Barren Heiress Returns With Quadruplet

Ellen’s POV

I sat back in my seat opposite him and reached out to lay my phone on his table. His expression was so down and I knew something was definitely off.

“Dad, are you alright?” I inquired softly, my voice laced with genuine concern.

He raised his eyes to meet mine, the weariness in his expression evident. “The lawyer is awake,” he informed me gravely. “He’s conscious now.”

My heart skipped a beat at the news, a surge of worry flooding through me. “What’s he saying? Has he made any move? Has he said anything?” I pressed urgently.

If that lawyer woke up and began saying things he should not, then all of our hard work would go down the drain.

His response was firm and resolute. “I’ve got my eyes on him. If he says anything, I’ll finish off what I started four years ago.”

Shock coursed through me at his words, and I could not help but demand clarification. “Dad, what do you mean by ‘what you started’?” I asked.

He raised his eyes to meet my gaze steadily. “Yes Ellen, what I started. There are some things you should know by now,” he replied cryptically. “Don’t expect me to be telling you everything. I already knew my mother, your Grandma Monica, would play a fast one on me.”

“Dad, does this have anything to do with Aunt Fiona?” I asked as I observed the bitterness in his tone and the hurt that lay in his eyes as he spoke about Grandma Monica.

“Yes. It has everything. Every damned thing to do with her Ellen.” My father replied, hitting the picture on the table.

It was obvious he was hurt, but over time he had avoided this discussion and would not go beyond a few words on the topic. But I decided to press him for more details.

“Dad, do you want to talk about it?” I paused to observe his reaction. “I promise to listen and tell no tales if that is what you want?” I added.

I have been dying to hear the details about what happened with our saintly Grandma Monica, Father, and Aunt Fiona.

Father sighed. “Fiona was truly a sweetheart,” he began, his voice tinged with emotion. “Everyone adored her, and our mother showered her with affection, leaving me somewhat in the shadows.”

I listened intently as my father shared the story of Fiona’s remarkable achievements. “She was the one who initiated the establishment of the Cancer Children’s Foundation,” he continued, pride evident in his tone. “It was her passion project, her way of making a difference in the world.”

Sounds like lots of charity work. Urgh, dirty.

“So,” my father continued, “that Cancer Children’s Foundation is what your mother is currently running.”

I couldn’t contain my curiosity and blurted out, “How did Mother come to own the foundation then? Who gave it to Mother?”

“Calm the hell down, Ellen,” he cautioned, his tone gentle yet firm. “I’m still explaining.”

“Sorry, father.” I apologized and waited for him to continue.

“Fiona was everyone’s favorite. She reached out to people, sought donations in different countries, organized numerous charity events,” he explained.

“Her kindness was so genuine that people couldn’t believe she came from a wealthy family,” he added.

So, he continued by sharing the story of how his sister, Fiona always seemed to overshadow him with her achievements. It was always about Fiona, her successes, her accolades.

I would personally have hated her too.

He recounts a specific incident when he was arrested for drunk driving and had to sleep the night in detention. When Grandma Monica had to bail him out of jail the next day, she was furious. “Look at Fiona,” she scolded him, “out there doing great things, while you’re getting yourself into trouble.”

“Do you know the most embarrassing part of that day?” He asked me.

I was in for the stories and to ask the questions and it was the other way round. “No Dad. What was it?”

The most cutting remark, my father admits, was when his mother declared that Fiona would be in charge of everything because of his mistakes.

And to top the icing on the cake, because of all her achievements, everything was always about Fiona. “Fiona this, Fiona that, Fiona here, Fiona there. Everything was about Fiona, and my mother neglected me because she had Fiona.”

Despite his efforts to prove himself, he could never seem to win his mother’s approval. “I gave up trying,” he sighs, “nothing I did ever pleased her.”

My heart went out to my father, he must have really gone through a whole lot of trauma because of what happened.

He continued, “She was a really good child,” he admits. “She did everything Grandma Monica wanted her to do.”

Fiona excelled as a lawyer, topping her class and graduating as the best lawyer in the country. Her legal skills were unparalleled, and many companies sought her counsel. The legal department of the Manor company thrived under her leadership.

Despite her success, my father reflects, Fiona’s achievements were soon forgotten after her death. “That’s how this fucking world is,” he laments. “They quickly forget you once they get nothing from you.”

That’s why he’s focused on taking care of his family and those around him. It’s a lot to process.

As my father continues, he explains, “But things took a turn for Fiona and Grandma Monica when Fiona fell in love.”

I furrowed my brow, puzzled. “How could falling in love cause things to go downhill?” I questioned.

My father nodded in understanding before revealing, “It wasn’t just who she fell in love with, but who that person was.”

My mind raced with possibilities. Who could Fiona have fallen for?

But before I could voice my thoughts, my father provided the answer. “Fiona fell for one of your Grandma Monica’s security men,” he discloses.

“He didn’t have a degree, barely finished high school, and never had the opportunity for college. He was just a poor, miserable-looking young man.”

What? She fell in love with a fucking pauper.

Despite this, Fiona saw him differently. “She saw something in him,” My father added, which earned a giggle from me.

“But your Grandma Monica strongly disapproved.” My eyes widened as the pieces started to fall into place.This belongs © NôvelDra/ma.Org.

*For the first time,” My father continued, “Fiona went against our mother’s wishes. Your Grandma Monica had already arranged for Fiona to marry the son of another wealthy conglomerate.”

I listened intently as he explained how Fiona adamantly opposed the arranged marriage, threatening to give up everything if she couldn’t marry the man she loved.

“She was willing to sacrifice it all,” He continued, “Her career, her education, everything. Despite our mother’s efforts to reason with her, Fiona stood her ground. Eventually, she left everything behind and eloped with the security man, getting married in a suburb far away.”

My father described how Grandma Monica was consumed by anger and sorrow, relentlessly searching for Fiona. When news of Fiona’s childbirth reached them, Grandma Monica rushed to be with her daughter, only to arrive too late.

Fiona and her baby had both passed away during childbirth. “Grandma Monica blamed the security guard,” my father explained. “She accused him of causing Fiona’s death and had him arrested.”

The loss of Fiona weighed heavily on Grandma Monica, leaving her in a perpetual state of mourning. In the absence of Grandma Monica, my father took charge of the company, managing it on his own. It wasn’t until five years later that Grandma Monica returned, renewed and determined.

She had returned with a child of about six years for him to adopt. She had told them that as she had traveled home after one of her charity visits she came across this little girl who resonated with her. She had promised to give him three subsidiaries in the company and hand over the cancer foundation to my mother, Esther Manor if they agreed to adopt the child.