Marrying My Father's Enemy-Chapter 88: Vanesa’s View

If audio player doesn't work, press Reset or reload the page.

Chapter 88: Vanesa’s View

Chapter 88: Vanesa’s View

She sat alone in her room, staring at her reflection in the mirror.

Her fingers traced the curve of her nose, the one her mother had ordered fixed when she was just sixteen.

It wasn’t her decision.

Beatrice had looked at her one day, smiled sweetly, and said, "Darling, you will thank me for this when you’re older."

Vanesa had cried that night.

She hadn’t wanted her face altered.

But Beatrice didn’t listen.

She rarely did when she was in one of her moods.

On good days, her mother was warm, affectionate, and almost doting.

She’d hold Vanesa’s hand, call her "my beautiful little doll," and tell her she was the only one who truly mattered.

Those moments were rare, but Vanesa clung to them. They were the only times she felt loved.

But then, there were the other days.

The cold ones.

The ones where Beatrice looked at her like she was a piece of art that had cracked.

Vanesa bit her lip hard enough to taste blood.

She couldn’t stop overthinking about the mess she’d made with Eira.

The humiliation she’d caused her.

’Why would Eira want anything to do with her now? Why would she want an alliance?’ The thought made her stomach churn.

Her head snapped up at the faint sound of footsteps outside her door.

’Father!’

She recognised his stride—calm, purposeful, always in control.

She stood abruptly and rushed out, her heart pounding a little faster.

She found him in his office, sitting behind his desk.

His strong energy filled the room, as it always did.

Henry Blackwood was a force of nature, a man who could command respect without saying a word.

"Daddy," Vanesa said softly, stepping into the room.

Henry didn’t look up from the papers he was signing. "What is it, Vanesa? I’m busy."

She hesitated, then walked closer. "I just... I wanted to talk."

"Talk about what?" he asked, his tone seemed clipped.

Vanesa shifted nervously. "About everything. About Eira, about the family... about us."

Henry’s pen stilled, but he didn’t lift his head. "What about us?"

Vanesa moved closer, leaning on the edge of his desk. "I just... I want to help, Daddy. I want to prove myself. I know I’ve made mistakes, but I can fix them."

Finally, Henry looked up, his blue eyes piercing through her. "Fix them? How?"

"I’ll make Eira pay," she blurted out, her voice was shaking from the nervous pressure inside her body.

"She humiliated us. I’ll get revenge for the family. For you."

Something shifted in Henry’s expression.

His jaw tightened, and his eyes turned cold.

"Revenge?" he repeated.

"Yes," Vanesa said eagerly, leaning closer. "I’ll ruin her. I’ll—"

"Enough," Henry snapped, slamming his hand on the desk.

Vanesa flinched, her confidence crumbling under his glare.

"Revenge," he said again. "That’s your grand plan? You can’t even handle your own messes, Vanesa. You’re useless."

The word cut deeper than any blade.

Vanesa’s breath hitched, but she forced herself to stand tall. "I’m not useless. I just want to make you proud."

Henry stood abruptly, towering over her. "Proud? You think this makes me proud? You’re running around like a fool, embarrassing this family at every turn?"

Sour water formed in Vanesa’s eyes, but she blinked them back.

She couldn’t cry in front of him.

Not again.

"Do you even care about this family?" Henry continued. "Do you understand the damage you’ve done?"

"I do," she whispered. "I’m trying to make it right."

"Trying isn’t enough," he snapped. "Not anymore."

Vanesa looked up at him. "Daddy, please. I love you. I love this family. I’ll do anything to prove it."

Henry turned away from her, running a hand through his hair. "Then stop talking about revenge and start being useful."

Vanesa hesitated, then took a deep breath. "Did Mom ever cheat on you?"

The question hung in the air like a thunderclap.

Henry’s body seemed to paralyze while his back was to her.

Slowly, he turned around.

"What did you say?" he asked in a whisper.

Vanesa swallowed hard. "I just... I need to know. Did she? Did Mom—"

Before she could finish, Henry’s hand shot out, striking her across the face.

The sound echoed in the room, so brutal.

Vanesa stumbled back, her hand flying to her cheek.

She stared at him, stunned.

"How dare you," Henry hissed in a shaking voice. "How dare you ask me that?"

"I—I didn’t mean—"

"Get out," he barked, pointing to the door.

"Daddy, I’m sorry, I—"

"GET OUT!" he roared, his face red from anger.

Vanesa didn’t argue.

She turned and fled the room, her vision blurred with tears.

She ran down the hallway, past the portraits of her parents that lined the walls, past the memories of a family that had never truly been whole.

When she reached her room, she slammed the door shut and collapsed onto her bed, sobbing into her pillow.

For a moment, she wished she could go back.

Back to when her mother’s love felt real, even if it was fleeting.

Back to when she thought Henry was the perfect father, untouchable and strong.

But those days were gone.

Now, all she had was the truth. And it hurt more than any slap ever could.

She was in no position to demand anything anymore.

She messed up and caused more damage to her family than one could think.

But she also didn’t know how to stop.

Feeling entitled was her only escape to show power and control people around her. It was her only way of proving she was better than everyone else.

She thought that she’d always have her parents’ support no matter what, but the beautiful vase fell down and cracked on the floor.

There was no more saving this family, but the hate also couldn’t go away.

She hated Eira for being right.

She hated Eira for showing up and ruining her family.

She hated Eira because she was the reason why Henry was so cold toward Vanesa.

She hated Eira for being naturally beautiful...

She hated Eira for being married to her biggest crush.

She hated Eira because Eira was everything Vanesa couldn’t become.

Read 𝓁atest chapters at fr(e)ewebnov𝒆l.com Only

RECENTLY UPDATES