Chương 4: Chapter 4: Confrontation of the Past
The days that followed were filled with anticipation, a heavy silence hanging in the air of my office. The phone call from my father had stirred something deep within me—a fire I had buried for so long, a fire that was now blazing out of control. I had once dreamed of confronting him, of making him see the damage he had caused. But now, I no longer sought validation or closure from him. What I wanted was justice. Revenge.
Josef had kept his word. He relayed my terms to my father, and just as expected, my father agreed to meet me. He would come alone, a sign of his arrogance, or perhaps his confidence in manipulating me once again. But he underestimated how far I had come. How much I had changed.
The day of the meeting arrived, and I was ready. The city was blanketed by a cold fog, the air thick with the weight of what was to come. I stood in my office, gazing out the window, the same view I had looked at countless times before. But today, it felt different. Today, I wasn't the broken girl who had once stared out at this city, wondering what her life could have been. Today, I was someone entirely new—someone who would make the world bend to her will.
The door to my office opened with a soft click, and Josef entered, his face unreadable.
"He's here," he said simply.
I nodded. The time had come.
---
The meeting was set in a private, dimly lit room in the penthouse of my building. I had chosen the location carefully, a neutral ground, but one where I held the upper hand. As I stepped into the room, I could feel the weight of the past bearing down on me. The walls seemed to close in, suffocating, as if the memories themselves were watching, waiting for me to make my move.
And then, he walked in.
My father. He was just as I remembered—tall, imposing, his presence dominating the room. But there was a tremor in his eyes, something unfamiliar, something I hadn't seen in him before. Regret? Fear? Perhaps a little of both. It didn't matter. He had come seeking forgiveness, and what he would find instead was judgment.
He looked at me with that familiar coldness, but there was a flicker of something else beneath it—guilt, maybe. Or perhaps it was just the recognition that he had underestimated the woman I had become.
"Emily," he said, his voice calm, but there was a tremor there too, as if he wasn't sure what kind of reception he would get.
I didn't answer him right away. Instead, I took my time, walking slowly toward the center of the room, the click of my heels echoing in the silence. I could feel the tension between us, thick and suffocating. Finally, I stopped and turned to face him.
"So, you're here," I said, my voice cold and detached, every word measured. "After all these years, after everything you did to me, you think one meeting will change anything?"
He flinched, just a slight movement, but I saw it. He was beginning to regret this. To regret believing that time could wash away his sins.
"I know I've done wrong," he said, his voice almost pleading. "I know I can't undo the past, but I want to make things right. I want to fix the mistakes I made."
I laughed, but it was a hollow sound, one that didn't carry any joy. "Fix the mistakes?" I repeated, my voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think you can fix it all by saying a few words? By pretending that the years of abuse, betrayal, and neglect never happened? You think I'll just forgive you because you've decided now that you're sorry?" I shook my head slowly, my eyes narrowing. "You've never understood me, have you? You've never understood what your actions did to me."
His expression wavered for a moment, but he recovered quickly. "I was trying to protect you, Emily. I thought... I thought I was doing what was best for you. You have to understand, the family needed to maintain its power. I didn't want to see you hurt."
"Protect me?" I spat the words out like venom. "You think that's what you were doing? You were using me. You and my sister, you both destroyed me. You set me up for failure, for pain. I was nothing but a pawn in your game."
His eyes hardened, the mask of indifference slipping back into place. "I did what I had to do," he said, his tone firm. "I did what was necessary for the family. You're being naive if you think any of this was personal. It was always about the bigger picture."
I took a step closer, my eyes never leaving his. "The bigger picture?" I whispered, my voice dangerously low. "What about the bigger picture of my life? What about everything you took from me?"
He looked away, unwilling to meet my gaze. He couldn't face the truth. He couldn't face the reality of what he had done.
"I'm not here for your excuses, Father," I said, my voice steady. "I'm here to make sure you understand the consequences of your actions. You've ruined my life, and I'm going to make sure you pay for it."
The words hung in the air like a declaration, and for a moment, the room was silent. My father seemed to realize, in that instant, that he was no longer in control. That the power he had once wielded over me had been shattered long ago.
"Emily, please," he said again, his voice shaking. "Don't do this. You don't have to go down this path. Let me help you."
I smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "Help me?" I repeated, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You can't help me, Father. You never could."
Without another word, I turned on my heel and walked toward the door. My father stood frozen behind me, a man broken by the very power he had once thought he controlled.
But as I left the room, the weight of my words lingered in the air. I wasn't done with him yet. Not by a long shot.
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