Chapter 5
His shoes clicked against the marble floor, step by step, and the whole hall fell silent.
Serena froze in place.
Edward stopped right in front of me.
Then he reached out and gently brushed the wine stain on my shoulder that hadn't dried yet.
He spoke, "Sweetheart, who bullied you?"
It wasn't a question, more like a statement.
He turned to face the guests, and Serena, who looked pale as she stood in the hallway.
He sad, "My granddaughter got treated badly here, and nobody thought to let me know?"
The word granddaughter hit the room like a bomb dropped into still water.
Celine's knees went weak, and she grabbed the wall for support.
Serena tried to speak, but no words came out.
Adrian rose to his feet in the hall behind.
He looked over, his face showing a shock I'd never seen before.
Standing next to Edward, for the first time in eight years, I felt like I could finally hold my head high and not shrink away.
"Grandpa," I said, my voice steady, "no one bullied me. I chose to leave."
He looked at me and let out a sigh.
"You can leave, but not like this," he said.
He waved his hand, and someone immediately stepped forward to hand him a document.
"This is the transfer agreement for seventeen percent of Holt Group's shares," Edward announced to everyone. "Your mother left it for you. I've kept it safe for you all this time, and now it's yours again."
Seventeen percent was no small amount. Holt Group was the company Adrian ran.
Serena looked like she'd seen a ghost.
People at the back tables were already standing up, craning their necks to see what was happening.
"No way this can't be happening," Celine's voice shook as she stammered.
Nathan had somehow made his way to the hallway entrance, hands in his pockets, looking like he'd seen this coming all along.
He nodded at me.
I took the document but didn't open it.
"Grandpa, this isn't the place to talk about this," I said.
"I don't care where we are," Edward replied, his voice quiet but carrying through the whole room. "You've been wronged for eight years, and I never said a word. But today, I saw someone throw wine on you. I can't keep quiet about it anymore."
Edward's eyes landed on Serena.
He didn't say a word.
But that look spoke louder than anything he could've said.
Serena took a step back.
"Mr. Symons, I really didn't mean it, my hand just slipped—"
"And you are?" he asked like she was completely irrelevant.
"S-Serena Lewis," Serena stammered.
"From the Lewis family?" Edward asked.
"Yes," Serena replied.
Edward just nodded.
Then he turned away, not even bothering to look at her again.
"Come on, sweetheart. Grandpa's taking you home."
I glanced at the hall at the end of the corridor.
The lights were bright, and shadows flickered as people moved about.
Adrian was standing there, his expression grim.
I looked away.
"Okay," I said.
For eight years, finally, I was no longer the person who had to rely on someone else's light to stand here.
As I turned to leave, I heard Serena's voice behind me, sharp and urgent. "Adrian, get over here..."
I didn't look back.
Edward kept his hand on my shoulder, guiding me out the door, step by step.
The night breeze swept over us.
Outside, it wasn't just one car; three sleek black SUVs were parked in a row, with several men in dark suits standing by.
When they saw me step out, they all gave a respectful nod.
"Ms. Symons."
Celine hurried out after us.
She stood on the steps, her expression shifting.
"E-Evelyn, why didn't you say something sooner..." Celine said.
Without looking at her, I got in the car.
The door closed behind me.
The car slowly pulled away.
Through the rearview mirror, I watched the lights of the club fade into the distance.
It'd been eight years. It was finally over.
The next morning, my phone was blowing up with thirty-seven unread messages.
Celine had sent me eleven messages.
[Evelyn, are you alright?]
[Wait, was that really Mr. Edward Symons last night?]
[Why didn't you ever tell us about this?]
[Evelyn, please text me back, okay?]
I didn't reply to any of them.
Adrian called twice, but I let both calls go unanswered.
My resignation letter was still lying on his desk.
No matter what happened last night, my decision to leave hadn't changed.
At nine, I showed up at the Symons family estate.
This was only my third time here.
The first time was five years ago, when a lawyer tracked me down and told me my family background was way more complicated than I'd ever imagined. The second time was last year, when Edward invited me over for dinner.
And now, this was my third visit.
In the living room, Edward was sitting in the main seat, with a cup of coffee in front of him.
"Sit," he said.