Warmth and Chains

Sylvia inhaled deeply, trying to catch her breath. She smiled and playfully remarked, "You know, I'm too old to chase you around!" Then, she affectionately touched her daughter's shoulder.

Her chest still ached from rushing after Reane, but that wasn't what concerned her most.

Her daughter stood frozen, her pale frame tense, eyes rimmed red—whether from exhaustion or tears, Sylvia wasn't sure. But she had seen how Reane reacted back in the office, how she stiffened at the mention of Henricho Strathmore.

A part of her knew that she should have stepped in, should have said something. But when she was with her husband, business was business. Unless she had a solid reason to intervene, she had to keep her place.

Even so, Sylvia softened her expression, showed her daughter a gentle smile, and said,

"Ren, talk to me. I'm here. Whatever it is, you can tell me".

Reane dropped her gaze and faced her mother, pressing her lips together, reluctant to discuss or even think about it. However, she also thought about her mother, who had followed her all this way. The concern in Sylvia's voice made it impossible for her to ignore the situation.

The soft chime of the elevator doors opening filled the silence. Sylvia waited, eyes searching her daughter's face.

Finally, Reane exhaled. Defeated.

"Dad's already decided, and we both know he won't back down. So, even if I tell you about something, it won't change anything." Reane said in a low voice, almost whispering.

Sylvia let out a slow sigh. She knew that Rodney would never do anything to harm their daughter, so she supported his decision, even in the face of her daughter's resistance. However, this did not mean she wouldn't fight for Reane's happiness.

"Ren, your father only wants what's best for you. You know that, right? He'd do anything for you." Sylvia tried to remind her daughter, but her gentle voice had a hint of hesitation—like she was trying to reassure not just her daughter but herself, too.

Reane shifted her gaze to the elevator panel and pressed the button to keep the doors open, stalling for time without responding to her mother. But Sylvia didn't need words. She saw the sadness in her daughter's eyes and the weight Reane was carrying which looked heavier than words could express.

"However, it's different if they harm you, I don't know what I'll do to them personally. Tell me the truth, Ren. What really happened?" The older woman's warm tone shifted; her voice cooled and sharpened into something more firm.

Reane swallowed hard. A mother's intuition was never wrong; she could see Sylvia piecing things together. But how could she admit it? How could she burden her with the ugly truth?

"It's okay, mom. I appreciate your concern, but I'll be okay." The strawberry-blonde woman assured her mother that besides being unsure if she'd be okay, she didn't want Sylvia to dwell on it anymore. 

Sylvia carefully studied her daughter's face, searching for cracks in her words. Then, she reached for Reane's hands, her warmth making Reane uneasy.

"I know something's wrong," she insisted. "You have to tell me so I can help."

Reane hesitated before squeezing her mother's hands gently.

"I will, Mom. Just… not right now..." her tongue-tied as she wants to continue and say, 'Don't worry,' but she knows Sylvia will never stop worrying.

The older woman had always been there for her, always looking at her with those wise, understanding eyes filled with love.

Reane may not have been born from her, but Sylvia was her mother in every way that mattered. And right now, that meant more than anything.

"Okay… Let me call Marco to drive you." Sylvia reached into her bag for her phone, but Reane gently stopped her, placing a hand over hers before pulling her into a brief but tight hug. When she pulled away, she murmured,

"I'll be okay, Mom, I'll just grab a cab or book a car from here."

Reane's expression softened, though the sadness in her eyes lingered.

Sylvia studied her for a long moment. She wanted to say more but chose to leave it at that, giving a slight nod.

"Alright. Just make sure to be home before dinner."

Reane didn't answer but managed a faint smile before stepping into the elevator. She felt at ease, knowing her mother would always support her.

The warmth of Sylvia's presence made her feel safe—made her forget the weight pressing down on her.

Just before the doors could seal completely, a hand slipped between them, forcing them open again. Gilliard stepped inside, his expression unreadable. He gave a polite bow to Sylvia before turning his attention to Reane.

The Castellijo heir barely reacted, leaning against the elevator wall with a quiet sigh.

"I don't need a chaperone, Gil."

Gilliard didn't respond and simply pressed the button going to basement one, where the service cars were located. Reane forgot to press the button for the ground floor, and Gilliard stood in front of the elevator control panel like a barrier.

"Excuse me, can you press the ground button?" Reane requested, leaning against the elevator wall, trying to steal a moment of rest.

Gilliard didn't move but stated, "You know that I can't do that. " His tone was calm and firm; his gaze was steady.

"I need to make sure you'll be exactly where you said you'd be—chairman's order. So, we'll be heading to the basement—where the car service is already waiting." He adjusted his cufflinks, his posture unwavering.

Reane scoffed at her polished escort, lacking the energy to argue—especially against Gil's solid build. He could easily lift her if needed, just as he had done before.

"Whatever," she muttered dryly.

Gilliard remained silent, and Reane felt awkward, so she asked, "By the way, who was the man talking to my father earlier?"

"Nothing important," he replied bluntly.

Reane sneered, not expecting an honest answer.

'What did I expect from this man?' she thought. They stayed in silence until the elevator reached their destination, and they went for the gray Volvo.

Gilliard opened the left passenger door, but Reane ignored his gesture and walked to the other side, getting in from the right side. Despite the Castellijo's heir stubborn behavior he remained patient and entered the driver's seat before starting the car.

Inside, Reane sat silently in the back. Gil wasn't much of a talker, and she had no desire to break the silence either.

Reane took out her phone for a distraction and then noticed a message from her mother.

'Take care, baby. I'll see you later.'

She replied, 'Thanks, Mom,' and smiled slightly while thinking about the middle-aged woman.

Since she was young, Sylvia had always cared for her and treated her like her own child. Despite everything, Reane felt lucky to have her in her life. But no matter how much she loved Sylvia, her father was another story.

She hated him.

Rodney had always been controlling, making decisions for her without caring about what she wanted. And when she found out the truth about her real mother, her hatred deepened.

It was purely by accident that she overheard a conversation she wasn't meant to hear.

Five-year-old Reane had sneaked into her father's study to play when she caught two maids whispering in hushed tones.

"Poor girl doesn't even know the truth."

"I know... Lady Celestine was her real mother, not Lady Sylvia. Died giving birth to her."

"And Sir Rodney married her sister right after? How convenient."

Reane stood frozen, her small hands clenching her dress tightly. The words didn't make sense at first, but as they sank in, her simple mind echoed, 'Mom isn't Mom?' Her stomach twisted. She ran to her room and burst into tears.

That night, she confronted Sylvia, and though the woman tried to explain, Reane barely processed any of it. All she could think about was how her father had easily replaced her mother.

Over time, she grew to love Sylvia deeply—she had always been kind and motherly—but she could never forgive her father. He took everything into his own hands as if she were nothing more than a piece in his game.

And now, once again, he was deciding for her.

Reane exhaled sharply, gripping her phone.

"Gil? Have you ever hated someone so much that you couldn't even stand to look at them?" Reane asked, her voice quieter than usual.

Gilliard's hands remained steady on the wheel, but his gaze flickered to her in the rearview mirror; then, in his usual stoic tone, he replied,

"I think everyone has someone like that."

"Yeah... I figured you'd say that." Reane let out a quiet, humorless laugh, her fingers idly tapping against the back of her phone.

She turned to the car window, watching the afternoon light cast long shadows over the city. The faint glow of her screen flickered against the glass, blending with the moving scenery outside. And yet, even as time moved forward, her resentment toward her father would never fade.

Twelve years ago, when her friend vanished without a trace, she had begged him for help. She had cried, pleaded, and done everything a desperate teenager could to make her powerful father step in.

And he did.

But not for her.

Instead of focusing on the search, he saw it as an opportunity—an opening to negotiate business deals and expand his influence. He turned her friend's disappearance into a political move, speaking empty words to the media while doing little behind closed doors.

When she realized what he was doing, something inside her broke apart.

That was the moment she stopped believing he could ever care about anything other than his own power.

She had never forgiven him for it. And she never would.

But the worst part?

She had let him win.

In her desperation to bring her friend home, she had agreed to a contract—a legal document that, on the surface, promised his full support in finding her. But hidden beneath its promises was something far worse: a clause that gave him control of her future.

From the moment she signed it, she became nothing more than a business asset.

Every decision, every move she made, had to align with his plans. That was why he kept arranging meetings, engagements, and partnerships—her life wasn't hers anymore.

She had sold her freedom for a promise that was never fulfilled.

And now, years later, she was still paying the price, bound by the chains of her father's sins, a grip that would never loosen.

The sudden vibration of her phone cut through her thoughts.

A message popped up on the screen from Nic.

Nic: Where are you? We're already here.

Attached to the message was a photo of Nic smiling with their friends, all waiting for her.

A notification from their group chat followed.

Group Name: Pending *shrug emoticon* *confused emoticon*

Jareth: Reane, don't tell me you bailed on us.

Mira: Maybe she's just tired?

Jareth: Tired? After one meeting?

Niko: Let her breathe, Nic. Not everyone has your energy.

Reane: I'll pass, sorry guys. *crying emoticon*

Too much happened today. But I'll meet you all tomorrow.

Jareth: Unacceptable. We demand compensation.

Mira: Ignore them, Rea. Get some rest!

Nic: Fine. But you're paying for our drinks tomorrow.

Reane: Deal.

Jareth: Rest up, princess. Because tomorrow, no excuses.

Mira: *hugging cats gif*

She smiled faintly at Mira's message, but before locking her phone, she received a separate message from Nic.

'Hey, I know that a lot is going on in that head of yours; you gotta tell me about it soon, alright?' *Grinning emoticon*

"Change of plans," she murmured. "Take me home, Gil."

Gilliard simply nodded, making a smooth turn toward the Castellijo estate.