Harlond Smith sat in his study, the whispers of Jillian's actions swirling around him like a storm. He had dismissed the first few reports as exaggerations—after all, Jillian was just a girl, not some street rebel.
But the rumors didn't stop. Instead, they grew.
Associating with dangerous men. Involved in fights. Disrupting the peace. His daughter, the heir to his legacy, was now the subject of hushed conversations in the elite circles.
His grip on the armrest tightened. If Jillian was truly involved in such affairs, then it wasn't just her name at stake—it was the entire Smith family's reputation.
Harlond stood, his decision made.
"Get me a report on everything she's been doing," he ordered his most trusted aide. "And find out who these men are—Dante Cruz and Leo. I want to know everything about them."
If Jillian thought she could run from the family, she was mistaken. It was time for him to take matters into his own hands.
The following evening, a black car pulled up near the outskirts of town, its tinted windows hiding the man inside. Harlond Smith sat in silence, staring out at the dimly lit streets. He wasn't here for pleasantries—he was here for answers.
His aide, Mr. Donovan, handed him a folder. "This is everything we could find on Dante Cruz and Leo."
Harlond flipped through the pages, his expression unreadable. Dante Cruz—a former gang member with a violent past, once feared in the underworld. Leo—an expert in technology and infiltration, a man who preferred to work in the shadows. These were the people his daughter was relying on?
"Where is Jillian now?" Harlond asked.
Donovan hesitated. "She's staying in an abandoned warehouse with them."
Harlond closed the folder, his patience thinning. "Set up a meeting with them. I want to speak to my daughter."
"Sir, they might not agree—"
"They will," Harlond interrupted coldly. "Because if they don't, I'll make sure they have nowhere left to hide."
He leaned back, exhaling slowly. Jillian had chosen to live in the darkness. Now, it was time to drag her back into the light—whether she wanted to or not.
A Father's Ultimatum
The next evening, Jillian, Dante, and Leo sat around a makeshift table in the warehouse, discussing their next move. The air was tense, the weight of their recent encounters pressing down on them. Jillian was focused, determined—but that determination wavered when Leo's phone buzzed.
Leo picked it up, glancing at the message before his brows furrowed. "You're not going to like this," he muttered.
Jillian leaned in. "What is it?"
Leo handed her the phone, and as soon as she saw the name on the screen, her stomach dropped.
Harlond Smith.
"He wants a meeting," Leo said carefully. "Tomorrow. Alone."
Dante leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. "Sounds like a trap."
Jillian's fingers tightened around the phone. "It's not a trap," she said, though she wasn't entirely sure. "It's a demand."
Dante scoffed. "And what happens if you don't show?"
Jillian let out a slow breath. "Then he'll come looking for me. And that's worse."
Leo leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You don't have to go. We can move again, disappear before he gets too close."
But Jillian shook her head. She knew her father. Harlond Smith wasn't the kind of man who let things go. If she ignored him, he would keep digging, keep pressing, until he found something—or someone—to use against her.
"I have to go," she said firmly. "I need to face him."
Dante clicked his tongue. "Then we're coming with you."
"No," Jillian said immediately. "He said alone, and if he sees either of you, it'll only make things worse."
Dante didn't look pleased, but he didn't argue. He just exhaled sharply and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine. But you need a backup plan. If things go sideways, we'll be close."
Jillian nodded. "Deal."
The room fell silent for a moment before Leo finally spoke. "You think he knows everything?"
Jillian swallowed. "Not everything. But enough to be dangerous."
The realization sent a chill down her spine. Tomorrow, she wouldn't just be meeting her father—she'd be facing the man who once controlled her entire life. And if she wasn't careful, he might try to do it again.
The next day, Jillian arrived at the meeting place—a quiet, upscale restaurant just outside the main town. It was a place her father favored, a subtle reminder of control. He wanted her on his turf.
She stepped inside, her heart steady but her mind racing with possibilities. Harlond Smith sat at a private corner table, his posture as composed as ever. He was a man of power, his very presence commanding the room. When he saw her, he didn't stand or offer a greeting. He simply gestured for her to sit.
Jillian didn't hesitate. She took the seat across from him, meeting his gaze with unwavering confidence. If he wanted to intimidate her, it wasn't going to work.
"You're looking well," Harlond remarked, setting his glass of wine down.
Jillian scoffed. "You didn't call me here to exchange pleasantries."
His sharp eyes narrowed. "No, I didn't." He leaned forward slightly, his voice lowering. "I've been hearing disturbing things about you, Jillian. About the people you associate with. Dante. Leo. Criminals with dangerous reputations."
Jillian kept her expression unreadable. "And what exactly have you heard?"
"That you're working with them," Harlond said, his voice carrying an edge of displeasure. "That you've been involved in matters that put this family's name at risk."
Jillian let out a small laugh, shaking her head. "Now you care about my choices? Where was this concern when I was cast aside? When Margaret and her allies made sure I was removed from the family?"
Harlond's expression remained cold. "Margaret is no longer in the picture. But you? You are still my daughter. And I won't have you throwing away your future for—"
"For what?" Jillian interrupted, leaning forward. "For people who actually have my back? For people who didn't turn their backs on me when I needed them the most?"
Harlond exhaled through his nose, his patience visibly thinning. "Jillian, I am offering you a way back. But it comes with conditions. Cut ties with those men. Return home, and we will set things right."
Jillian stared at him for a long moment, absorbing the weight of his words. He wasn't asking. He was ordering.
And yet, there was a flicker of something else in his gaze—an unspoken fear. Was he worried about her… or about what she might uncover?
She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms. "I'm not coming back," she said evenly. "And I'm not cutting ties with anyone."
For the first time, Harlond's expression wavered. A slow, calculating look crossed his face. "Then you leave me no choice."
Jillian's jaw clenched. "What does that mean?"
Harlond picked up his glass again, taking a slow sip. "It means, my dear, that if you won't listen to reason… I will have to make you."
Jillian's blood ran cold. She had expected resistance, but not this. Not a direct threat.
She forced herself to remain composed. "You don't scare me, Father."
A small, almost amused smile tugged at his lips. "You should be scared, Jillian. You've made powerful enemies."
She pushed back her chair, standing tall. "So have you."
With that, she turned and walked away, her heart pounding in her chest. She had just drawn a line in the sand—and Harlond Smith never let defiance go unanswered.