When my father, after pulling away from his top-secret project, stood before me.
He said, "We'll always be here to support you, my dear."
Remembering my father's words, my grip tightened around my phone.
Calmly, I dialed a number. "The plan can begin now."
Almost instantly, I heard the screech of tires. The car carrying Dylan and Amara skidded to a stop right in front of me.
Then at that moment, the doors burst open.
Several bodyguards rushed out, yanking Dylan and Amara from their seats before they could react.
"Who the hell are you? Let me go!" Dylan thrashed violently, but the men held him firm.
"What's going on?" Amara screamed, her voice cracking with panic. "Dylan, help me!"
I stepped forward, my pace unhurried, my expression calm.
Then, I stopped in front of them, meeting their eyes.
Dylan's eyes locked on me, and I saw his jaw tighten. He cursed under his breath.
"Elaine! What the hell are you doing now?" His voice dripped with irritation, clearly thinking I was making a scene to grab his attention.
"What is it? Have you made enough of a scene?" he sneered. "Or are you hoping to crawl back and beg me to take you as my wife again?"
I didn't dignify him with a response. Instead, I threw a document right at his face.
The papers were scattered across the floor like confetti.
I looked down at him, disheveled and pitiable, speaking slowly to ensure each word was clear.
"Dylan, I should've mentioned something earlier. This banquet? It's my father's celebration, and it was designed as a trap for you."
I let that sink in before I added, "This document? It's the gift I've been preparing for you for the last three years. Your trip to hell starts now."
