Chapter 7 - A New DawnSpencer staggered into the room, ignoring Raymond entirely, falling to his knees in front of Phoebe with a pathetic, broken desperation that was almost unrecognizable.
"Phoebe... please," Spencer sobbed, reaching out to grab the hem of her robe. "You have to call your father off. They've frozen everything. They're seizing the house, the cars, the bank accounts... I have nothing left. I'm ruined!"
Phoebe looked down at the man who had spent three years treating her like a stain on his floor. There was no anger left in her heart—only a profound, liberating pity.
"You didn't care about me when I had nothing, Spencer," Phoebe said, her voice steady, quiet, and completely devoid of emotion. "You only cared about what I could hide to make you look grander to the world."
"I was a fool!" Spencer cried, his voice echoing off the bedroom walls. "I was blind! I love you, Phoebe—please, give me another chance. We can start over. Just tell him to stop!"
Raymond stepped forward, his massive frame blocking Spencer’s path, his voice a low, terrifying growl. "Get out of my daughter's house."
"This is my house!" Spencer screamed hysterically.
"It was," Raymond corrected coldly. "Until the deed was transferred to Harrell Holdings fifteen minutes ago. Security is waiting downstairs to escort you off the premises."
Two burly security guards appeared in the doorway, lifting Spencer effortlessly by his arms as he thrashed and pleaded. As they dragged him down the hallway, his desperate cries faded into the distance until the heavy front door slammed shut, silencing him forever.
The mansion grew completely still.
Phoebe walked back to the window, opening the glass pane to let the crisp, clean night air wash over her face. Down on Euclid Avenue, the city lights flickered across the skyline, stretching out endlessly into the dark horizon.
She wasn't small anymore. She didn't need to hide in a worn-out navy dress or wait quietly in the shadows for someone to validate her existence.
Raymond walked up beside her, placing a warm hand on her shoulder. "Ready to come home, my girl?"
May you like
Phoebe turned toward him, a bright, genuine smile touching her lips for the first time in years.
"Yes, Dad," she said softly. "Let's go home."
