Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Ellen’s POV

It’s been more than three hours since Liz’s detention. My father paced the room, his frustration palpable. He dialed one number after another, desperately trying to reach someone who could help clear Liz’s name.

“Yes, it’s a setup. Liz would not do that while she was in training except in self defense. Thank you.” Dad ended the call.

“Dad, why bother denying it?” I interjected, unable to contain my own frustration. “It’s so obvious that Liz did it. No one would ever believe us.”

My father’s expression hardened, his jaw set with determination. “You deny till the end.” He replied firmly, his voice unwavering. “Deny even when the sword is to your neck. Deny even when you’re about to die. Deny.”

I clenched my fists in frustration, feeling a surge of anger and helplessness wash over me. “Damn it.” I cursed under my breath, realizing the gravity of our situation. Denial seemed futile in the face of overwhelming evidence, but my father’s words resonated with a stubborn resolve that refused to yield.

I noticed as my father’s gaze shifted from me to my brother, then to my mother, a heavy silence settled over the room. His expression was troubled, his brow furrowed with deep concern.

“I think someone is out for us.” He finally spoke, his voice heavy with suspicion. “Who tipped off the prosecutors and bloggers about this information? How did the media get footage of something that happened in this damn house? And it definitely cannot be Kamille because she’s dead!”

My mind raced, trying to piece together the puzzle of events that had unfolded so suddenly and mercilessly. Dad was right. Someone was definitely fighting that bitch’s battle.

“So even in death, that low life is still a nuisance!” I exclaimed, unable to contain the bitterness and frustration that boiled within me. “Why can’t she die and just rest in fucking peace?”

My father’s stern voice cut through the tension in the room, his words laced with concern and warning. “Ellen, Gabriel, while we try to sort out Liz’s issue, both of you better be careful. I don’t want a single issue like this happening again.”

I nodded solemnly, understanding the gravity of his words. The events of the past few hours had shaken us to our core, and the last thing any of us wanted was to find ourselves embroiled in another crisis.

But Gabriel’s retort pierced through the air, his tone tinged with sarcasm. “I have no issues, Dad, but your daughter here is always on a power trip. She’s always harassing her workers. So she might be the one you want to hold out just in case.”

Why was I cursed with an annoying demon for a brother? Why?

My jaw clenched in frustration at Gabriel’s accusation, his words stinging with a bitter truth. I shot him a withering glare, but before I could retort, my father intervened.

“That’s enough.” He said firmly, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re all in this together, and pointing fingers won’t solve anything. We need to focus on supporting Liz and finding out who’s behind this before it’s too late.”

Gabriel’s casual dismissal of the situation grated on my nerves, and I couldn’t help but feel a surge of frustration bubbling within me. “I was just saying though.” He added, his tone nonchalant.

I gritted my teeth, struggling to contain my anger at his cavalier attitude. “You’re a fool, Gabriel.” I retorted, unable to hold back the venom in my voice. “How can you actually eat and sleep in this situation? How comfortable does that make you?”

My voice trembled with frustration, the weight of my emotions threatening to overwhelm me. How could he be so cavalier, so oblivious to the turmoil tearing our family apart? Didn’t he realize that Liz’s future hung in the balance, that our family was facing one of the most challenging moments of our lives?

But even as I spoke, Gabriel’s expression remained impassive, his indifference like a slap in the face. With a dismissive wave of his hand, he brushed off my words as if they were inconsequential.

“I’ll have my dinner in my room.” He said to the housekeeper and walked away.

I seethed with anger, my fists clenched at my sides as I struggled to contain the storm raging within me. How could he be so callous, so uncaring? Didn’t he understand the gravity of what was happening, the danger that lurked just beyond our doorstep?

But before I could unleash the full force of my fury, my father intervened, his voice firm and commanding. “That’s enough,” he said, his tone brooking no argument. “We’re all in this together, and pointing fingers won’t solve anything.”

I bit back the retort that threatened to spill from my lips, swallowing my anger in the face of my father’s stern rebuke. But deep down, the resentment still simmered, festering like a wound that refused to heal.

As Gabriel disappeared from sight, a sense of helplessness washed over me, the weight of our situation pressing down like a leaden weight. How could we ever hope to overcome the challenges that lay ahead if we couldn’t even stand united as a family?

“But dad..” I began to plead my course but a thunderous roar from my dad cut me off.

“That is enough Ellen! To your room now!”

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Frustration boiled within me like a tempest ready to erupt as I left the stifling atmosphere of the living room.

As I arrived at my room, with a forceful push, I slammed the door shut behind me, the sound echoing through the room like a thunderclap. The resounding thud served as a release for the pent-up tension coursing through my veins, but it did little to ease the storm raging within.

That’s it!

I had to do something as soon as possible. I reached for my phone, my fingers trembling with urgency as I dialed Mr. Finley’s number. After several rings, he finally picked up, his voice crisp and professional.

“Mr. Finley, it’s Ellen.” I said, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “Do you have any updates on the search for those kids?”

There was a brief pause on the other end of the line before Mr. Finley responded. “Yes Miss Ellen, the investigation is still ongoing, but we’ve made some progress. It seems the children were born in the US, not in London as we initially thought.”

My heart leaped at the news, a glimmer of hope flickering to life within me. “That’s something at least.” I replied, relief evident in my voice. “But do we know who their parents are? What their birth names are?”

Mr. Finley hesitated before responding. “Not yet.” He admitted. “But we’re working on it. We’re tracing their identities and trying to determine who their parents are. It’s just going to take some time.”

I bit my lip, the frustration of waiting gnawing at my insides. Time was of the essence, and every moment that passed brought us closer to the brink of disaster.

“Mr. Finley, we can’t afford to wait.” I said, urgency creeping into my voice. “Hasten the investigation, pay the fucking investigators whatever they want. We need answers, and we need them now!”

“Right away Miss.” Mr Finley replied before I hung up. He was my Father’s right hand man and most trusted assistant. So I chose to trust in his capabilities.

As I sat in my room, a gentle knock on the door pulled me from my thoughts. My father’s voice filtered through the wood. “Hello Ellen, are you there?” He asked, his tone laced with concern.

I rose from my bed and approached the door. “Yes, Dad, I’m here.” I replied, my voice tinged with weariness.

He entered the room, his expression grave yet determined. “Ellen, the only person who can help our family out of this mess now is Ezekiel Reid.” He said, his words heavy with significance. “His influence is enough to turn the situation around and make it seem like we never did a thing.”

I nodded in agreement, knowing full well the power that Zeke wielded in our world. “Of course, Dad. I know that.” I replied, my voice steady despite the turmoil swirling within me.

His gaze bore into mine, searching for reassurance. “So what are you doing about it? Any updates on the kids’ case?”

I took a deep breath, gathering my thoughts before responding. “Yes, Dad.” I replied. “The children were born in the US, but they’re tracing them currently. They’ll soon find out who the parents are and the names of the kids.”

A sense of relief washed over my father’s features, his shoulders sagging with the weight of tension released. “That’s good to hear.” He said, a hint of gratitude coloring his voice. “Keep me updated on any developments.”

Turning to leave, father’s gaze fell and lingered on the family portrait hanging on the wall close to my bed. A sudden sense of unease settled over the room like a heavy fog. I watched him in silence, the tension palpable in the air.

“Are you alright, Dad?” I ventured, breaking the silence that had descended between us.

He turned to look at me, his expression unreadable. “Yeah, I’m fine.” He replied, his voice tinged with a hint of resignation.

I followed his gaze to the portrait on the wall, where my grandmother, Monica Manor, smiled down at us from behind the glass. “She was a great woman, wasn’t she?” I commented, trying to lighten the mood.

The mood got a whole lot worse.

My father scoffed bitterly, his eyes darkening with memories long buried. “A great matron, yeah.” He muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. “But a terrible mom. At least to me.”

My brows furrowed in confusion, unable to comprehend the depth of his emotions. “What do you mean, Dad?” I asked, my voice barely above a whisper.

He turned to look at me briefly before returning his gaze to the portrait. “It all started when she preferred my elder sister over me. Your aunt, Fiona Manor.” He confessed, his voice heavy with regret. “She made choices that turned me into the beast that I am today and till today, I have no remorse or whatever towards her demise.”

Shock reverberated through me like a bolt of lightning, the revelation sending a shiver down my spine. Was it possible that Grandma Monica was not the all-perfect, loving, and caring grandma I had always known? And what has aunt Fiona got to do with anything? We barely even knew her before she died.

What in the freaking hell is going on?