Chapter 2
"Are you entirely certain about giving up this job, Miss Alston?"
Gideon Ford, Callan’s executive assistant, held the legal papers.
I sat perfectly straight in the penthouse office of the Mercer Group, wearing an old trench coat I hadn't pulled out since my college days.
The soft, accommodating housewife Callan had spent years dismissing was completely gone.
"Yes," I said, my voice steady and quiet. "I've already earned more than enough."
"But Mr. Mercer..." Gideon swallowed, looking down at my resignation letter.
"Process the papers immediately, Gideon," I said with a faint smile.
My phone blew up before I walked out of the corporate tower.
Callan’s name flashed across the screen.
"Seren, what the hell is this?" Callan’s voice came through the speaker, laced with his usual irritation.
"The text wasn't cryptic, Callan," I said, my voice calm. "It was notice. I'm leaving."
A chuckle cut through the line.
"Look, if this is another tantrum about Lila spending time with Rosalie, we don't have time for it. I need you back at the office by noon to log the Eastern branch receipts."
"I will not work for you anymore," I said quietly.
"Seren—"
Then the line went dead.
As I slipped into my car, my phone buzzed with a notification from my home security.
I opened the live video feed, and my heart dropped.
A white moving truck was parked in my driveway.
Through the living room camera, I watched Rosalie Bennett point a manicured finger at the central wall.
A burly contractor stepped up and ruthlessly scraped down the "Growth Wall".
The chart where I had measured Lila’s growth every single month since she was a toddler.
Next, Rosalie picked up a framed canvas from the side table that read 'I love you, Mommy'.
Without a shred of hesitation, Rosalie tossed it directly into a giant black garbage bag.
“Clear it all out,” Rosalie’s voice carried clearly through the mic.
“Lila needs a clean study space. Not this cluttered suburban junk.”
I closed the phone. My jaw clenched with fury.
Ten minutes later, I stood outside the black iron fence of the school playground.
Recess was in full swing. Through the metal bars, I spotted Lila.
She was sitting on a bench under a large oak tree, swinging her legs.
Lila was laughing, her small face lit up with a pure, easy joy I hadn't seen in months.
"Lila," I called out quietly, stepping closer to the fence.
My daughter blinked, turning her head.
The laughter immediately vanished from her face when she saw me standing there.
She walked over slowly, stopping two feet from the iron bars.
"Mom? What are you doing here? Orientation is over. Daddy said you went home."
"I wanted to see you," I said, my throat tight as I reached through the bars, my fingers stopping just short of touching her shoulder.
"Lila... mommy will buy a beautiful house. It has big windows and plenty of room for your toys. Come with me. Let's go home together."
Lila stepped back, pulling out of my reach.
"I don't want a new house," she said, her voice cutting through me like glass.
"Aunt Rosalie is redoing my room at Daddy's house. She's getting me a new bed and a desk. I want to stay with her and Daddy."
"Lila, please—"
"Go away, Mom," Lila snapped, crossing her little arms. "You're embarrassing me in front of my friends."
She turned on her heel and ran straight back to the bench.
The grief hit me so hard my knees went weak against the pavement.
I didn't let them see me cry. I turned around, walked back to my car, and pulled the door shut.
For sixty seconds, the quiet vehicle felt like a pressure cooker.
I let myself shake in the dark for exactly one minute.
Then I wiped my face with the back of my hand, started the engine, and drove straight into the commercial district of Belridge.
I took the private elevator to the top-floor finance office.
"Can I help you, ma'am?" the audit manager asked, checking his computer.
"I'm here to reactivate an account," I said, placing an old, encrypted company keycard onto the desk.
"Name?"
"Seren Alston."
"...Wait."
He looked at me again.
"You're Seren Alston? The genius developer?"
The manager stopped typing. His face went entirely pale.
"OMG. The entire board thought you had left the industry permanently!"
"Now listen to me," I said simply, my voice calm.
"Transfer six million to a fund under my name and issue a check for the rest. I have something I need to do."