Chapter 22
That night, when Barny Carlisle returned home, he looked at me with terrifying malice.
I’d just stepped in after school, when a ceramic mug struck my forehead dead–on.
Shards scattered at my feet, pain exploded in my head.
Barny Carlisle slapped me hard, “Elizabeth Cala! I raised you, but only raised a monster!”
My mother heard the commotion and rushed downstairs, and Sarah Carlisle hurried over,
trying to restrain him.
He jabbed a finger at me, veins bulging, “You wish I were dead, don’t you! You can’t stand your sister’s presence! You want me dead so you can have everything How could I have such a creature for a daughter!”
He tried to hit me again.
I was too shocked to react. By the time I recovered and tried to explain, crying, pleading a
hundred times, he refused to listen.
From that day forward, the father–daughter bond we’d built over twenty–some years dropped to absolute zero.
This was also why later, when Tyler Horton shifted his affections and the Horton family neglected the wedding, Barny Carlisle never once stood up for me…
Now, looking at Barny Carlisle’s graying temples, I felt nothing at all.
I asked, “Weren’t you the one who said I was a monster trying to poison you?”
His stance of reproach deflated instantly.
“Elizabeth, I was just angry. I didn’t mean it that way.”
“You were right, though.” I smiled softly. “Back then, I hadn’t considered it. But now, I truly hope you die.”
Chapter 22
He never expected me to be so blunt. His face turned livid, “Elizabeth! I’m your father! How dare you speak like that!”
I locked eyes with him, “When you climbed into another woman’s bed, did you remember you had a wife and daughter?”
Barny Carlisle tried to justify himself shamelessly, “It was just a lapse! I was drunk! I made a mistake all men make!”
pat in his face, “You truly deserve to be in the same family as Sarah Carlisle and Tyler
Horton. Sarah’s your real daughter. My mother should never have brought a thankless
wretch like you under her roof.”
I turned and walked away. Furious, Barny Carlisle stomped his foot and
followed, “Elizabeth, let’s not talk about the past! We’re father and daughter. You must help
me!”
“I only listen to my mother.” I stood on the steps, staring down at him coldly. “Why don’t
you ask my mother instead? Beg her, see if she wants me to help you.”
“You-!” Barny Carlisle clenched his fist, eyes burning with murder.
I faced him without fear,“I’m telling you, I’m not afraid of you anymore. If you dare touch me, go ahead.”
With that, I turned and strode off, not once looking back.
After
hands.
my mother’s death, the Cala family’s business fell into Barny Carlisle’s mediocre
He invested recklessly and managed poorly, causing the once–prosperous enterprise to spiral downward.
With Tyler Horton’s support, he barely kept it afloat.
Now that Tyler Horton had fallen, Barny Carlisle stood alone, and his past ties with Horton
became a massive obstacle to securing funds.
Out of options, he was forced to sell his shares.
14:56
He Forgot it. He Regreted It
Chapter 22
It was then that I borrowed money from Jeff Vince.
Seizing the opportunity, I bought back the Cala family’s company at a bargain.
Drawing on the Vince family’s talent pool, I replaced the rotten management as if pouring fresh water into a stagnant pond. With proper funding and fresh leadership, the three generations of the Cala enterprise quickly regained their vitality.
Finally, I could stand before my mother’s grave with a clear conscience, Jeff by my side.
Gazing at the gentle smile in the photo on her tombstone, my nose prickled.
All the words I wanted to say drifted into the silent exchange between our worlds.
On our way back to the city, a black Mercedes suddenly appeared from behind on the mountain road. It tailgated, overtook us, then cut us off and slowed down repeatedly.
It was Tyler Horton’s car.
Since the confrontation at the Good Fortune Restaurant, neither Tyler Horton nor Sarah
Carlisle had reappeared.
According to Matt Horton, Tyler Horton spent a month in the hospital just to preserve his
manhood.
He couldn’t save his fortune, though. No longer the celebrated “Mr. Horton,” he was now
just a discarded scion with no prospects.
With expert skill, Jeff steered gracefully, dodging each malicious attempt by Tyler to force us off the narrow, rain–slicked mountain road.
I clutched my seatbelt and said, “Ignore him. If he wants to go mad, we won’t join him in a
funeral.”
Jeff gave me a gentle glance, “The most important person to me is right here. Why would I
bother with him?”
