“Enjoying the view out there?” Klein inquired, breaking the silence.
“It’s nothing special,” Whitney replied, surprised at herself for even responding.
Klein chuckled softly. “So you’d rather stare out the window than look at me, just because you’re scared?” he pressed, his voice teasing yet sharp.
Whitney flinched at his words, whispering, “No, it’s not that…”
After that, she leaned against the window, fatigue washing over her, and dozed off.
When she finally stirred awake, she found a blanket draped over her. Rubbing her eyes, still half-asleep, she asked, “Oh, we arrived? Uncle Klein, why didn’t you wake me?”
Turning her head, she saw Klein focused intently on his laptop, headphones snugly over his ears.
So he really was in a meeting, she thought, a wave of understanding washing over her.
Quietly, she unbuckled her seatbelt, setting the blanket aside. She mouthed a silent thank you to Klein before slipping out of the car.
“Mr. Harris, did you just hear something?” someone in the meeting asked, their voice breaking through the atmosphere of concentration.
Klein frowned slightly. “Yeah, that was my nephew’s wife. Let’s get back to it,” he replied, dismissing the interruption.
Whitney stepped out of the car, her heart racing as she returned home.
Once inside, she sank into the couch, her nerves still buzzing from the ride.
After five long years, Klein had become more of an enigma than ever. Whitney couldn’t quite wrap her mind around him anymore.
“Madam, do you want anything to eat tonight?” Linda asked, her voice breaking the silence.
Whitney glanced at the clock, noting it was already nine. “Nope, thanks,” she replied, her voice weary.
She waited another ten minutes, realizing her case files were still at her apartment. There was no way she could appear in court tomorrow wearing the outfit she had on now.
With determination, she grabbed her purse and headed for the door.
Linda looked surprised. “Mrs. Harris, are you heading out now?”
Whitney offered a faint smile, shaking her head. “Don’t call me Mrs. Harris.”
Soon enough, Carter would be out of her life for good.
Whitney stood at the imposing gate of the villa, her heart racing as she anxiously awaited the Uber driver to accept her ride request. The villa, nestled far from the bustling city center, felt like a fortress, and it seemed to take an eternity-ten long minutes-before her ride finally materialized.
In the shadows, a sleek Maybach lingered, its presence unnoticed by her.
Meanwhile, Klein glanced at his watch, frustration etched across his face. “Just got home, and she’s heading out again?” he muttered to himself, disbelief coloring his tone.
*****
In her modest 120-square-yard apartment, Whitney finally felt a flicker of vitality returning to her. The walls, painted in a soft, inviting hue, surrounded her like a warm embrace. She pulled out her phone to check her bank balance, her heart racing at the thought of financial independence. Just a little more, and she could finally pay off the apartment in full-a dream she had long held onto.
After college, Whitney had mostly embraced solitude, living alone and renting her own space. Samuel had always been there to cover her tuition, but the moment she turned eighteen, she had made it her mission to break free from the confines of her childhood home.
Now, the Moore family felt like distant figures from a long-forgotten tale, their connections frayed and faded.
To Samuel, Whitney had become nothing more than a pawn in his game, someone he could manipulate whenever it suited him.
If she truly wished to sever ties with her engagement to Carter, it would mean confronting her father, a choice that left no room for retreat.
As these thoughts swirled in her mind, Whitney succumbed to a deep sleep, her worries momentarily forgotten.
*****
The next day, as the clock struck 5 PM, Whitney emerged from the courthouse, her sharp black suit giving her an air of authority. She had just bid farewell to her client when her phone buzzed with an incoming call from her father.
“Whit, make sure to bring Carter over for dinner tonight. April has whipped up all your favorites. Don’t be late,” Samuel insisted, his voice a commanding presence on the line.
With a scoff, Whitney ended the call, rolling her eyes in exasperation. There was no way she was reaching out to Carter. Instead, she contemplated the possibility of returning home to confront her family with the truth, face-to-face.
“Ms. Whitney Moore, welcome back,” April greeted her warmly as she stepped inside. April had been the Moore family’s housekeeper for years, and she was one of the few who treated Whitney with genuine respect.
Every time April spoke to her in that manner, Whitney could feel Tina’s disdainful gaze rolling her eyes in the background.
“April, I brought you a strawberry cake. I thought you might enjoy it,” Whitney offered, her smile genuine.
“Thank you, Ms. Whitney Moore. You’re always so thoughtful. I truly wish your mother were still here,” April replied, a hint of sadness in her voice.
Whitney placed a reassuring hand on April’s shoulder. “Don’t say that. If they hear you, it’ll only make things worse for you.”
As Whitney stepped further into the foyer, still clad in her business attire, she caught sight of Samuel’s expression souring at her presence. “Could you at least change out of those work clothes before coming home?” he snapped, his disapproval palpable.
He had never been fond of her career; to him, a woman engaging in debates and discussions was hardly what he deemed appropriate.
“Didn’t you tell me to get here early?” Whitney shot back, her voice steady.
“Go wash your hands. Carter’s already here,” Samuel instructed, his tone dismissive.
Whitney’s heart sank as she spotted Carter lounging on the couch, a casual air about him.
“Why are you here?” she asked, suspicion creeping into her voice.
She hadn’t called him, and it was strange for him to just appear without any prior notice.
“I called Carter,” Samuel interjected, casting a pointed look at Whitney before plastering on a friendly smile. “Carter, don’t take it personally. She just says whatever comes to mind. You know how she is.”
Carter offered a faint smile in return. “Samuel, I actually appreciate Whitney just the way she is.”
“Gross,” Whitney muttered under her breath, a wave of nausea washing over her at the thought.
Samuel’s expression darkened further. “Do you have any manners at all?”
Whitney shrugged, her tone dry. “You two enjoy your dinner. I’m still full from breakfast, so I’ll be skipping it.”
With that, she turned on her heel and vanished into her room, seeking refuge from the tension.
As she opened the door, a cascade of boxes tumbled down, crashing to the floor.
Her eyes narrowed as she surveyed the chaos around her-packages were strewn everywhere, some torn open, others still sealed.
Her bedroom had become a dumping ground, a stark reminder of her family’s disregard for her space.
“Oh, Whit, you just waltz into my room without so much as a knock?” Tina whined, feigning shock.
Whitney’s gaze hardened. “Your room?”
“Tina, you’ve got five minutes to explain why my room is overflowing with your stuff,” Whitney demanded coldly, her patience wearing thin.
Tina raised her chin defiantly, a smirk playing on her lips. “Look, your room is way bigger than mine. You hardly ever stay here anymore, so why can’t I use it for my things?
“Come on, Whit, you’re not actually mad about this, are you?”
Even though Whitney rarely spent time in the villa, she refused to let her space be overrun by someone else’s clutter.
She smirked, not caring if the boxes were dusty, and grabbed a handful from the floor, tossing them into Tina’s room.
“Whit, what are you doing? Are you out of your mind?” Tina yelled, her voice rising in disbelief.
Whitney couldn’t help but grin. “I wasn’t before, but I’m about to lose it now.”
New Book: Back Home to Marry Off Myself
Loredana’s father left the family for his mistress, leaving them to fend for themselves abroad. When life was at its toughest, her father showed up with “good news” after 8 years of absence: To marry off Loredana to a paralyzed son of the wealthy Mendelsohn family.