.
And somewhere in Cleveland, someone wanted me to discover why.
…If you want to know what happened next, please type “YES” and like for more.
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Source: Stories of Destiny · Thao Thao
