Chapter 2 - The Storm on the Mountain
By seven o'clock the next morning, the winter sun broke through the storm clouds, casting a sharp, blinding glare across the snow-covered pines.
Peyton was still resting, so I sat at the small wooden desk in the hotel suite, reviewing my company’s financial records. I run a successful regional logistics and supply chain consultancy firm—a business I had built from the ground up through eighty-hour work weeks while raising Peyton as a single mother.
My phone rang on the desk. It wasn't my father or Nelson. It was my property manager back in our hometown, Marcus.
"Elena," Marcus said, his voice laced with concern. "I’m calling because your brother Nelson just showed up at your townhouse back in the city. He’s standing on the front steps, banging on the door, and demanding to speak with you."
I gripped the phone tightly. "Is he alone?"
"No," Marcus replied. "Your father is sitting in a taxi parked at the curb, looking furious. Nelson told the security guard at the gate that you abandoned them on the mountain and stole your father's credit cards."
A cold laugh escaped my lips. "Stole my father's credit cards? Every card in his wallet was under my name, paid by my corporate account."
"I figured as much," Marcus said. "Security told them to leave, but Nelson started causing a scene, yelling that you’re abusing your elderly father. Should I call the local police?"
"Yes," I said without a second of hesitation. "Provide security with a copy of the emergency restraining order I just forwarded to your email. If they step foot on the driveway again, have them arrested for trespassing."
"Consider it done," Marcus confirmed.
Ten minutes later, my phone chimed with a text message from an unknown number. I opened it. It was from my cousin, Sarah—the only person in the family who had ever shown a grain of decency.
Elena, please be careful, the text read. Uncle Frank (your dad) called the entire extended family last night. He’s telling everyone you lost your mind, attacked Bryce at the cabin, and cancelled his medical insurance out of spite. He’s trying to organize a family intervention at your office on Monday.
I stared at the screen, my eyes narrowing.
A family intervention at my office. They actually thought they could intimidate me in front of my employees and corporate clients. They believed that if they made enough noise and threatened my professional reputation, I would cave in, pay off their debts, and drop the charges against Bryce just to keep the peace.
They truly didn't understand that the woman who used to bend over backward to earn her father's approval had died on that icy porch the moment my daughter hit the ground.
I typed back to Sarah: Let them try.
I walked over to Peyton’s bedside and gently brushed a lock of hair from her face. She opened her eyes, looking up at me with a soft, cautious smile.
"How’s the shoulder feeling, sweetheart?" I asked gently.
"It throbs a little," she admitted quietly. "But... it doesn't hurt as much as yesterday."
"Good," I said, kissing her cheek. "How would you like to order the biggest stack of chocolate chip pancakes on the room service menu?"
May you like
Her eyes lit up—a real, genuine sparkle that I hadn't seen since we arrived at that awful mountain cabin. "Can we really?"
"We can do whatever we want," I said, laying heavy emphasis on the phrase my father had used to justify his grandson's cruelty. "Because from now on, this family only lives by our rules."
