Chapter 5 Atonement

Sylvia's grip on her phone was so tight her knuckles blanched.

On the other end, Gary kept droning, wrapping his filthy demand in the language of fatherly concern and family honor.

Her chest rose and fell sharply. The fury boiling inside her burned away the last trace of hesitation.

Then, suddenly, she smiled—a small, cold curve of her lips. The sound that followed was soft enough to slip through the receiver... yet it froze Gary mid-sentence.

"Fine," she said, her tone unnervingly calm, almost obedient. "Dad, I understand."

Gary hadn't expected her to yield so easily. There was a beat of stunned silence before his voice lit up with triumph. "That's my girl! I knew you'd be sensible, that you'd think of the bigger picture! Now hurry—"

"I'll make the statement," Sylvia cut in, ending the call without another word.

Henry had been sitting quietly nearby, watching the scene unfold. He slid a glass of water toward her.

Sylvia didn't look at him, her gaze fixed on the glowing phone screen.

After a moment's thought, she asked, "Do you think I'm cruel?"

Henry's mouth curved faintly. "I think it's about time."

Sylvia opened a social media account she hadn't touched in months—the verified profile of a Brooks Family heiress with tens of thousands of followers.

Her fingers flew across the screen.

Upload. Edit. Post.

It took less than three minutes.

When she was done, she tossed the phone aside and leaned back into the couch, eyes closed, as if the act had drained her completely.

Henry glanced at the screen, then quietly began clearing away the half-eaten breakfast. "Eat first," he said. "I'm stepping out for a bit."

She didn't ask where. "Alright. Thank you."

Almost instantly, the internet erupted.

Sylvia's account had posted a new update—short, blunt, and devastating.

First, a crystal-clear audio recording: her conversation with Gary moments ago. His false warmth and desperate manipulation laid bare in his own voice.

Second, several blurred but still recognizable photos—hotel room background, clothes half-off, Andrew and Rosa caught together in compromising positions.

Finally, one bold line in heavy black text: [I, Sylvia, hereby end my engagement to Andrew. From this day forward, we go our separate ways.]

The post hit like a depth charge, detonating the gossip mill.

Before, Andrew and Rosa's affair had been rumor. Now it was confirmed by Andrew's fiancée herself—complete with the bombshell that Gary had tried to coerce Sylvia into taking the blame.

Her phone lit up with call after call, Andrew and "Dad" flashing back and forth on the screen. She silenced them without a glance.

At last, her world was quiet.

Not for long.

Soon, a new wave hit the feeds.

Unable to reach Sylvia, Laura Thorne and Rosa took to the internet, playing the victims. From freshly made accounts, they poured out bleeding-heart posts about how Rosa had been misunderstood, how she was wracked with guilt toward Sylvia and the Brooks Family, how she'd thought about ending her life.

Every line dripped with implication—Sylvia was cold, heartless, unforgiving—an attempt at moral blackmail to drag her back into the spotlight.

Sylvia scrolled once, shut the page, and scoffed.

By nightfall, the doorbell rang again.

Henry stepped in with takeout. The apartment was dark except for the faint glow of city neon spilling through the window, casting Sylvia in shadow.

"Not hungry?" He set the food down and flicked on the living room light.

Warm light chased away the gloom, revealing her pale but steady face.

She shook her head. No appetite.

Henry didn't press. He arranged the food with deliberate calm before speaking. "The Smith Family is moving."

"To protect their name and current projects, they're planning to have Andrew marry Rosa," he said evenly. "Two families tied together, turning a scandal into a 'romantic story'—it's what they do best."

Sylvia's eyes snapped to him. How would a hotel waiter know the Smith Family's plans?

"How do you know what they're thinking?"

Henry hesitated, lips tugging slightly. "People at the hotel were talking. I overheard."

She let it drop.

He was right. The Smiths would turn the mess into a marriage, and her fight would end up handing victory to those two.

After a long silence, she stood.

"I'm going back."

Her voice was soft, but her eyes were steel.

Some things had to be settled face to face.

The Brooks Mansion blazed with light, but the air was cold as a morgue.

Gary sat at the head of the living room, his face dark. The moment she stepped in, he snatched up a teacup and hurled it at her feet. Porcelain shattered, shards skittering across the floor.

"You still know how to come home? Look at what you've done!" He jabbed a finger at her, shaking with rage. "You've dragged the Brooks Family's name through the mud!"

Sylvia stepped past the wreckage, her expression flat. "If losing face means refusing to take the fall for Rosa, then I'll wear that shame gladly."

"You—" Gary choked, chest heaving. It took him a moment to steady his voice. "What's done is done. Talking won't help. Andrew and Rosa's situation will be handled the way the Smith Family wants."

She arched a brow, waiting.

Gary drew a deep breath, as if bracing himself. "You will marry Zachary Smith."

Sylvia thought she'd misheard.

Zachary—the rumored power behind the Smith Family, ruthless, reclusive, nearly a decade older than Andrew?

"The Smiths have agreed," Gary said, his tone brooking no argument. "If you marry him, the Brooks Family's crisis will vanish. We'll gain a deeper alliance with the Smiths. This is your one chance to atone."

"Atonement?" Sylvia laughed, the sound sharp as glass. Her eyes were ice. "What crime? Not obeying you? Exposing your filth?"

She stepped closer, locking eyes with him. "I'll say it again—my marriage is mine to decide. Even if it were the king himself, if I don't want to marry, no one will force me."

"Are you rebelling?" Gary slammed the table and shot to his feet. "Sylvia, I'm telling you—this family doesn't give you a choice! You'll marry whether you want to or not!"

"Then I'll have no father. No family." Years of bitterness and fury surged up, and she shouted through the tears burning her eyes. "From this moment, I cut all ties with the Brooks Family. We're done!"

She turned on her heel, unwilling to spend another second in this poisonous place.

Laura, silent until now, hurried to block her path. Her voice was syrupy soft. "Gary only wants what's best—for you, for all of us. We're family. Why can't we talk it through instead of cutting ties? You'll break his heart..."