Chapter 99
Rebecca’s POV
Dad’s arms wrapped around me, his grip stronger than I expected. “Having you as a daughter is my greatest joy,” he whispered against my hair. “Seeing you is always the highlight of my day.”
I blinked back the sudden moisture in my eyes, feeling a pang of guilt for not visiting more often.
“Come, let’s all sit down,” Mom said, having already arranged the flowers in a vase. “I made all your favorites for
lunch.”
The table was set with dishes I’d loved since childhood: mushroom cream pasta, tomato basil salad, and Mom’s special lemon cake. The familiar aromas triggered a flood of memories that momentarily eased the tension in my shoulders.
“Always such a production when Rebecca comes home,” Jason muttered as he dragged himself to the table. He slumped into his chair, eyeing the spread with apparent boredom. “She’s not royalty or anything.”
My fingers froze around my water glass. The glass surface turned slippery with condensation–or maybe it was the sudden cold sweat on my palms. I set it down carefully, counting to three in my head.
“Thanks, Mom,” I said, my voice tight but controlled. “These are all my favorites. Let me help you serve.”
As we gathered around the table, I focused on Dad’s questions about my work, giving a simplified version of my responsibilities at Sterling Group. I carefully measured each word, omitting the complexities of my relationship with Dominic, the feel of his hands on my skin, the way his eyes changed color when he was protective or aroused.
“How’s that art course going?” Dad asked, remembering my mention of starting design classes.
The topic shift loosened something in my chest. “It’s great,” I replied, feeling a genuine smile form. “The first day was a bit awkward, but I love the environment there.”
‘Rebecca always had artistic talent,” Mom said proudly. “Remember those drawings she did as a child? Her teachers always said she had a gift.”
“Yeah, so gifted she ended up as a secretary,” Jason mumbled through a mouthful of food, not bothering to look up from his plate,
My fingers tightened around my fork. A dull ache formed behind my eyes as I continued to ignore him, focusing instead on my parents.
Halfway through lunch, Mom suddenly set down her utensils, her expression turning apologetic. “About going to your workplace the other day… I want to apologize. We didn’t think things through.”
I nodded stiffly, accepting her apology even as the memory of that mortifying encounter surfaced–being cornered by
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A
Mom and Jason in the company lobby, colleagues staring, the shame burning through me like acid. “It’s okay. I understand you were worried about Dad.”
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Mom’s expression lightened. “But things are much better now! Your father’s condition is stable, and the doctor says. with continued treatment, he might see significant improvement. And,” she glanced at Jason, her tone brightening, “Jason has found a new job!”
I looked up in surprise, a forkful of pasta suspended halfway to my mouth. “Jason found a job? What kind of job?” I turned to my brother, who avoided my gaze, suddenly very interested in rearranging the food on his plate.
“You should thank your boss,” Mom said proudly. “He arranged for Jason to work as a receptionist at the Hilton Hotel. The salary is decent, and it includes health benefits!”
The fork slipped from my fingers, clattering against the plate. My stomach dropped as if I’d missed a step on a staircase. “What?” The word came out strangled.
“Yes, Mr. Dominic Sterling,” Mom continued, seemingly oblivious to my shock. “He’s been so generous.”
I turned to Jason, pulse pounding in my ears. “When did you meet my boss? I had no idea about any of this.” My voice had risen slightly, each word clipped and sharp.
“Receptionist!” Jason interjected with disgust, finally looking up. His eyes were hard, lips curled in disdain. “It’s insulting. The pay barely covers a decent pair of shoes. Your precious boss thinks that’s all I’m worth.”
“After that day,” Mom explained, twisting her napkin between her fingers, “Jason went back to your company, wanting to talk to you… but you weren’t there, so he met with that… Blackwood gentleman instead.”
My face grew cold, blood draining downward. “Marcus? And then what?” My words were barely audible over the
rushing sound in my ears.
“He said it was Mr. Sterling’s instruction–not only arranging work for Jason but also giving us some money to help with family expenses.” Mom’s voice grew quieter. “He suggested we not go to your workplace again… to avoid embarrassing you.”
Dad frowned, his fork hitting the plate with a sharp clink. “You accepted charity from strangers without telling me?” His voice held a rare edge of anger.
My hands trembled visibly now. “How could you all do this… completely behind my back?” Shame and anger twisted together in my gut, making it difficult to breathe. “Jason, what right did you have to go to my workplace?”
Dad turned a stern gaze toward Mom and Jason. “You made these decisions without consulting me? I’m still the head of this family!”
Jason shrugged with exaggerated indifference. “What’s the big deal? Just leveraging Rebecca’s ‘special relationship‘ with her boss.” His eyes narrowed as they fixed on me. “Everyone can see how she suddenly went from jewelry store
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clerk to executive assistant. It’s obviously not just because of her work skills.“”
Blood rushed to my face as I shot to my feet, chair scraping loudly against the floor. “Enough!” My voice shook, louder than I’d intended. “My relationship with Dominic is professional, and you exploit that to beg for handouts? And you’re insinuating I got my job through improper means?”
“Rebecca, calm down,” Mom tried to soothe, her eyes darting nervously between us. “Jason didn’t mean it that way…”
“Yes, he did,” I said through gritted teeth. My chest heaved with each breath. “And you went behind my back to accept money and a job from Dominic without even telling me? Do you have any idea how this makes me look?”
I moved to the entryway, grabbing my purse with trembling hands. “Jason, if you ever pull something like this again, I’ll cut ties with you completely.” My voice cracked on the last word.
Mom followed, reaching for my arm. “Rebecca, don’t be like this. We’re family…”
“I need time to clear my head,” I was already at the door, tears burning behind my eyes. My throat felt raw. “And you should know that accepting charity sometimes comes with strings attached.”
“Let her go,” Dad said quietly. “She has every right to be upset.”
I looked back one last time, meeting Dad’s understanding gaze. “I’ll still send money each week, but please respect my work and my life.”
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