As I step into the living room, the air is thick with a tension that feels almost suffocating.
My father on the main seat, flanked by his mistress—now my stepmother at one side, and my stepsister—Cathy at another, all turn to face me, their expressions a mix of contempt and something darker.
I can sense their unease, but it doesn't touch me. I am not the Samantha Smith they think; I am a bonafide Angel, and I have returned to reclaim what is rightfully Samantha's.
My father clears his throat, the sound echoing in the silence like a warning. "You never think of us as your parents," he says, his voice strained. "After so many years, you come home without a word! If Xavier hadn't told us this morning, we would still be in the dark."
I feel a flicker of amusement at his indignation. "I just wanted to surprise you. Or are you not happy about my arrival?" I ask, my tone light but laced with an edge that only I can feel.
"How could that be?" he replies, forcing a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. "My eldest daughter has completed her MBA with the highest possible score—what an amazing achievement! Now everyone will think more highly of us."
His pride feels hollow, a desperate attempt to reclaim some semblance of family honor.
Cathy snorts, her disdain palpable. "Her only merit is studying. With her ugly face, she'll never be able to marry a good husband. Look at me; I'm already engaged to the eldest son of the Jones family.
The Smiths and Jones will collaborate on a huge project. My merit is much greater than hers."
Her words are sharp, but they bounce off me like water off a duck's back. I have no attachment to this family, no desire for their approval.
My stepmother chimes in, her voice dripping with condescension. "Ah, Cathy, you should respect your big sister. When you inherit your father's position with Eric, you need her brilliant mind for our company.
You should maintain a good relationship. She has avoided us all these years. Surely, she has no interest in our company. Am I right, Samantha?"
Their fear of me has faded, and I can see it in their eyes. They think they can manipulate me now that I've returned, but they have no idea who I truly am.
I take a deep breath, feeling the power of my true self surge within me.
"I'm going to the office starting tomorrow," I declare, my voice steady and unwavering.
"Who becomes father's successor should be decided by merit in the workplace, not by marriage. Am I right, Father?"
I lock eyes with him, my gaze sharp and unyielding, with a threatening edge.
"Haha, absolutely. But you should also decide who you will marry; it isn't a trivial thing," he replies, but I can see the unease creeping back into his expression.
"Marriage is secondary to me. At least I won't marry for business purposes."
My words hang in the air, a challenge that reverberates through the room.
My father's expression shifts, a flicker of concern crossing his face. My stepmother laughs mockingly, and Cathy glares at me with venomous intent.
They all know Eric Jones is a playboy with a reputation for cruelty, and yet Cathy is willing to sacrifice her happiness for a chance at power. How naive she is.
I know my father has never wanted me to succeed him. He has never seen me as his child, only as a pawn in his game.
I clearly remember the day they plotted against Samantha, the day they wanted to erase her from their lives.
Now, Cathy, your younger daughter, no sorry, your only daughter, wants to take my place? In her dreams!
If she dares to threaten me or harm me, she will find out that I am not any ordinary girl, how badly I once traumatized her parents. I won't spare her too.
I will not be a victim in this twisted inheritance war. I am here to reclaim what is rightfully Samantha's, and I will not be stopped.
Just wait and watch.
I return to my room, and it feels just as I left it—immaculate and untouched, without a speck of dust.
I know it's Xavier who keeps everything in order. He always takes care of me and my belongings meticulously, ensuring that everything is perfect.
I call him to come into my room, and he arrives shortly after, his usual calm demeanor in place.
"I'm planning to join our company. I'll be going to the office tomorrow morning. Please arrange my dress, car, and lunch properly from tomorrow onwards," I instruct him, my voice steady and clear.
"Okay, miss. Do you have any other instructions?" he replies, his tone respectful and attentive.
"Not for now. You can go," I say, dismissing him with a wave of my hand.
As he leaves, I can't help but wonder about all those years when I wasn't here. What did he do every day? Did he feel lonely without me? Did he miss my presence?
Who knows? The thought lingers in my mind, a bittersweet ache that I can't quite shake off.
The next morning, I am on my way to the office, and Xavier is driving. The familiar streets pass by, but my mind is elsewhere.
Suddenly, my phone rings, breaking the silence. It's Rachel, my best friend from university.
"Samantha, I finish my work at home. I can come to your city tomorrow. Will you pick me up?" she asks, her voice bright and cheerful.
"Of course, darling. Just tell me your landing time later," I respond, a smile creeping onto my face.
The car shakes slightly as I speak, and I wonder if Xavier notices that I call someone darling.
"'Kay. I love you, dear. Bye," Rachel says before hanging up.
Rachel and I share the same major at university. Her family isn't well off, and she is there on a full scholarship.
She is not only a brilliant student but also a wonderful friend.
When she learned about my circumstances, she volunteered to be my assistant in the future.
What I lack the most is trusted people in my life, so I gladly accepted her offer.
She went back to her hometown to finish her mandatory work and bid her family farewell. Now it seems everything is in place; she will come tomorrow.
Suddenly, Xavier breaks the silence, asking, "Who's coming?"
"My soulmate," I reply, a hint of mischief in my voice.
To my surprise, our car speeds up sharply in response to my words.
I scold him, "What are you doing?"
"Sorry, miss," he says, his voice steady but slightly apologetic.
He is apologizing, but I can't help but feel a wave of sadness wash over me.
I had purposefully answered him in a teasing manner to gauge his reaction, but now my heart feels heavy.
Why does it hurt? Snap out of it, Merry…
I take a deep breath and say in a stern tone, "Be careful when driving."
The air in the car feels thick and tense, as if the weight of unspoken words hangs between us.
After a while, we arrive at my father's company, the familiar building looming ahead.
I take a moment to gather my thoughts before stepping out, ready to face the day ahead….