Going Home

In the garden…

"Mr. White, the Miss is here," said the butler, a grizzled old man, to a middle aged man, looking to be in his 50s.

Said Mr. White, stiffened, his gaze on the newspaper froze on a particular word. Time itself seemed to have slowed down for the man to battle his disbelief.

After what seemed like forever, he shifted his gaze to the butler, "Are you telling the truth?"

The butler nodded, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "Miss Anita has returned home."

It's been eight years since she last stepped foot into this building. She'd cut all ties with her family when they didn't show up at her wedding.

Anita's bold move had almost destroyed their branch of the family. That period, the White family encountered a devastating setback – Mrs. White was on her deathbed and the White empire was facing issues.

Even so, their daughter left and didn't look back. The butler had gone to her numerous times, begging her to return home, but Anita refused to hear him out.

She claimed to have severed all ties with her family, and even took her husband's name and dropped her White name.

That was the last straw for Mr. Reginald White – If Anita was stubborn and hard-hearted, then her father was worse.

In retaliation, her stubborn father had removed her name from the family register and changed his will.

Despite the cold war between the father and daughter, the butler knew that deep down, Mr. Reginald White cared and was waiting for Anita to come home, to apologize for her mistakes, and seek forgiveness.

Call it ego, pride, narcissism, or what have you, Mr. White had it in abundance, which had prevented him from seeking out his daughter all those years.

The man believed that he did nothing wrong, he believed that all he did - that drove his daughter away, was for her own good. He believed that in the future, when she'd seen the ways of the world more clearly, she'd realize that he didn't harm her, but saved her.

"Where is she?" He questioned, setting his newspaper down.

"She should be in the living room right now," replied the butler.

Mr. White bolted up from his seat, but after taking a few steps, he halted, as if all that his daughter did – the pain she'd caused him had just come crashing down on him.

His brows furrowed, "Why is she here?" He mumbled. That girl had done many unforgivable things. Her actions in the past had almost brought their family's company to its knees.

"You can only find out if you go to her," the butler quickly stepped in, afraid that the man wouldn't want to see his daughter, a thing he'd been desperate for all those years.

Mr. White nodded, his butler was right. But just as he continued walking, he halted again, a deep frown settling in between his brows. "Why should I be the one to go to her? If she's here for me, she knows where to find me."

With that, the stubborn man returned to the pavilion, sitting calmly on his chair and picking up his newspaper to read, except he wasn't actually reading.

The butler sighed, feeling a headache coming. "I'll bring her," with a bow, he walked away.

Meanwhile, in the living room, Anita's gaze took in the enormous white living room. It was as she remembered it to be - luxurious to the last letter, except that it felt lonely and suffocating. No amount of wealth on display could hide the emptiness that echoed through the space.

The servants watched her without a word. They'd been working there for over ten years, and were fully aware of the strained relationship between the Miss and her parents, but they dared not throw her out, or irritate her.

Anita may have fallen out with her family, she was still a powerful woman in the city.

They watched her as she began to climb up the twirling gold stairs, her fingers trailing along the rails, every click of her heels walking her through memory lane.

This used to be her palace, her castle, the house she was born, raised, and spoiled. The walls that once echoed her voice. But she refused to entertain any memories at the moment, as it would break her resolve, and the last thing Anita wanted was to stand before her father, looking broken and unsure of her choices.

He would mock her, gloat over her failure, and claim he was right.

Anita didn't want to admit the sad reality that she indeed was a failure and that her father was right.

Even though she didn't want to dwell on memories or indulge in self-pity, it didn't mean that such unpleasant memories wouldn't invade her mind…

"I'll prove you wrong, Mr. Reginald White. I'll be the driving force behind David. I'll push him to unprecedented heights in the business world, and help him beat your own success. I'll strip away everything you hold dear, and when you're left with nothing, you'll come crawling back, begging us for forgiveness. But by then, it will be too late. Mark my words, Mr. White."

"Anita! He's your father!" her mother shouted, it only made Anita's anger and her pain boil over.

"And you, Mrs. White, you stood by and watched him destroy my life, taking away the very things that mattered most to me. Didn't he consider me his daughter then? Didn't I deserve your protection? You should have stood up to him, fought for your daughter's happiness, but instead you chose your husband! What about me? Did you forget I was your daughter, Mom?"

"There's no need to choose, Anita," her mother said, her voice laced with a desperate attempt to placate her. "We're your parents, and we would never do anything to harm you. Your father did what's best for you, and…"

Anita's mother faltered, her words trailing off as she saw the fierce determination etched on her daughter's face, the unyielding anger burning in her eyes.