So Grandpa knew she'd run away, yet he remained indifferent—even spending time teaching that bastard calligraphy instead?
Did she overestimate her own importance?
"Impossible!"
Sandra's pupils trembled as she glared at dad, her voice sharp with disbelief.
"You're just saying this to provoke me—to drive a wedge between me and Grandpa!"
"Every word is true," Mr. Porter sneered, relishing the way her face grew even paler.
"If Father really wanted to find you, you'd have been dragged back to the Porter family long ago."
"No... That's not..."
Her lips quivered, but no words came out. Deep down, she knew he was right.
With Grandpa's resources and how well he knew her, tracking her down would've been effortless—just like all those times before.
But this time... there has been nothing.
Not a single move.
The bodyguards in the car had long grown accustomed to the hostile dynamic between this father-daughter pair who treated each other like sworn enemies.
