Chapter 3
“Last night…” Selene began, but Joycelyn quickly stepped forward, cutting her off with a smooth, composed nod toward Ellison.
“Thank you for finding my phone, Mr. Grant,” she interjected smoothly. “Those documents in my phone are irreplaceable. I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”
Her matter-of-fact tone and sincere gratitude over a lost phone left Selene speechless, her words dying in her throat as she stared in confusion.
“It was just a small matter,” Ellison murmured, his gaze flickering briefly to Joycelyn before he turned his attention to the rest of the room.
“We shouldn’t keep you from your meal,” Joycelyn continued, her smile forced but polite. “Please, go ahead, Mr. Grant.” She tugged Selene aside, her eyes locking with Ellison’s in silent plea for discretion.
After several long moments of intense eye contact, he finally nodded slightly and moved toward the dining table without another word.
Only when his group had passed did Joycelyn exhale, her body damp with nervous sweat from those few tense moments.
Selene had intended to gossip, but she was entirely captivated by Ellison’s charm. “God, he’s even more stunning up close,” she sighed, watching him walk away. “Any woman who lands him must’ve been born under a lucky star.”
A genuine laugh escaped Joycelyn as she shook her head. “If your parents knew what was going on in your head, they’d probably blow a gasket.”
“Whatever,” Selene rolled her eyes. “Let’s eat. I need to get home to my man.”
Relief washed over Joycelyn as her food-loving friend got distracted by the arriving dishes, dropping all questions about the previous night.
The retreat ended after lunch. While the executives took their luxury cars, the staff boarded the company bus. From her window seat, Joycelyn’s thoughts drifted, but Selene’s squeal snapped her attention back to reality.
“Look! Mr. Grant’s Rolls-Royce is incredible.” Selene pressed her face to the glass. “Why couldn’t I be so lucky? I wouldn’t mind snagging a guy that hot and rich!”
Joycelyn studied the million-dollar vehicle, feeling the stark divide between their worlds.
Her phone buzzed insistently with messages from her mother. Before the retreat, her family had tried to set her up with a short, older man offering a hundred-thousand-dollar engagement gift.
She had refused, hoping it would blow over like all the previous matchmaking attempts. Instead, the pressure to marry had only intensified.
To delay the inevitable confrontation, Joycelyn had haunted the library until well past 10 PM before finally heading home.
Taking a steadying breath outside her door, she turned the key. The scene inside stopped her cold—her belongings were scattered across the floor, and her mother, Iris Mercer, was weeping on the couch.
“Who threw my things?” Joycelyn’s fists clenched at her sides.
“Look who finally graced us with her presence,” her stepsister Olivia Mercer drawled, not bothering to look up from her game.
Before Joycelyn could respond, her stepfather, Phineas Mercer, threw his cigarette onto the balcony and stormed inside, his palm connecting with her face in a sharp slap.
“We raised you, and this is how you repay us?” he roared. “We found you a good match with a generous offer, and you stood him up. Where were you? Out whoring around until this hour?”
Only her mother’s intervention prevented a second blow. The slap left Joycelyn’s cheek stinging, her eyes wide with disbelief.
For years, she had endured their abuse and insults, giving up most of her salary to support them while surviving on a few hundred dollars a month. Her dutiful sacrifice had earned her nothing but an attempt to sell her off like cattle.
Something inside her snapped. With all her strength, she swung her bag at Phineas’s face. “How dare you hit me! Not even my real parents ever raised a hand to me!”
“Your father’s dead!” Phineas stumbled back, spitting the words. “I’m your father now. If I hadn’t pitied you and your mother, I wouldn’t have taken in such worthless burdens.”
“You dare?” Ice crystallized in Joycelyn’s voice as she stood tall, unflinching. “I worked my way through college with loans and part-time jobs. My mother works herself to exhaustion supporting you. Who’s the real burden here?”
Her entire frame vibrated with rage. “You manipulated my mother into signing over my father’s house. You’d be on the street without us!”
The fury in her eyes promised retribution for every moment of suffering he’d caused.
