chapter four

Anthony's POV

"Why did I have a sense of familiarity when I was with her?" I asked myself.

"Do I know her from somewhere?" I continued questioning myself.

"I don't think so, because I know for sure that I haven't seen her before," I said to myself.

"Micheal," I called out.

"Yes, boss?" Micheal responded.

"What do you want me to do, boss?" Micheal asked, walking in to meet me.

"I want you to investigate someone for me. I need every detail about her, even the details you feel are not important to you; I need it all," I said to Micheal.

"Okay, boss! Who?" Micheal asked, acting like he had no idea it was Emily.

"Emily," I replied in a low voice.

"On it, boss," Micheal responded as he turned around and left the office smiling.

The blaring ringtone shattered the quiet high-rise office. I glanced at my phone, and immediately my face darkened.

"Mr. Wellington" was boldly written on my phone screen.

"Why, in heaven's name, is this man calling me? It better be something important, else…" he said, letting out a deep breath before picking up the call.

"Yes, how may I help you?" I asked hastily.

"Your Grandma Eleanor collapsed," came my dad's voice from the other side of the line.

"What? How did it happen? Was there nobody at home with her? What the hell is your mistress doing?" he asked all at once, without giving his dad an opportunity to respond.

"Can you let me speak?" came his dad's voice from the speaker.

"I don't care about whatever it is you want to say, but listen to me: if anything should happen to my grandma, I won't forgive you, and I will make sure that house becomes a living nightmare for you, your mistress, and her bastard son," I said with my heart pounding.

Grandma was the only warmth left in my heart, the only family I considered real.

"I'm on my way," I said, already picking up my car keys.

The drive to my family's estate was a blur. I hadn't returned home for a long time since my father decided to remarry just a few months after my mum's suspicious death.

To me, it was never a home anymore—just a mansion filled with hate and betrayal.

But for my grandma, I will return even if I feel disgusted by the sight of my dad and his mistress.

The moment I stepped into the mansion, the air felt thick and suffocating. The scent of expensive perfume and fresh flowers failed to mask the stench of deception.

"Anthony," a smooth voice called.

I turned sharply. My stepmother, Vivian, stood at the top of the stairs, her silk robe flowing like a queen's cape. Beside her, my stepbrother, James, smirked with the arrogance of a vulture circling a dying prey.

I clenched my fists. "Where's Grandma?"

"In her room," James said lazily, leaning against the railing of the stairs. "But we need to talk first," James added.

I strode past them, but Vivian's voice stopped me.

"You can't keep running away from us forever, my darling,"

I turned slowly, my jaw tightening. "I wasn't running away. I was leaving filth."

Vivian's face darkened. "Is that what you think of your family?" she asked.

I let out a bitter laugh. "You are not my family.

You and your bastard son entered my father's life while my mum was still warm in her grave." My voice dropped, cold and sharp.

"Tell me, Vivian, how much of my mum's death was an accident?" I asked her. I noticed a flicker of something—fear?—crossed her face before she masked it with a sigh.

"Anthony," my dad stepped in, feigning concern, "you need to let this go. It's been years. Your anger—"

"My anger?" I stepped closer, my voice dangerously low. "My mother was healthy, and then suddenly, she falls down the stairs? The same stairs you and your dear family now own?"

"Anthony, it was an accident that nobody expected. Stop slandering anyone without proof," my dad said.

I smirked. ''You're right about one thing: that is, I have no proof, but guilt has a way of surfacing, doesn't it?''

A tense silence stretched between us. Then, without another word, I turned and walked away.

I found my grandma in her room, her frail frame resting on the bed, an IV drip attached to her wrist. When her eyes fluttered open, she smiled weakly.

"You came."

"Of course I did." I looked at her hand, my chest tightening at how cold it felt. She studied me with knowing eyes.

"Did you see them?" she asked

I exhaled sharply.

"Yes."

"And?" Grandma asked again

I looked at her, the only person who had ever truly loved me in this house.

"I feel nothing but disgust," I said to her as my face darkened.

Grandma sighed.

"Hatred is heavy, my child. Don't let them weigh you down."

I pressed a kiss to her hand.

"I won't. But I will never forget all the pain they put me through." I said to her.

As I sat beside my grandma, I silently vowed that one day I would uncover the truth about my mother's death. And when I do, neither Vivian nor her bastard son will ever stain my family's name again.