Chapter 2

I rented a cheap apartment a few days ago.

There wasn't much for me to unpack, so after a quick cleaning session, I was ready to move right in.

My phone rang when I was lying in bed. I glanced at the screen—it was a call from my dad.

After a long moment of hesitation, I finally tapped the answer button.

His furious voice boomed from the other end of the line. "Claire, have you lost your mind? How dare you ask for a divorce? Come home right now!"

I didn't want to go home.

My dad hooked up with Emily Parker, our neighbor, while my mom was hospitalized, so that house belonged to them.

I didn't have a home anymore.

But my mom's urn was still there, and I couldn't just leave it behind. If I were leaving, she'd have to come with me.

As soon as I stepped through the front door, a slap landed hard across my face.

After my mom died, my dad kept her death a secret just so he could keep getting money from Foster Holdings. Since I'd filed for divorce, that cash flow dried up for good.

My dad was so pissed that he'd been pounding drinks all day. Even though he couldn't even stand up straight, he still gave a powerful slap.

Caught off guard, I stumbled and fell to the floor.

Emily stepped forward to help me up, but my dad barked at her, "Don't you dare help her!

"She's asking for a divorce because her mom died, and she's trying to cut me off. How am I supposed to continue gambling without that money? She's trying to ruin me. What a heartless ingrate!"

Emily couldn't help but chime in, "Claire, you really crossed a line here. Mr. Foster's a CEO. Most people would beg for a chance to marry someone like him.

"Sure, maybe you're having a tough time, but the money is real, and so is your status as his wife."

I propped myself up, enduring the sting on my cheek. "Save your breath. I've made up my mind, and nothing you say will change it.

"I'm just here to grab my stuff, and I won't ever step foot in this place again after today. Don't bother inviting me when you two ever decide to tie the knot."

With that, I headed straight to my room.

My dad was fuming. "You ungrateful wretch, do you think you have the right to take anything from this house? Unless you're here for your mom?"

The urn that used to sit on my nightstand was gone. My heart dropped in panic, and when I turned around, sure enough, my dad was holding my mom's urn.

My face went cold, and I strode over. "Give it to me. This is my mom's; you have no right to even touch—"

A bang sounded suddenly. The next thing I knew, the urn was smashed onto the floor. Ashes spilled out and scattered everywhere like dust.

My dad snarled, "I have no right? How dare you say that to me?"

I felt something snap inside my mind. Like I'd lost my mind, I charged at him and gave him a hard shove.

"She was your wife, your partner for many years! Are you even human?" I yelled.

My words sent him into a rage. He grabbed a nearby beer bottle and struck my head with it.

After a loud crash, blood gushed down my forehead, soaking my white shirt in red.

Emily screamed, "Frank, stop! You're going to kill her!"

With blood pouring down my face, I looked up to see my dad, who was as flustered as Emily.

He stared at me for several seconds, but there wasn't a shred of pity or guilt in his eyes—if anything, there was something twisted, almost delighted, about his expression.

Then, he pulled out his phone and started taking close-up photos of my bloodied face before quickly dialing a number.

Once the call connected, my dad instantly turned on his most sycophantic voice. "Mr. Foster, I heard my daughter pissed you off again? Don't worry; I've already taught her a lesson! Just check out these pictures.

"I didn't hold back at all. You're a generous man, Mr. Foster, so please, just forgive her this time.

"After all, you two have been together since college, and you've been married for ten years now. You two can't just get a divorce out of nowhere.

"Besides, it was my mistake back then for forcing her to break up with you. But you know, when that car accident happened, it was my daughter who—"

Edward's icy voice came through from the other end of the line. "What has my car accident got to do with her? Did she ever do anything to help?"

My dad was stunned for a moment, but soon replied, "Mr. Foster, you're indeed blessed with great fortune to have survived the accident, but back then, she did—"

Edward sounded like he was losing patience. "You want money, don't you?"

My dad's eyes lit up. "Yes, yes! We can't stop the payments for the hospital bills."

No sooner had he finished his last sentence than a gentle, feminine voice sounded on the other end of the line. "Edward, Claire's the one throwing a tantrum. There's no reason to drag Mrs. Jensen into this mess, right?"

"You're always too soft." Edward snickered and continued, "If you want me to keep paying for the bills, have Claire crawl back to me and beg for my forgiveness."

He ended the call abruptly, causing my dad to glare at his phone, cursing furiously. "I beat you up so badly, and he couldn't care less? You saved him when he had that car accident, and it was all for nothing!

"I don't care how you do it—just get me some money! I'm drowning in debt, and I need cash to win it all back. If you don't bring me the money, I swear I'll kill you!"

My expression was blank.

I bent down and scraped up the ashes from the floor, doing my best to gather what was left and put them back in the urn.

After that, I clutched the urn tight to my chest and left in silence.