Alder at his office at The Smith Company
Alder sat behind his large mahogany desk, the morning sun slanting through the half-open blinds. He kept reviewing the file before him, brows furrowed, flipping each page slowly, but his mind wasn't fully on it.
The door creaked open. Leif walked in, a relaxed grin on his face.
"Hi bro," Leif said casually.
Alder glanced up, forcing a smile that didn't quite reach his tired eyes. "Good morning bro," he replied, setting the file aside.
Leif walked closer, a leather-bound folder in his hand. He leaned on the edge of the desk. "The file I told you to work on, are you done with it?" he asked, tilting his head.
"Yes," Alder replied curtly. He reached down, retrieved the file from a stack, and handed it over.
Leif opened it, flipping through the pages. He didn't lift his eyes. "How are you, Alder?" he asked, still scanning the documents.
"I'm fine," Alder replied with a nod, sitting straighter, his jaw tightening.
Leif paused, glanced up briefly. "Like, how are you feeling?" he asked gently, voice lower this time.
Alder exhaled sharply, drumming his fingers on the armrest. "Just ask whatever you want to ask," he said, his tone edged with irritation.
"Okay," Leif said, standing fully upright now, closing the file. "Are you giving up on Willow?"
Alder's eyes flickered, the question hitting a sore spot. He leaned back heavily in his chair, rubbing his temple. "Give up on her?" he repeated, voice raw. "She gave up on me a long time ago. I'm the only one fighting for the 'us,' which I don't even know exists in her dictionary," he said bitterly, letting himself sink deeper into the chair, staring at the ceiling for a moment.
Leif softened his tone. He leaned forward, resting his palms on the desk. "I understand you... but Willow seems to be hiding something. Don't you notice? Like she wants to be with you, but something is keeping her back."
Alder shrugged, a humorless chuckle escaping him. "I don't know about that. But one thing I know is that she's very heartless," he replied, voice dropping. "She doesn't just see a future with me." His gaze fell to the floor, shoulders slumping.
Leif sighed, placing the file back on the desk. "Don't rush things. Just talk to her," he advised softly,before turning to leave.
The door clicked shut.
Alder remained seated, unmoving. His face was etched with sadness as he stared at nothing in particular. His mind drifted, unbidden, back to Willow's words at Cloud Company just days ago:
"Some relationships don't necessarily need a happy ending. What matters is the time spent together."
His expression shifted, becoming unreadable. His thoughts spiraled into the unknown.
---
Willow's apartment
Willow was hunched over her sketchpad, pencil dancing swiftly over the paper when her phone buzzed on the nearby table. She glanced at it and sighed when she saw the caller ID.
It was the building manager, informing her that her father was downstairs. They'd refused to let him up to her apartment, knowing her wishes.
With a groan, Willow pushed away from the table. She tugged on a pair of black bum shorts and an oversized black T-shirt with a red painted design on the back. It looked like the shirt was worn inside out — but that was the style.
She didn't bother dressing up for them. She wasn't coming down out of respect — she knew them too well. If she didn't show up, they would stay until they caused a scene in this peaceful estate.
And if they got arrested, the police would call her repeatedly as the only reachable family member. It was less stressful to deal with them quickly.
She descended the stairs slowly, her face impassive.
"Look at who's here — the well-known abductor of the Larkspur family," Maple sneered the moment Willow stepped outside.
Rachael pinched Maple's arm discreetly, urging her to stay silent. They were here to ask for help, after all.
"Why are you guys here?" Willow asked flatly, folding her arms across her chest.
"Why can't we come here? Aren't we your family?" Silas asked, his voice smug.
"Family? Are you sure we are?" Willow asked, her voice dripping with disdain.
"Willow, did you know you have brought disgrace to the family by being called a kidnapper?" Rachael said, her tone falsely sad.
"Really?" Willow's lips curled into a sarcastic smile. "Stop acting as if the family is that great anyways."
"You're nothing but a useless child," Silas spat.
"Really? Then why are you here?" Willow asked, one eyebrow raised.
"We need money. If not, why would we look for you?" Maple said with a glare, her posture stiff and arrogant — not like someone begging.
"The money your father worked for, right?" Willow asked, her voice cold.
"How dare you, Willow!" Silas roared, fists clenched.
"Have you ever worked for money?" Willow asked, tilting her head slightly, her tone mocking.
"No problem," Silas said, his voice low with suppressed anger. "The family is in need of money."
"So? Am I the family money tree? Or why are you here?" Willow asked again, her smile sharp.
"Willow, don't be angry. It's just that your father is in huge debt, and your sister is also in need of money," Rachael pleaded, stepping forward with clasped hands.
"I don't care about all that. So you guys can leave now. And the next time you come here, I will make sure you three are arrested," Willow said, her usual calm smile back in place. "You can leave someone at home to bail you out next time you decide to try me."
"What do you mean you don't care?" Maple hissed, starting forward, but Rachael held her back and whispered urgently.
"Willow, I know you're angry. But if you don't help, Mr. Hutton will hurt your dad. He promised to cut off his hands if he doesn't pay."
"His head can be cut off — I don't care," Willow replied coolly. "Remember, I ceased to be family four years ago." Without another word, she turned on her heel and strode back toward her apartment.
"You're such a heartless daughter! I will let everyone know you don't take care of the family now that you're rich!" Silas shouted after her, voice echoing through the courtyard.
But Willow didn't even flinch. She no longer cared about what happened to them. They weren't worth her pity.
Back in her apartment, she sank into her couch, the urge to sketch completely gone. The encounter had drained her.
Her mind wandered.
Flashback
Willow had always known her mother died giving birth to her. When she was two years old, her father brought Rachael into the house, pregnant with Maple.
Growing up, Willow constantly overheard whispers about how much her father had loved her mother — and how he now hated Willow, blaming her for her mother's death.
After Maple was born, Willow became invisible. The Larkspur mansion had five bedrooms, a kitchen, and a sitting room — all spotless because seven-year-old Willow cleaned it daily, even on school days.
Meanwhile, Maple lived like a princess. Willow was her maid.
Even in high school, everyone thought Willow was a servant, not a family member. The only reason she used the Larkspur surname was because of the family's so-called generosity.
By age twelve, she was already working odd jobs, bringing money home to avoid being hit. But even then, Silas would still beat her at the slightest mistake. By fifteen, she was numb to the pain.
She had no one to run to — her mother's family was a mystery. She didn't even know her mother's last name. Emerald. The name sometimes slipped from Silas's lips when he was drunk, sparking fights with Rachael.
Her father and mother had eloped before Willow's birth — Rachael loved reminding her of this whenever she wanted to insult her. Which she doesn't even know if it's true.
According to what Willow overheard, the house and money Silas spent actually belonged to her mother.
Willow has always liked designing since she was young. One day, when Willow was fifteen and Maple thirteen, Maple tore up Willow's beloved designs.
"Why did you tear my designs?" Willow asked angrily.
"Because I want to," young Maple replied smugly.
"How dare you!" young Willow cried, pushing her slightly. Maple exaggerated the fall, rolling down the stairs accidentally and getting injured.
Silas didn't care about the truth. He beat Willow so badly she couldn't stand the next day.
At sixteen, Willow became the family's sole breadwinner.
While she juggled multiple jobs and school, Maple lived lavishly like she was the one working.
Silas had never worked a day in his life, living off the money Willow's mother had left. Rachael didn't work either, content to be a housewife to a man with no job.
When Willow earned a university scholarship, Silas almost forbade her from going, claiming it would affect her ability to provide for the family.
She begged and begged. In an unexpected turn, Rachael convinced him to allow Willow to attend — provided she still lived at home. To this day, Willow didn't know why Rachael had helped her, but she had been grateful.
During her first year at university, the strain of work and school made her sick. She collapsed at work and was rushed to the hospital by kind colleagues.
Yet Silas forced the hospital to discharge her, saying they had no money.
But when Maple was sick, there was always plenty of money and attention.
Why didn't her father love her as he loved Maple?
Why was she treated like less than nothing?
Did he even love her at all?