He’s probably counting his options and coming up with a plan to destroy Ethan. Quick wit and the ability to make snap decisions under stress are the reasons why Jonathan is what he is today.

When other people freak, Jonathan is focused on finding efficient solutions. If he falls, he doesn’t dwell on the smash, he dwells on how to never fall again.

“You really didn’t know he’s alive?” I ask.

The smirk still tilts his lips. “If I did, I wouldn’t have gone after his daughter. Interesting. Maybe he kept in hiding to see how I would’ve handled the existence of his only heir.”

I wouldn’t be surprised.

But unlike Jonathan, Ethan is affectionate towards Elsa. He wouldn’t erase himself from her life and make her believe he’s dead just for a game with Jonathan.

Besides, Ethan is a businessman. He wouldn’t have willingly left his empire for ten years without a reason.

I shove a hand in my pocket. “Ethan won’t waste time and will attack straightaway.”

“Then we attack first.” He stands and buttons his jacket. “Call Levi. We have a war to plot.”

 

 

3

 

 

Elsa

 

 

They say one second is all it takes for everything to be flipped upside down.

I had many seconds like those in my life.

When I erased my memories.

When I met Aiden for the first time in RES.

When I almost drowned in the pool.

When I recalled some of my dark, bloody past.

However, the second I set eyes on my supposedly dead father is, without a doubt, the highlight of all.

Since he walked through the door, all I could do was stare at him. I even stopped myself from blinking, too afraid he’ll disappear into thin air the moment I close my eyes.

Dad, Knox, and I ride in the back of a car. I haven’t paid attention to what type of car it is, but it must be luxurious considering the high-quality caramel leather seats. There’s even a driver who’s separated from us by a window.

Knox’s headphones rest around his neck as he sits beside my dad without a care in the world. He smiles like an idiot while scrolling through his phone.

Please tell me he’s not going through memes right now.

I’m over here, opposite them, my frozen hands tucked between my legs. Strands of my wet hair and clothes stick to my skin and a shiver shoots from my scalp to my toes despite the heat in the car.

None of it matters.

All my attention zeroes on the man in front of me.

Dad.

My dad is alive.

In the nightmare I had this morning, he was drowning in a pool of his own blood, shouting at me to run.

How can he be here now?

He’s watching me with warmth glinting in his eyes especially tailored for me.

Hazy memories filter back in.

Back then, Dad used to be stern and a control freak. The staff and Daddy’s friends who wore black — whom I now recognise as bodyguards — trembled at the sight of him. He was the type of man who commanded any room he stood in.

Ethan Steel — the emperor of Steel’s fortune. A ruthless businessman and an unforgiving enemy.

My father.

When I was younger, I saw him from a different perspective than everyone else. To me, he wasn’t the merciless, heartless man everyone feared and cowered away from. He was Daddy.

Just Daddy.

He was the type of father who wouldn’t just read me bedtime stories, but he’d also perform them for me. He tickled me until I broke into giggles.

He took me on long runs in the rain.

He saved me from the monsters in the lake.

Daddy never frowned when he looked at me. When he was having a bad day, it’d take a glance at me and a smile would break on his face.

“Are you comfortable, princess?” he asks with a low, yet warm voice.

Princess.

Back then, I was his princess. His favourite. His legacy. His masterpiece.

A lump lodges deep in my throat. I can’t speak even if I want to, so I nod.

For long minutes, silence is the only language in the car.

I watch the lines on Dad’s face. He has a sharp jaw and high cheekbones that give him an untraditional type of masculine beauty. From afar, we look nothing alike, but up close, I share the thickness of his lashes and the shape of his eyes — mine are just a bit bigger.

He places his elbow on the edge of the car seat and leans on it as he watches me. We’re like two injured animals that don’t know how to accept offered help.

Or maybe I’m the only one who feels that way. After all, Dad knew exactly where to find me.

“I understand this can seem too much.” Dad’s posh accent fills the car.

Can seem too much?

Is he kidding? He just returned from the dead. Surely, there are some other words he could use.

“I told you she’s not ready.” Knox doesn’t avert his attention from his phone.

“That’s up to me to decide,” Ethan tells him.

Knox lifts a shoulder. “Just saying, Dad.”

Dad?

My gaze snaps to Knox. Did he just call my dad his dad?

He’s about my age, when the hell did Dad have him? Is he from another woman?

“Are you…” I clear my throat. “Are you my brother?”

Knox lifts his gaze from his phone and winks. “Foster brother, babe.”

Oh. Okay.

He does bear some resemblance to Eli. Is that why Dad took him in?

Although I doubt Dad would take in anyone just for that; he doesn’t like anyone to get into his familial bubble. Now that I think about it, Dad’s concern for privacy came before all else. That’s why he kept us away from civilisation.

However, all of this is only a speculation based on what I remember about Dad. It’s been ten years, he could’ve changed into an entirely different person.

“I’m hurt you don’t remember me.” Knox pouts like a child who’s been deprived of his favourite toy.

“Remember you?” I ask.

“Yeah. You ought to remember me after —”

“Knox.” The warning in Dad’s tone is loud and clear.

Knox shrugs and goes back to scrolling through his phone.

Okay. That’s weird.

Super weird.

I meet Dad’s brown eyes. They’re so wise and deep, you could get lost in there and never find a way out. He must use his penetrating gaze as an intimidation method during business meetings.

“You’ve been raising Knox all this time?” I try not to sound bitter, but I’m not sure I succeeded.

Dad left me for ten years. All this time, I thought he was dead and buried somewhere I would never find while he was actually alive and well. Hell, he’s been raising another child while his only daughter lived with relatives.

“Nah, not really. We raised ourselves,” Knox says.

“We?”

He smirks. “There’s another one.”

“Another one?” I meant to shout, but my vocal cords constrict so the only thing that comes out is a choked murmur.

“Shut up for a second, Knox.” Dad sounds both exasperated and resigned.

“Whatever.”

Dad focuses back on me. He removes his jacket, and before I can react, he wraps it around my shoulders.

My fingers dig into the expensive material as he settles back into his seat.