Father's Fury

Selena's POV

"Mr. Cross." I stood before him again. This time, the air between us no longer held only tense probing.

"Miss Windsor." He looked up at me. In those deep gray eyes, the scrutinizing look faded. If I wasn't mistaken, there was even a trace of faint approval. "An impressive speech."

His praise, like the man himself, was calm, restrained, without any excess emotion. But I could tell it was genuine.

"Just impressive?" I tilted my head slightly, a sly smile playing at the corner of my lips. "I thought at the very least, counselor, you'd call it perfect."

"You're very different from the rumors." He didn't answer my question. His gray eyes stared at me without courtesy.

"Rumors?" I blinked with feigned curiosity. "What do the rumors say? Willful, stupid, hopeless, spending every day chasing after Kane?"

I spoke those words that once wounded me with a light, casual air.

Damian remained silent, neither confirming nor denying.

But he quickly changed the subject, lifting the champagne glass I had switched for him. "This drink—after the gala ends, I'll have it sent to a designated lab for component analysis. The original will be sealed as primary evidence."

He had responded to my plea for help, which put me at ease.

"What about that speech draft?" he asked proactively, his gray eyes gleaming with rationality. "You said there was a problem with it."

"That's right, a big problem. I'll get you the complete document." I was pleased by his question—it meant he was becoming more firmly in my camp.

"So, I need a way to contact my 'evidence custodian' at any time." I quickly swiped through my phone, stopping at the add contact screen. "Your private number, Mr. Cross. I imagine we'll have many 'legal matters' in the future that will require communication beyond business hours."

"Miss Windsor," he said in a low voice, "do you know what you're doing?"

"Of course I do." I looked directly into his deep eyes, not retreating an inch. "I'm choosing the most important partner for my life."

In the end, he recited a string of numbers. I quickly dialed, and his phone vibrated in his pocket.

"There," I hung up and waved my phone, "now you're bound to me, my chief defense attorney."

"The Windsor family," he corrected coldly.

"No," I shook my head, speaking each word clearly and firmly, "it's you, and me."

As the words fell, I actually saw a trace of helplessness on Damian's icy face. He seemed about to say something when a saccharine voice wrapped around us like a vine.

"Selena, there you are." It was Lillian, her eyes slightly red, looking pitiful and delicate. Vera, arm in arm with her, wore that perfect maternal smile.

"Darling, your speech just now was wonderful." Vera tried to take my hand affectionately. "It's just... how could you publicly say there was a problem with that draft? That was my—"

I took the initiative to step forward and grasp her hand, putting on an expression even more innocent than Lillian's, ready to deliver the explanation I'd prepared long ago and redirect blame toward some unfortunate "speechwriter."

Just then, a commanding and icy voice came from behind us.

"Selena, come with me!"

It was my father, Richard Windsor.

His face was ashen, his gaze sharp as a blade, completely devoid of the momentary shock and emotion from earlier when he was in the audience. All that remained was undisguised fury. Vera immediately leaned toward him like she'd found her anchor, looking aggrieved.

"Richard, don't blame Selena, she's still just a child..."

"Shut up!" Father cut her off roughly, then grabbed my wrist with alarming force, almost crushing my bones.

"Do you know what you're doing tonight?! Publicly refuting the speech draft—how do you want the entire New York media to write about the Windsor family? Infighting? Stepmother mistreatment? Aren't there enough jokes about our family already?!" He lowered his voice, but his tone was vicious.

Each of his words was like a slap, striking my face hard.

I looked at his face twisted with anger. In my past life, he had also raged like this, refusing to hear any explanation from me, condemning me as fallen based solely on baseless evidence and a few tears from Vera and Lillian, ruthlessly sending me to hell.

What did more than a decade of father-daughter bond mean in his eyes? Oh no, or rather, he never had any father-daughter bond with me at all.

"Let go of me!" Tears began to well up in my eyes.

"You dare talk back?!" He was beside himself with rage and raised his hand.

Everyone gasped. A flash of gleeful satisfaction passed through Lillian's eyes.

However, the anticipated slap never fell.

A hand steadily intercepted Father's wrist.

It was Damian.

At some point, he had positioned himself between Father and me, his tall figure forming an impenetrable barrier.

"Chairman, the guests haven't left yet, and the media is still here. Are you sure you want to handle family matters here?"

He didn't use much force, but Richard couldn't break free no matter what.

"Cross! This is my family business, it's not your place to interfere!"

"My duty is to prevent any negative press for Windsor Corporation." Damian released his hand but still stood in front of me, not yielding an inch. "Any impulsive action you take tonight could become tomorrow's headline in every major newspaper. I believe you understand better than I do what that would do to the company's stock price."

Business, stock price, corporate interests... these words were like a bucket of cold water, instantly extinguishing most of Richard's fury. He panted heavily, glaring at me viciously, then glanced at the guests around us who were pretending to be unconcerned but were actually listening intently. Finally, he reluctantly lowered his hand.

"When the gala ends, come to my study!" He threw these words at me, then walked away with Vera, who was still fake-crying, without looking back.

They walked away. They were the real family of three. And I was like a superfluous outsider.

I stood there, the red marks Father left on my wrist still burning with pain. But this pain was nothing compared to the cold desolation at the bottom of my heart.

I thought I no longer cared, but experiencing this ruthlessness again firsthand, my heart still ached like it was being pricked by needles.

I lowered my head, not wanting anyone to see my vulnerability at this moment.

Suddenly, a suit jacket carrying a faint scent of fir was gently draped over my shoulders, blocking the probing gazes around me and bringing a bit of warmth.

I looked up in surprise, meeting Damian's deep eyes.

He said nothing, just looked at me quietly with those gray eyes. From the bottom of that icy lake, I saw traces of gentle warmth.

A father I'd lived with for over a decade was utterly ruthless toward me.

A lawyer who was practically a stranger gave me the protection I needed most when I was at my most wretched.

This stark contrast was like a sharp blade, piercing through the hard shell I'd been forcing myself to maintain.

My eyes burned, and tears nearly welled up. I abruptly turned my head away, blinking hard to push back the stinging sensation.

"Thank you." I said in a low voice, with a barely perceptible hoarseness.

I couldn't cry. Selena Windsor's tears were precious.

At that moment, I didn't notice the footsteps gradually approaching from behind.