Chasing

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

LESLIE’S POV

The concept of home for me has repeatedly changed in the last three years and also in the past one week. As of now, home is the suburban mansion whose garage Travis is currently pulling into. He parks his car amidst the many other sleek cars that scream luxury and wealth. Even though I tell him that he doesn’t have to, Travis offers to walk me to the door, insisting on making sure he sees the front door of the house close with me inside of it.

I already owe him a lot but it feels illegal to turn down such a kind act from someone, especially when I have never been treated with so much gentleness and care by anyone other than my grandmother. And so I let him walk me to the door.

The door opens just as we get to a close distance. I hesitate, stopping on my tracks when my eyes catch the one who had opened the door. My heart beats frantically, the kind of reaction I get every time I see that man. He sights us and his face brightens like he’s been expecting us. Travis must have noticed how -pale I have gotten because I feel his arm on the small of my back in silent encouragement.

1 shake the feeling off and let Travis continue to lead me to the front door. The old man–my father–rolls towards us on his wheelchair as we get even closer. I brace myself, making sure to avoid eye contact so I don’t fall for that well rehearsed look of regret and pain from someone who abandoned me before I was even old enough to recognize him as my father. 0

“You’re back early, I wasn’t expecting you to be back unti- My father starts to say but I raise my voice above his, cutting him off with my own words that are directed at Travis.

“Thank you for bringing me home, Travis,” The words are accompanied by a stiff smile that seems to throw Travis off for a few seconds as he looks from me to the man whose existence I just blatantly ignored but Travis nods anyway. NôvelDrama.Org owns this.

Without another word I leave them both and make my way into the house, heading straight for my room in the mansion. Yes, MY room. I moved in here two days after I discovered the life altering truth about my past, the truth that I am not an ordinary woman with an ordinary life like I had grown to believe. I am the only daughter of Carter Hanson and the heiress of his renowned conglomerate, The Hanson Group.

Moving in with him took a lot of thinking. At first, I dumped the black card he gave me into the trash, hating how it felt like he was buying his forgiveness with money. It made me detest him even more. I wanted to pack my things from Travis‘ home and move far away with the money I saved up from working with Kian all these years. That was until Travis intervened. He did not invalidate my feelings, rather he told me that I had every right to feel the way I felt but I also deserved to be happy. I deserved everything to make up for growing up without anything. I took his words to heart and here I am, under the same roof as my father even when I can’t look him in the eyes.

The thought of my newly found life clouds my mind as open the door to my room.

“Leslie.” My father’s voice stops me before I can enter my room.

sigh, realizing that I can’t avoid him now like I have been doing ever since I moved in here. He’s right behind me when I turn and this time, I can’t avoid looking into his eyes.

“Are you okay? Travis told me what happened.” He says, his concern clear in his voice and In the way his forehead crinkles. Travis must have told him that I ran into Klan.

“It’s nothing.” I respond, voice steely as I refuse to let his concerned expression make me waver. “Are you sure? Leslie, if you need help getting that boy off your back, you can ask and I will make sure he never bothers you again.” His expression turns serious. As much as his offer seems enticing, I do not need his help to handle the situation with Kian. I may have accepted this life but I am yet to accept him as my father and seeing him act like he cares after abandoning my mother and I only fuels the flame of anger that Kian started tonight.

“I don’t need your help,” I say coldly and watch as he shrinks into his wheelchair, “I can handle it myself.”