Chapter 3 Betrayal in the shadows

Anna woke up to the soft glow of a bedside lamp in Quinn's house, the faint hum of the city outside serving as a backdrop. She blinked, her body still heavy with exhaustion and grief. Quinn, her childhood friend, sat beside her, concern etched across her face.

"Anna, I'm so sorry for your loss," Quinn said gently, handing her a glass of water. "You're strong, and I know you'll overcome this. You have to."

Anna took the glass and drank slowly, the water doing little to quench the dryness in her throat. Her heart was still heavy, weighed down by the cruel events of the day. Quinn urged her to stay the night, but after a brief rest, Anna decided she had to return home, despite her friend's protests.

When she arrived back at the house, the sight of her uncle Whittaker and his wife Leticia in the compound made her stomach churn. They were seated on the porch, talking animatedly, their voices cutting through the still night air.

"Too bad he died without a son," Whittaker said, his tone flippant, almost gleeful.

"Oh, darling, you're too nice," Leticia replied, her voice dripping with mockery. "It's really a good thing he's gone. He always acted like he was better than us just because your mother handed the Harriet Group to him."

Anna froze, her breath hitching. Their words were like knives to her soul, each one cutting deeper than the last. She clenched her fists, trembling with rage and disbelief. These were the people who had hurried to bury her father without her, who had pretended to mourn him just hours ago. Now they sat there rejoicing, mocking the man who had poured his life into the family business and into her.

Her father had been her hero-a man of integrity who had worked tirelessly to keep the Harriet Group thriving. He had built alliances with influential partners and mentored many, including her. Now, his memory was being desecrated by his own brother and sister-in-law.

Steeling herself, Anna walked past them into the house, hoping they would end their vile conversation. But as she entered, their voices followed her, sharp and unapologetic.

"Anna, sit down. I have something to tell you," Whittaker commanded as she passed the living room.

Anna stopped but didn't turn to face him. Her body was taut with tension, every fiber of her being screaming to walk away. "Uncle, please," she said softly, her voice pleading. "Can we talk about this tomorrow? I'm really tired."

"Sit down there, you wench!" Leticia barked, her voice harsh and venomous.

Anna turned slowly, her eyes wide with shock and pain. Leticia's face was twisted in disdain, and her words hung in the air like a slap.

"Darling, why are you petting her?" Leticia continued, her voice loud and grating. "Look here, Anna. Your father inherited this house and everything else because he was a Harriet. But now that he's dead, and without an heir, all of it-this house, the business, everything-is now transferred to my husband. Whittaker is the rightful owner, and you'd better get used to it."

Anna's knees threatened to give way beneath her. The cold cruelty in Leticia's voice was more than she could bear. This wasn't just about taking the house or the business; it was about erasing her father's legacy, the man who had given everything for this family.

Her eyes darted to Whittaker, hoping for some semblance of shame or regret, but he remained silent, his expression smug and satisfied.

The room spun as Anna struggled to process their words. Her father's life, his sacrifices, everything he had worked for-they were treating it as though it meant nothing. And worse, they looked at her as though she were nothing, a mere obstacle in their path to claiming everything he had left behind.

She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms as she fought to keep her composure. Inside, her heart shattered into a million pieces, her grief compounded by the betrayal of the very people who should have been family.

Anna had never felt more alone, more vulnerable. Her father was gone, and with him, her shield against the wolves now circling her. But even in her despair, a spark of resolve flickered within her. She would not let them erase her father's memory.

Leticia's voice droned on, sharp and mocking, but Anna no longer heard her. She stared at them, her expression cold and unreadable, but inside, she vowed to fight back.