Chapter 2 - THE EMPTY NEST AND THE KNOCK AT THE DOORBack at the apartment, Hunter Vance paced the hardwood floor like a caged animal. His phone clutched in his sweaty palm, he stared down at the screen, his face flushing a furious crimson.
"She turned her phone off," Hunter snapped, throwing the device onto the sofa cushions. "Can you believe this, Mom? After everything we said, after laying down the law, she actually had the audacity to walk out."
Barbara Vance sat regally in the armchair, sipping her morning coffee with infuriating slowness. She wore a tailored floral dress that made her look like a benevolent church patron, completely belying the malicious cruelty she had displayed just hours earlier.
"I told you from day one, Hunter," Barbara said smoothly, setting her cup down on the glass coffee table with a sharp click. "You let her get too big for her britches. A woman with a doctorate doesn't make a wife; she makes a competitor. You’re a rising junior partner at a prestigious architecture firm. You need a wife who hosts charity dinners and decorates the living room, not a woman spending her nights buried in dusty manuscripts."
Hunter stopped pacing. A dark, ugly satisfaction flickered in his eyes. "You're right. When she comes back—defeated, humiliated, and realizing nobody wanted her looking like a plucked crow—she'll be begging for forgiveness. We'll lay down strict ground rules. No more university. No more late nights at the library. She quits her job next week."
"That's my boy," Barbara smiled, standing up and smoothing her skirt. "Now, go check the front door. I asked delivery to drop off those legal documents for your firm's merger. We need to sign them before noon."
Hunter muttered under his breath and walked toward the entryway. He swung the front door open, expecting a courier in a uniform.
Instead, standing on the welcome mat were two tall, broad-shouldered men in tailored dark suits. Between them stood a man with piercing gray eyes, wearing a heavy wool coat despite the mild weather.
Hunter’s blood ran instantly cold.
It was Richard Vance. And behind him stood two private security enforcers from his father’s massive corporate security firm.
"Dad?" Hunter stammered, his hand gripping the edge of the door frame so hard his knuckles turned white. "What... what are you doing here?"
Richard didn't answer with words. He slowly, deliberately raised his right hand and struck Hunter across the face with an open-hand backhand so hard the crack echoed down the empty apartment hallway.
Hunter stumbled backward, clutching his stinging cheek, his eyes wide with absolute terror. "Have you lost your mind?!"
Richard stepped across the threshold, his gaze sweeping over the tidy, expensive apartment as if inspecting a breeding ground for vermin. His voice, when it came, was a low, terrifying rumble that carried the weight of a multi-million-dollar empire.
"You miserable, pathetic little coward," Richard whispered, his eyes locking onto Hunter’s terrified gaze. "You thought because my daughter cut me off, there was nobody left to watch her back? You touch my blood, you break her hair, and you think you can lock her in a cage?"
Barbara rushed out of the living room, her face twisting into a mask of indignation. "Richard? Richard Vance! How dare you barge into our home—"
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Richard didn't even turn his head to look at her. He simply raised a finger, and one of the massive security guards stepped forward, blocking Barbara’s path entirely.
"Shut your mouth, Barbara," Richard said coldly, his eyes never leaving his trembling son-in-law. "Your little game is over. Pack your bags. And Hunter? Grab your keys. You’re coming with us. We're going to the university."
