The word came like a single strike of thunder.
"No."
It was not one voice but three—Raymond, Drake, and Jagger—spoken almost in unison, firm and absolute. The refusal carried no hesitation, no trace of doubt.
It was the kind of answer that came from men who believed their authority was final. The sound of it echoed through the living room, heavy and sharp, cutting through the silence that had settled after Mindy’s declaration.
Mindy’s smile deepened, though it did not reach her eyes. She had expected this. Every word, every reaction, every denial had already played out in her mind long before she spoke.
Slowly, she reached for one of the photographs scattered across the table and tapped it lightly against her palm. The soft rhythm of paper against skin was the only sound in the room.
"Then," she said quietly, her tone calm and deliberate, "I suppose Mr. Andrew Bose will be very busy tomorrow morning. So will every newspaper in Greendale."
The meaning behind her words was unmistakable. Raymond’s face darkened instantly, his jaw tightening as his temper flared. "You can’t do that," he said, his voice low but dangerous.
"Why not?" Mindy asked, her tone still light, almost conversational. "The choice has always been yours. I never asked for money. I never asked for shares. I never asked for your company. I only asked for one thing—my freedom."
Raymond took a deep breath, visibly trying to suppress his anger. His voice softened, though the strain in it was clear. "Ask for something else," he said. "Anything."
He hesitated, then added, "If you want your mother’s company, you can have Rona Design."
The faint smile on Mindy’s face vanished.
For the first time that evening, her eyes turned cold, the warmth in them extinguished completely. She looked directly at Raymond, her voice quiet but cutting.
"You are negotiating with me using my mother’s company?"
A quiet laugh escaped her lips, but it carried no amusement. It was the sound of disappointment, of something breaking quietly inside her.
"Rona Design belonged to my mother," she said. "It should have become mine long ago. You handed it to outsiders. And now you want to use it as a bargaining chip?"
She shook her head slowly, disbelief flickering across her face. "Mr. Hawthorne," she said, her tone turning icy, "have you truly lost all sense of shame?"
The title hung in the air like a slap. Mr. Hawthorne.
Not Dad.
Not Father.
Just a man with a name and a title.
Raymond’s fingers tightened unconsciously against the armrest. For reasons he couldn’t explain, hearing those two words from her lips made something twist painfully in his chest. He ignored the feeling, forcing his voice to remain steady.
"Anything else," he said. "I’ll give it to you."
Mindy’s expression softened into something almost pitying.
"I don’t want anything," she said quietly. "I simply don’t want to belong to this family anymore."
Her gaze shifted toward Missy, then back to Raymond.
"You already have your precious daughter. So why hesitate? You can finally stop forcing me to become Missy’s doormat."
The words landed like stones dropped into still water, sending ripples through the room. No one spoke. No one denied it. The silence that followed was thick and suffocating.
Jagger was the first to break.
"Have you completely lost your mind?" he demanded, his voice rising with disbelief.
Mindy turned her head toward him, her expression calm, almost detached. She looked at him as though he were a child throwing a tantrum. Her lips curved slightly.
"Do I look like I’ve lost my mind?" she asked softly. "I don’t think I’ve ever been clearer."
Her gaze swept across the room, meeting each pair of eyes one by one—Raymond’s, Drake’s, Jagger’s, Emily’s, Missy’s, even Layton’s.
"You," she said slowly, her voice steady and unflinching, "are not my family anymore."
The words were spoken without hesitation, without blinking, without emotion. They were not shouted, not whispered, but delivered with the quiet certainty of someone who had already mourned the loss long ago.
The silence that followed stretched endlessly.
Five minutes passed, though it felt much longer. No one moved. Raymond stared at her, searching her face for something—remorse, hesitation, a flicker of doubt. He waited for her to laugh, to cry, to admit that this was all an emotional outburst. He waited for her to say she didn’t mean it.
But she didn’t.
She sat perfectly still, her posture straight, her expression calm, as though she were discussing someone else’s life entirely.
Finally, Raymond closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, the anger was gone, replaced by something heavier, something that looked almost like defeat.
"Fine," he said quietly. His voice was hoarse, the words rough around the edges. "As you wish."
He turned toward Drake. "Call our lawyer. Prepare the severance agreement. Arrange a press conference."
Drake blinked, stunned. "Dad... but—"
"Now," Raymond said sharply, leaving no room for argument.
Drake hesitated for a moment, then silently picked up his phone.
Throughout the entire exchange, Raymond never looked away from Mindy. His eyes remained fixed on her, watching, waiting for her to regret it, to apologize, to take it back.
But she never did.
Half an hour later, the family lawyer arrived carrying a stack of legal documents. Downstairs, the lobby had already been prepared for a live press conference. Reporters from every major media outlet in Greendale were gathering outside, their cameras flashing as they waited for the announcement.
Drake looked at his father one last time, his voice low but urgent. "Dad, please think about this."
Raymond’s expression didn’t change. His answer remained the same.
Emily dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief, her voice trembling just enough to sound sincere. "Raymond, surely we can discuss this peacefully," she said.
Missy clung to his sleeve, her tears falling in perfect rhythm. "Dad, please don’t do this," she pleaded. "I don’t want Sister to leave."
The two women cried beautifully, their performance flawless. Anyone watching would have believed they were heartbroken.
But Mike, standing quietly near the wall, noticed the tiny flicker of satisfaction hidden deep in Missy’s eyes. He said nothing.
Mindy, meanwhile, simply smiled—a small, peaceful smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.
The lawyer placed the severance agreement on the table before her. Mindy took her time, reading through every page, every clause, every signature line. Her movements were calm, deliberate, precise.
When she was satisfied that everything was in order, she picked up the pen. Without the slightest hesitation, she signed her name.
Mindy Hawthorne.
For the last time.
When the pen left the paper, the room fell silent again. Raymond’s calm expression finally cracked. He hadn’t expected this. Not even now, after everything, he had still believed she would stop. He had believed she would hesitate, that she would cry, that she would beg him to reconsider.
But she didn’t.
She signed without shedding a single tear.
What he didn’t know was that every tear she could possibly cry had already been shed in her previous life. There were none left for the Hawthorne family.
Mindy closed the file gently and looked up at Raymond.
"The photographs are still with Uncle Andrew," she said softly. "So you still have one final choice. Which daughter do you want to save?"
Raymond’s eyes widened slightly, but before he could respond, Missy rushed forward and clutched his arm.
"Dad, please don’t," she whispered, her voice trembling.
Emily stepped forward as well, her tone urgent. "There must be another solution," she said.
Neither of them wanted the photographs released, but deep inside, both women were celebrating. Everything had gone exactly as they had hoped.
After several long seconds, Raymond reached for the pen. His hand trembled slightly as he signed the agreement. When he finished, he set the pen down and turned away. Without another word, he walked toward the elevator that led to the lobby.
He never looked back.
Downstairs, the servants turned on the television. The live broadcast had already begun.
Dozens of reporters crowded the lobby, their cameras flashing as Raymond stepped up to the microphones. Drake stood beside him, his face grim.
After offering a brief greeting, Raymond began to speak.
"Today," he said, his voice steady but cold, "I have an important announcement."
The reporters leaned forward, their pens poised.
"From this day forward, the Hawthorne family has officially severed all ties with Mindy Hawthorne."
Gasps rippled through the hall. The flashes intensified.
Raymond continued, his expression unreadable. "She is no longer a member of the Hawthorne family. I have only one daughter—Missy Hawthorne."
The room erupted into chaos. Questions flew from every direction.
"Chairman Hawthorne! What happened?"
"Is this related to today’s news?"
"Did something occur inside the Hawthorne family?"
Raymond ignored them all. The broadcast ended moments later, leaving behind a storm of speculation.
Upstairs, the penthouse was silent.
Mindy sat on the sofa, watching the television screen as the broadcast ended. Her breathing remained steady, her expression calm.
Only she knew how much those words hurt.
Once, she had a loving family—a beautiful mother, two brothers who adored her, a father who carried her on his shoulders. Then everything had disappeared.
For a brief moment, the memory of the warehouse flashed through her mind—the cold floor, the smell of blood, the sound of her father’s voice choosing Missy over her.
The same man. The same choice.
Just like before, he had chosen Missy.
Slowly, Mindy closed her eyes. When she opened them again, there were no tears.
Twenty minutes later, Raymond and Drake returned.
The atmosphere in the room had grown heavier, the silence thicker. Drake looked at Mindy, his expression cold.
"Are you happy now?" he asked. "All of this is your fault."
Mindy looked at him quietly. That sentence—she had heard it countless times before. Yet she had never truly understood what, exactly, had been her fault.
She smiled faintly. "Mr. Hawthorne," she said, the unfamiliar title making Drake flinch, "you seem to misunderstand something. I gave your father a choice. He made it. I didn’t force him. If he wants to publicly acknowledge an outsider as his only daughter, that is his decision, not mine."
Drake froze, his mouth opening but no words coming out. Even Jagger, who had been glaring at her moments earlier, couldn’t find a response. For the first time, neither brother knew what to say.
Mindy didn’t wait for a reply.
She stood gracefully, smoothing her dress. "I’ll pack my belongings," she said simply, and turned toward the stairs.
Emily lowered her head to hide the smile threatening to appear on her lips. Beside her, Missy’s heart danced with excitement. Finally, the obstacle was gone.
Fifteen minutes later, Mindy came downstairs, pulling a single suitcase behind her. That was all she had. Two years of marriage, reduced to one suitcase.
Sonia’s eyes immediately landed on it. "Stop," she said sharply.
Mindy paused, turning her head slightly. "What’s inside the bag?"
The room fell silent. Everyone understood what she was implying. Sonia suspected her of stealing.
Mindy stared at her for several seconds, then smiled faintly.
"You want to inspect my luggage?" she asked.
Layton frowned. "Mom," he said quietly, but Sonia ignored him.
"What if she’s taking something valuable?"
Mindy suddenly laughed. The sound was soft at first, then grew louder, echoing through the room. Everyone looked at her strangely.
When she finally stopped, she looked directly at Sonia, her expression calm.
"What exactly has your son ever given me," she asked softly, "that I should steal?"
Her gaze shifted to Layton, her smile turning painfully calm.
"Did he buy me a wedding ring?" she asked.
The room fell silent.
"Did he ever buy me clothes?" she continued. "No."
"Bags?" "No."
"Jewelry?" "No."
"A birthday gift?" "No."
"An anniversary present?" "No."
She paused, her eyes never leaving Layton’s face.
"Did he ever give me a monthly allowance?"
The silence that followed was absolute. Everyone turned toward Layton. Even Raymond frowned. Layton’s face darkened, his jaw tightening as realization dawned.
He had never given her anything. Not once.
Meanwhile, every month, one million dollars had been quietly transferred into Missy’s account as spending money.
No one spoke. Not even Sonia. For the first time, she realized something she had never questioned before—the wealthiest young businessman in Greendale had never spent a single cent on his own wife.
Mike stood quietly behind Layton, his expression unreadable. Even he looked stunned. No wonder Miss Mindy wanted to leave.
Mindy smiled faintly. "I was treated worse than the maids working in this house," she said softly. "At least they were paid. I wasn’t."
She paused, her voice dropping even lower.
"He didn’t give me any respect."
"He didn’t even give me the title of being called Mrs. Knight."
Without another glance, she turned and pulled her suitcase toward the door. This time, no one stopped her.
The front door closed behind her with a soft click.
Outside, Mindy took a deep breath.
The evening breeze brushed gently against her face, cool and clean. Instead of heartbreak, she felt relief—pure, unshakable relief. It was as though invisible chains had finally fallen away.
She looked up at the sky, and a genuine smile bloomed across her face. Then she laughed, the sound light and free, carrying into the night.
A single tear left her eye—she wasn’t sure if it was from the joy of freedom, or for the girl who had sacrificed everything for the people inside.
Finally, she picked up her phone. There was one person she wanted to hear—the one person who had never stopped believing in her.
Her grandfather.
Inside the penthouse, no one moved. The silence was suffocating.
Finally, Raymond broke it. He turned slowly toward Layton, his voice low. "Was she telling the truth?"
Drake looked equally stunned. "You never gave her anything?" he asked.
Jagger frowned deeply. "But every month, you transferred one million to Missy," he said. "Are you serious?"
Layton remained silent. For the first time in years, he realized he couldn’t answer a single question.
Jagger turned to his father, his voice rising.
"Dad, why did you sign the papers? Do you really want to sever our relationship with her? She’s a Hawthorne."
Missy clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
Raymond sighed, waving his hand dismissively. "She’s just throwing a tantrum. She’ll be back in a few days and apologize."
Everyone believed that.
Mindy had always apologized. She couldn’t stay away from them.
Sonia turned to Layton, her voice sharp. "Did she really sign the divorce papers?"
Layton didn’t say anything. He simply stood there, staring in the direction Mindy had left, his expression unreadable.