Free Web NovelChapter 59: Chapter 59: Audacity
Chapter 59: Audacity
—ARIA—
"I only wish to leave this wretched household."
Father leaned back slowly against his chair, one hand pressing hard against his temple while deep thought settled visibly across his expression.
The composure he usually maintained so effortlessly had cracked several times already during this conversation, and somehow seeing that only made the atmosphere feel heavier.
Meanwhile, Cynthia remained seated quietly nearby with her hands clasped tightly together on her lap. Her gaze lowered briefly before lifting toward me again uncertainly, as though she were debating whether to speak.
She finally inhaled softly.
"Lady Aria, I–"
But I immediately raised a hand.
"No," I interrupted calmly.
Both of them looked toward me.
Because frankly speaking?
I was not done yet.
I slowly turned back toward father fully this time, forcing my voice to remain composed despite the growing frustration simmering underneath it.
"I want you to consider my offer carefully," I said evenly. "Because I am being remarkably generous right now."
Father’s brows furrowed immediately.
"Generous?"
"Yes," I answered without hesitation. "I am offering you the opportunity to preserve this family’s dignity quietly."
The temperature inside the room somehow dropped further.
I folded my hands neatly in front of me before continuing.
"Either you cast me aside discreetly and allow me to leave this estate peacefully..."
I paused deliberately.
"...or I personally inform the entire empire myself."
Silence crashed into the room afterward.
Honestly, if dramatic pauses were currency, I would already own property across three kingdoms.
Father’s expression darkened immediately.
"Aria."
"No, father," I interrupted calmly again. "Let us stop pretending this situation can remain hidden forever."
I gestured lightly toward Cynthia without even looking at her directly.
"She is your daughter. Your blood. Your responsibility. Whether society approves or not changes nothing."
Cynthia visibly stiffened slightly at my words.
"And eventually," I continued more coldly, "someone will talk."
Because nobles always talked.
Well, aristocrats survived entirely on gossip, emotional repression, and expensive tea.
"This matter will not disappear simply because everyone avoids discussing it politely over dinner."
Father’s jaw tightened hard enough that I genuinely worried for his teeth.
"You are speaking recklessly."
"No," I replied immediately. "I am speaking realistically."
I slowly exhaled afterward before turning away from the desk completely. My heels clicked softly against the marble floor as I walked toward the door, though I stopped before reaching it.
Because now came the important part.
The negotiation.
Or more specifically...
My startup funding.
I turned slightly over my shoulder afterward.
"I will give you one week," I said calmly.
I heard father instantly straighten faintly in his chair.
"One week to send me away properly."
The room fell quiet again.
Then I added slowly,
"And I do mean properly."
This time, the meaning behind my words was impossible to miss.
Father stared at me silently.
Meanwhile, inside my mind, I was already calculating numbers aggressively.
Land prices.
Fabric costs.
Tailors.
Workshop space.
Transportation fees.
Marketing expenses.
Embroidery materials.
Jewelry production.
Employee wages.
Goodness, being ambitious was financially horrifying.
Every time I thought about business ownership too deeply, I suddenly understood why rich people looked permanently stressed.
I slowly maintained my composed expression despite the violent budgeting session currently occurring inside my brain.
Because listen, if I was getting disowned anyway, I at least deserved compensation.
Preferably in gold.
Large amounts of gold.
Massive emotional damage reimbursement gold.
Father could afford it if he wills.
He owned enough wealth. freewebnσvel.cѳm
Meanwhile, I was over here planning to build an entire fashion revolution using discarded curtains and determination.
Life was unfair.
"I trust," I continued carefully, "that father understands the importance of ensuring his legitimate daughter leaves this household with enough support."
Father’s eyes narrowed faintly.
Ah.
Good.
He understood perfectly.
Noble language truly was fascinating.
Sometimes threats sounded more elegant when wrapped in formal vocabulary.
Cynthia looked between both of us uncertainly now, clearly realizing this conversation had somehow evolved into a negotiation disguised as family drama.
Father finally spoke after several long moments.
"And if I refuse?"
I almost smiled.
Slowly, I turned fully toward him again.
"If you refuse," I answered pleasantly, "then I suppose the capital will eventually hear a very tragic story involving a hidden daughter, inheritance complications, emotional neglect, and an extremely distressed noblewoman forced from her own household."
I paused thoughtfully.
"Oh."
Then added politely,
"The newspapers would adore it."
Cynthia inhaled sharply.
Father looked genuinely horrified which honestly felt validating.
Because for once, he finally seemed to understand that I was no longer the same obedient daughter quietly enduring everything around me while everyone else decided my future on my behalf.
No.
That girl already died weeks ago.
And unlike them, I remembered it.
"How audacious of you!" Cynthia suddenly snapped as she rose from her seat so quickly that her chair scraped harshly against the floor.
Her finger pointed directly toward me before she could stop herself.
For the first time since entering this study, her sweet and humble mask cracked completely.
There it was.
Finally.
The real Cynthia.
Not the trembling victim desperately seeking family.
Not the gentle younger sister searching for acceptance.
Just another ambitious woman panicking because her carefully arranged position was beginning to shake.
But the moment she realized what she had done, her entire expression shifted instantly.
Impressive recovery speed.
Her eyes immediately welled with tears as though someone backstage had screamed cue the tragedy.
"I..." Her voice trembled softly. "I only hoped we could live together as family..."
Ah yes.
There it was.
Act Two: The Suffering Orphan Monologue.
"I never wished for any of this," she continued tearfully while lowering her gaze. "I never wanted to hurt you, sister. After my mother died... I was alone. I felt alone for so many years."
Father’s expression softened immediately.
The man looked one emotional speech away from adopting another secret child directly off the streets.
Cynthia pressed trembling fingers against her chest dramatically.
"I only wanted a family," she whispered. "I only wished to belong somewhere."
I rolled my eyes so hard I nearly witnessed another dimension.
Unfortunately, she continued anyway.
"When father finally brought me here, I truly thought..." She paused shakily. "I thought perhaps I could finally stop living in fear."
The tears sliding down her cheeks looked perfectly timed.
Academy-level performance.
Father finally stood up from behind his desk and approached Cynthia carefully.
"Hush," he said quietly. "No one here is blaming you."
Excuse me?
I stared at him in disbelief.
Sir.
Respectfully.
You invited me into this room to announce your affair child and now suddenly I was somehow the villain for reacting badly?
The audacity truly ran genetically in this household.
Excuse myself. Ehem.
Cynthia lowered her eyes again while father rested a hand gently against her shoulder.
I folded my arms slowly before leaning lightly against the nearby chair.
"You know," I said calmly, "the truly fascinating part of all this is that both of you seem to believe I am angry solely because Cynthia exists."
Neither of them spoke. freeweɓnovel.cøm
I smiled faintly.
"That would actually be the simpler problem."
Father frowned immediately.
"Aria!"
"I have no intention to further extend this conversation. One week. No later than that. Good night."
And just like that, I turned and left the room.
