The mansion was eerily quiet, the walls lined with portraits of a past that no longer held any warmth. Sarah stood in the grand foyer, her back straight, eyes cold, and her expression unwavering. The weight of her great-grandfather's death still clung to her, but it was masked by the resolve in her heart. She had buried her grief deep down, not allowing herself the luxury of sorrow. Not yet. There was still too much to be done.
Her father, **Wyatt Felix Lim**, paced back and forth, his face a twisted mask of anxiety and guilt. The blood had yet to dry on his hands, both literal and metaphorical. Sarah's eyes followed him, studying every movement. Wyatt was a weak man, someone who had never known the strength of honor or loyalty. His betrayal had cost them both dearly.
"Sarah," Wyatt said in a strained voice, his eyes flicking to her as if he were trying to assess her emotions. "We need to talk. This… this has gone too far."
Sarah didn't respond immediately. She remained still, her arms crossed, her eyes narrowing at her father's pathetic excuse for a conversation. He had abandoned them in the auction hall, leaving her and Auto Dane to face the chaos alone. She had been prepared for that cowardice, but now, standing before him, she felt nothing but contempt.
"You… you could have stopped it," Wyatt continued, his voice growing more desperate. "You could've done something to save him, Sarah. We… we need to think about the future now. The Cojuangco Mafia… it's falling apart."
Sarah's gaze hardened. She had no interest in his words, no interest in his feeble attempts to justify his cowardice. The Cojuangco Mafia was hers now, whether he liked it or not. The thought of Wyatt trying to regain control made her stomach churn.
"You killed him," she said coldly, her voice slicing through the air like a blade. "You killed Auto Dane. Not with your hands, but with your actions. Your cowardice led to this. And I won't forget that."
Wyatt flinched, as if the words had physically struck him. His eyes flashed with anger, but there was something deeper in his gaze—a flicker of fear. He had always been afraid of Sarah, always knowing deep down that she was the real heir to the empire, not him. She was the one who had inherited the strength, the ruthlessness, the intelligence. And that frightened him.
"You have no right to speak to me like that," Wyatt spat, his voice rising. "I'm your father! I built this empire! You think you can just take everything I've worked for?"
The anger in his voice only fueled Sarah's calm composure. Her eyes locked onto his, a storm brewing in their depths. She wasn't just his daughter; she was the force that would destroy him if he dared cross her.
"You've worked for nothing," she replied, her voice low but fierce. "Everything you have is built on the lies and sacrifices of others. You're nothing but a pawn in a game you don't even understand, Wyatt. I'm the one who's going to take everything. And when I do, you'll be left with nothing."
Wyatt's face contorted in rage. He took a step toward her, his hand rising as if to strike. His hand connected with her cheek, the slap ringing through the air. But before he could withdraw, Sarah's eyes locked onto his with an intensity that could freeze blood.
In one swift motion, Sarah grabbed her father's wrist, her grip like iron. The shock in Wyatt's eyes was palpable, but Sarah didn't release him. She held his wrist firmly, her fingers digging into his skin as she leaned in closer, her face inches from his. Her lips curled into a wicked smile, one that didn't belong to a daughter but to a force of nature.
"You really think you can slap me?" Sarah whispered, her voice smooth, her tone laced with a dangerous edge. "I'm the one who decides who lives and who dies, Wyatt. I'm the one who owns your soul. And if you ever lay a hand on me again, you'll regret it."
Her smile didn't falter, but her eyes—their cold, calculating stare—spoke volumes. Wyatt's body went rigid as he realized the full extent of his daughter's power. The fear in his eyes was impossible to mask.
"Let go of me," Wyatt hissed, his voice trembling with anger and fear.
But Sarah didn't. She held his wrist for a moment longer, savoring the moment. Finally, with one last glance into his eyes, she released him. Her smile faded, and she straightened up, her expression returning to its usual calm.
"I won't allow anyone who betrayed Auto Dane to attend his funeral," Sarah said, her voice quiet but deadly. "And that includes you."
Wyatt stared at her, his lips parted in disbelief. He could hardly believe what he was hearing. The audacity, the coldness in her words—it was like facing a different person altogether. But he knew, deep down, that Sarah was not someone to be trifled with. Her resolve was unmatched, her strength unstoppable.
"You think you can just exclude me?" Wyatt said, his voice trembling with indignation. "I'm still your father! You need me, Sarah!"
Sarah's gaze softened, but only slightly. She stepped back, giving him space, but her eyes remained unwavering. "You're nothing, Wyatt. You've always been nothing. And you're too weak to even see it."
A soft chuckle interrupted the tension in the room. Sarah's head snapped toward the doorway, where **Kristine Madielle Lorre**, Wyatt's mistress, stood. She was elegantly dressed, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders like a silk curtain. She wore a knowing smile, one that reeked of arrogance and entitlement.
"Oh, how cute," Kristine purred, her voice dripping with condescension. "The little princess thinks she can control everything. How quaint."
Sarah's eyes narrowed, her patience thinning. Kristine had always rubbed her the wrong way, but now, with her appearing at such a critical moment, Sarah felt a surge of rage.
"You think you're safe because you've ingratiated yourself with my father?" Sarah's voice was low, filled with venom. "You're nothing more than a pawn, Kristine. A distraction. A foolish woman who thinks she can replace my mother."
Kristine scoffed, stepping into the room with an air of superiority. She was used to being the center of attention, and Sarah could see that she had already assumed her place in Wyatt's life. But it wouldn't last long—not if Sarah had anything to say about it.
"I'll tell you what, Sarah," Kristine said, her voice smooth and mocking. "Why don't you take your little tantrum somewhere else? I'm sure we'll have plenty of time to discuss your little inheritance after your father and I get married."
Sarah's eyes flashed with fury, and for a moment, she considered teaching Kristine a lesson she'd never forget. But she held herself back. She would not waste her energy on someone as insignificant as Kristine.
Instead, she turned her gaze back to Wyatt. "You'll have no place at Auto Dane's funeral," she repeated, her voice icy. "And you'll learn, Wyatt, that betrayal comes at a cost."
Kristine took a step forward, raising an eyebrow. "You can't do this, Sarah," she said, her voice dripping with mockery. "You think you can control everything, but you're just a spoiled little girl who's trying to play in the big leagues. You'll learn your place soon enough."
Sarah's eyes were hard as steel, her jaw clenched. "I've learned my place a long time ago, Kristine. And I'll make sure you learn yours."
With that, Sarah turned and walked toward the door, her steps measured and deliberate. As she left, the sound of Wyatt and Kristine's argument faded into the background, but Sarah knew this was far from over.