Charles’s man immediately nodded before excusing himself.
As he left, Charles’s expression only grew darker.
Even though hours had passed and he had long since returned home, he still couldn’t shake the image of Damian walking into his territory and claiming power and authority over him as though Charles Beaumont were nothing.
And then—
He had claimed his daughter right in front of him.
That was the greatest humiliation of all.
And worse, Charles had been forced to endure it in front of countless people.
Yet amidst all that humiliation, one thing continued to bother him.
That strange, unsettling sense of familiarity he had felt the moment he looked at Damian.
There had been something about that young man’s presence …
Something that made Charles feel as though he had seen him somewhere before.
As though Damian reminded him of someone he had once known.
But no matter how hard he tried to place the feeling, he couldn’t remember ever having any connection with the Callahan family.
And then there was the Pentarchy…
That was another mystery he couldn’t solve.
How had the Pentarchy Syndicate become involved in this?
This was Maridia —the territory controlled by the Caldwell family.
Even if the city was wealthy and rapidly expanding, it shouldn’t have been enough to attract the interest of the Pentarchy Syndicate.
So how had their men appeared today?
And why were they standing behind the Callahans?
Charles’s thoughts were interrupted by a knock at the door.
His brows furrowed, and he looked up in clear displeasure.
The door opened, and Lyla stepped inside.
“Father…”
Seeing him sitting behind his desk, she immediately wore an expression of concern.
She pushed the door open a little farther and walked in.
“You haven’t had your dinner.
Shall I ask the maid to serve you a plate?”
Charles frowned.
“No need.
You… go back.”
Lyla didn’t leave.
Instead, she walked farther into the study.
“Father, you can’t be like this,” she said, her tone carrying a hint of accusation.
“You can’t keep punishing yourself —or the rest of us —over what Evelyn did today.”
Charles’s expression darkened.
“If you want to punish someone, punish her,” Lyla continued, pointing toward the door behind her.
“She dared to dishonor you in front of so many people.
Yet all you did was let her walk away.”
“You let her marry that man she wanted to and let her walk away as though none of it had affected you.”
Her voice carried a trace of frustration, as though she had finally reached her limit.
“Why… why are you always so indulgent towards her?”
Charles already had a pounding headache.
And hearing his older daughter remind him of every humiliation he had suffered that day pushed what little patience he had left to its limit.
He slammed his hand against the desk and rose, shoving the chair backwards.
“I have already disowned her!” he snapped.
“She is no longer my daughter.
Lyla flinched slightly.
She knew she was playing with fire —a flame that could easily lash back at her.
But she didn’t retreat.
Not when she had finally been handed an opportunity that could work in her favor.
“Is that enough?” she asked as though in disbelief.
Charles’s eyes narrowed.
Lyla took another step forward.
“You were humiliated in front of hundreds of guests.
The other Capos, who once wouldn’t have dared speak against you, are already fueling gossip about you and what happened at the wedding banquet tonight.”
She paused.
“Is simply disowning her enough, Father?”
Charles’s jaw clenched.
He blamed Damian Callahan for everything that had happened tonight.
But how had he forgotten that his own daughter had paved the way for his humiliation?
His own blood…
Perhaps he really had gone too soft on her.
Otherwise, how could Evelyn have dared to stand before him —in front of so many people —and defy him like that?
For the first time, Charles found himself thinking that perhaps she really did deserve punishment.
“Father, Evelyn is my sister too,” Lyla continued, her voice softer now.
“But I’m also a Beaumont.”
She lowered her gaze as though the words pained her.
“And you always taught us to put family and family’s reputation as the priority above all.
Watching her drag our family name through such a disgraceful scandal isn’t something I can simply ignore.”
She looked at him again.
“How could you let her walk away without punishment?
You’ve always favored her.
But I never thought you’d favor her over the family —the family you’ve spent years building with your own hands.”
“Lyla!” Charles’s voice was sharp.
Apart from Don Caldwell, he had never allowed anyone to question his authority.
How dare his own daughter challenge him like this?
“Father, I’m sorry.” Lyla immediately lowered her head.
However, she didn’t stop.
“But answer me honestly.
If I had dared to do something like this, would you have let me go unpunished?”
Charles frowned.
He opened his mouth to answer.
But before he could say anything, Lyla continued.
“You wouldn’t.” Her voice was quiet, almost resigned.
“Though Evelyn and I are both your daughters, you’ve always treated us differently.”
She paused.
“And you’re doing it again now.”
Charles stared at her.
“What do you want me to do?”
But hearing Lyla say it aloud made him wonder whether he really had given Evelyn too many privileges.
Otherwise, how could she have dared to walk in front of him —in front of hundreds of people —and defy him so openly?
Perhaps Lyla was right.
Perhaps … Evelyn did deserve punishment.
Lyla’s eyes brightened for the briefest moment.
But she quickly concealed it beneath an expression of concern.
“What could I possibly want, Father?” She made herself sound reluctant, as though she hated even having to suggest it.
“I only want the Beaumont name to remain respected.
And if justice can be restored by punishing Evelyn for defying you, then… shouldn’t you uphold that justice?”
Charles stared at her.
Lyla stepped closer and gently took hold of his arm.
She guided him back into his chair before moving behind him and slowly massaging his tense shoulders.
“Punish her, Father,” she murmured.
“She deserves to understand that what she did was wrong.”
Her fingers moved slowly against his shoulders.
“She has been a Beaumont by blood.
That means she has a duty to protect this family’s name.”
Her voice softened further.
“What gives her the right to destroy the reputation you’ve built with your sweat and blood?”
Charles’s brows knitted together.
His fingers curled against the desk.
He couldn’t have agreed more.
Evelyn deserved to be punished.
“Then what do you suggest?” he asked.
Behind him, Lyla’s lips curved into the faintest smile.
She had waited years for an opportunity like this.
Years of watching Evelyn receive everything she had been denied.
Years of swallowing her resentment.
And now, finally, she had been handed a chance to tip the scales.
Her fingers paused against her father’s shoulders.
“Perhaps…” she began softly, leaning closer while lowering her voice until it was almost a whisper.
“…she should be made to pay a price she won’t forget.”
Charles’s expression changed.
He slowly turned his head to look at her, his eyes narrowing.
“What exactly do you mean by that?”
Lyla’s heart gave a small jump.
She immediately softened her expression, as though only now realizing how her words might have sounded.
“Father, don’t misunderstand me.” She quickly shook her head.
“Evelyn is my sister too.
We share the same blood.
I would never wish any greater harm upon her.”
Her fingers resumed their slow movement over his shoulders.
“I only mean…” She spoke, lowering her eyes.
“…that the punishment should be enough to make her remember the consequences of what she did.”
She paused deliberately.
“And bleeding is the best way to remember a lesson, don’t you think?”