Chapter 38: The First Crack

The car rolled through the iron gates of Hawthorne Mansion in silence. No one spoke. No one dared to. The air inside the vehicle was thick, suffocating, as though the weight of the entire world had settled on their shoulders. Even the hum of the engine sounded muted, swallowed by the tension that clung to every breath.

When the car stopped, the servants waiting at the entrance lowered their heads. None of them greeted the family. None of them moved. They could feel it—the storm that had followed the Hawthornes home.

Missy, who had fainted so dramatically at the auditorium, stepped out of the car with perfect balance. Her face was pale, but her steps were steady. Emily followed close behind, her hand hovering protectively near her daughter’s arm.

Raymond walked last. His movements were slow, deliberate. He didn’t look at anyone. He didn’t need to. The silence that followed him was louder than any accusation.

Inside the mansion, the air was colder than usual. The grand chandelier glimmered above them, its light sharp and unforgiving. Raymond removed his suit jacket and tossed it onto the sofa. The sound of fabric hitting leather echoed through the room like a gunshot.

He stood there for a long moment, his back to them, his shoulders rigid.

Emily forced a smile, her voice trembling. "Raymond—"

The sound of the slap cut her off.

It was sharp, brutal, final.

Emily staggered backward, clutching her cheek. Her eyes widened in disbelief. Missy froze mid-step. Drake and Jagger stood motionless. Even the servants outside the door flinched.

No one had ever seen Raymond Hawthorne raise his hand against Emily. Not once.

Raymond’s chest rose and fell violently. His voice, when it came, was low and terrifyingly calm. "How dare you," he said, each word measured, deliberate. "How dare you steal Maria’s designs?"

Emily’s tears spilled instantly. "Raymond, listen to me, I only—"

"I asked you a question." His tone was ice. "How dare you?"

For the first time in her life, Emily felt fear.

Raymond’s eyes were not the eyes of the man she had married. They were the eyes of a man who had just watched the last remnants of his faith crumble.

He had loved Maria. Truly, deeply, completely. She had been the light that guided him through every storm. When she died, that light went out.

The accident had been sudden—one phone call, one moment, and everything was gone. There had been no goodbye, no last words, no chance to tell her how much he loved her. One moment she was alive, laughing about dinner plans, and the next, she was gone.

He had never recovered from that silence.

He had spent years trying to rebuild something that resembled a family, something that could fill the void she left behind. He thought Emily had helped him do that. He thought Missy’s laughter had brought warmth back into the house. He thought Mindy’s silence was just grief.

He had been wrong about everything.

The memory of Maria’s studio flashed before his eyes—the soft hum of her voice as she worked, the faint scent of jasmine that always lingered in the air, the way she would look up from her sketches and smile at him as though he were the only man in the world.

And now, that sacred space had been violated.

Her art stolen.

Her legacy desecrated.

By the woman who had promised to love him.

By the daughter he had allowed to replace the one he had forgotten.

Raymond’s hands trembled. He clenched them into fists to stop the shaking.

Emily’s sobs filled the silence. "I only did it for you!" she cried. "I did it for our family! For Rona Design!"

She reached for his sleeve, desperate. "You know Missy was having such a hard time after coming into this family. Mindy bullied her every day. Rona Design was losing money. Maria built that company with her entire life. I couldn’t just watch it collapse! So I used some of Maria’s unused designs. I only wanted to save the company. I only wanted to help you."

Her tears fell freely, her voice trembling with practiced sincerity.

It was the same performance that had fooled him for years.

Raymond closed his eyes. He knew she was manipulating him again. He could hear it in her tone, see it in the way her tears fell at the perfect moment. But part of her words were true. Rona Design had been struggling. He remembered the sleepless nights, the endless meetings, the fear of losing everything Maria had built.

He had wanted to protect it. To protect them.

He had wanted peace.

He had wanted a family.

He rubbed his temples, the weight of years pressing down on him. His anger eased, but only slightly.

Then he turned toward Missy.

His expression hardened. "And you?"

Missy stepped back instinctively. "D-Dad..."

"Why did you steal Mindy’s design?"

Missy’s eyes filled with tears. "I didn’t mean to! I only wanted inspiration! I really only wanted to help Rona Design! I swear!"

Raymond’s voice cut through her excuses. "Then why didn’t you say anything six months ago?"

The room fell silent.

Missy lowered her head. "I... I wasn’t sure. I thought she stole it from someone else."

Drake frowned. Even he couldn’t defend that.

Raymond’s patience snapped.

"You thought?" His voice rose, sharp and raw. "You THOUGHT? Then when Mindy said it was hers, when I slapped her, when everyone accused her, when she stood there alone—why didn’t you speak then?"

Missy’s lips trembled. No words came out.

Her tears fell faster, her voice breaking. "I didn’t mean to hurt her," she whispered. "I just wanted to help. I thought she’d forgive me once she knew I didn’t mean it."

Her voice was soft, fragile, perfectly measured.

Raymond’s anger faltered. He looked at her—his daughter, trembling, crying, looking so much like the child he had once carried on his shoulders.

He wanted to believe her.

He wanted to believe that she was just misguided, not malicious.

He wanted to believe that his family wasn’t broken beyond repair.

Emily stepped forward, her tone sharp. "Enough! She already apologized! Her reputation is already destroyed! Cut her some slack!"

Raymond looked at them both for a long moment. The disappointment in his eyes was worse than any anger.

He turned away. He couldn’t look at them anymore.

He had slapped his own daughter for a lie.

He had believed strangers over his own blood.

He had failed Maria.

He had failed Mindy.

He had failed himself.

He drew a slow breath, forcing his voice to steady. "Hawthorne Group’s shares will take a hit tomorrow," he said to Drake. "We’ll need damage control. Prepare the PR department."

Drake nodded immediately. "Yes, Father."

Raymond turned to Missy. "You. Post a public apology. To the competition. To Maria Wilson. And to Mindy."

Missy’s face went pale. "Dad, I—"

"Do it."

The word wasn’t loud, but it carried the weight of command.

Missy bit her lip. "...Yes."

Raymond grabbed his coat. "I’m going to the company."

He didn’t look back.

Drake followed him silently. Jagger lingered for a moment, his gaze flicking between Emily and Missy. Then he sighed and left without a word.

When the door closed, the mansion fell into silence again.

Missy’s composure shattered. "Mom!" she screamed. "That bitch ruined everything! My reputation, my competition, my trophy—I lost everything!"

Emily pulled her into her arms, stroking her hair. "No," she whispered. "You haven’t. We’ll fix this. We always do."

Missy sniffled, her voice small. "What do we do?"

Emily’s eyes narrowed. "First, we regain public sympathy. You’ll apologize. But we’ll control the narrative."

Missy’s tears slowed. "You mean..."

Emily smiled faintly. "You’ll apologize for the mistake—but remind everyone you only wanted to help the company. People forgive good intentions."

Missy nodded slowly, hope flickering in her eyes.