Not Invited to His Family Dinner

Holt told me not to come to his family dinner.

His reason: You spend all day in the morgue. You reek. My mom can't stand it.

I'd already taken vacation days and booked my flight. I was planning to travel alone and clear my head.

But then he took Priscilla Quinn instead.

Priscilla was a socialite from a prominent family who spoke eight languages. Standing next to Holt, she looked like she belonged there.

Photos from the family dinner were all over social media that night.

Someone tagged me in the comments: "Fiona Harvey, did you see this?"

I saw it.

I canceled my plane ticket and booked a cruise instead.

The night Holt came home, I was packing.

He stood in the doorway with a rare hint of guilt. "Where are you going?"

"Home."

"Your home is right here"

"No. It's not."

I zipped up my suitcase and walked past him without stopping.

He didn't know my father was the biggest creditor of his Holt Corporation in Southeast Asia.

"Fiona Harvey, how long are you going to play this hard-to-get game?"

Holt kicked my suitcase aside, his eyes full of impatience.

"Canceling your flight and booking a cruise insteadyou think changing your travel plans will make me beg you to stay?"

I stopped and looked at his self-righteous face.

"I told you. I'm going home."

"Your home is here."

"No," I said, looking him in the eye. "Let go."

He hadn't expected me to look at him that way.

No pleading. No hysterical questioning. Just the cold indifference you'd give trash.

For a moment, he seemed uncertain, but his male ego quickly covered it up.

He sneered and yanked my passport from my bag.

"You're an orphan. Where else do you have to go except here?"

I looked at my empty hand. I didn't scream. I didn't try to grab it back.

"Give me my passport."

"When you learn to be reasonable, I'll give it back."

He tossed the passport into the highest drawer of the entryway cabinet and deliberately locked it.

"I brought Priscilla to the family dinner because her father can help Holt Corporation secure overseas channels in Europe."

"You're a coroner who spends all day with corpses. What can you do for me besides cutting up bodies?"

"I was putting on a performance for business. My feelings for you haven't changed. Why do you have to make a scene right now?"

I looked at the man I'd loved for seven years and suddenly found his face repulsive beyond measure.

"A performance? So you brought another woman to meet your family and let her act like the future Mrs. Holt?"

"Holt, do you think I have no self-respect? That you can trample on me however you want?"

Holt frowned, as if I were being completely unreasonable.

"That formaldehyde smell on you gives my mom headaches. I told you not to come to protect you from being hurt."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

Priscilla stood outside in a haute couture dress, smiling.

"Holt, is Fiona mad at me?"

She walked in and naturally hooked her arm through Holt's.

"I just thought the terrace in this apartment has a great view. I wanted to borrow it for a birthday party. Why is Fiona talking about running away from home?"

I watched them coldly.

This penthouse in the city centerI'd bought it with my own money, paid in full. Holt's name wasn't even on the deed.

Every piece of furniture, every plantI'd arranged them myself.

And now he'd agreed to lend my house to his mistress for a party without even asking me?

The comments scrolled across the screen:

[This guy is unbelievable. Taking his girlfriend's apartment and lending it to his mistress?]

[Complains about the morgue smell, but his own heart smells worse. Fiona, don't hold back. Crush him with your money. The Harvey heiress doesn't have to take this.]

"She's just petty. She's never seen the world."

Holt patted Priscilla's hand, his tone gentle.

"It's just an apartment. You're an honored guest of the Holt family. Use it however you want."

He turned to me, his eyes instantly cold.

"Fiona, Priscilla is from a prestigious family. She's doing you a favor by using your place."

"Be gracious. Don't make me think you're being ridiculous."

I stared at their intertwined arms.

"Fine. She can use the house."

My tone was calm.

Holt paused, seemingly surprised by my compliance.

"Good. At least you know what's good for you."

"But if anything gets damaged, she pays for it at full price." I locked eyes with Priscilla.

Priscilla covered her mouth and laughed.

"Fiona, you're so funny. These little things? I don't even care about them."

"Good."

I turned to grab my backup bag and head out.

"What are you doing now?"

Holt stepped in front of me, blocking my way.

"Since you're using the house for your party, I'm in the way. I'll stay at a hotel."

"Fiona Harvey, I'm warning you. Know when to stop."

He lowered his voice, his tone patronizing.

"I canceled business tonight to come home and spend time with you. Don't be ungrateful."

I walked around him and headed straight for the door.

"If you walk out that door today, don't ever think about coming back to the Holt family."

"Perfect."

"You really think I can't live without you?"

Holt's voice came from behind me, laced with wounded pride.

I didn't turn around. I pulled open the door.

Just then, a mud-covered stray dog suddenly burst in from the hallway and lunged straight at Holt.

Muddy water splattered all over his custom-tailored suit pants.

I stopped and waited to watch him explode.

Holt had severe OCD.

In the past, even after I'd showered three times at work and changed into completely fresh clothes, if he detected even the faintest trace of disinfectant on me, he'd wrinkle his nose and tell me to stay away.

Once, after I'd worked on a highly decomposed body, I came home and just wanted a hug. He shoved me away and spent two hours washing his hands in disgust.

But now, looking at the mud on his pants, he only frowned for a second.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Holt. I just found this puppy downstairs. He's so naughty."

Priscilla quickly crouched down and pulled out tissues to wipe the mud.

Holt actually smiled.

Not only did he not get angry, he reached out and petted the filthy dog's head.

"It's fine. It's sweet that you care about animals, Priscilla. It's just a suit."

He even took her handthe one holding the tissueand their eyes met with warmth.

I stood in the doorway watching this cozy "family of three" scene, and a wave of nausea hit my stomach.

So he never had OCD at all.

He simply found me disgusting. He despised me. He looked down on my profession and my identity from the bottom of his heart.

The comments scrolled across the screen:

[What a hypocrite. His OCD was fake. He just never loved her.]

[Look how easily he touches that dog. Makes me sick.]

[Fiona's eyes are so cold. She's completely done with him.]

"Fiona, you don't mind if I keep the puppy here, do you?"

Priscilla held the dog and looked at me innocently.

"Do whatever you want."

I pulled my suitcase toward the exit, but Holt grabbed my wrist.

"There's a limit to throwing tantrums. Stay and have dinner."

Without giving me a choice, he dragged me back to the dining room and pushed me into a chair.

The table was covered with high-end restaurant deliveryall seafood that Priscilla loved.

Holt put on disposable gloves and expertly began peeling a shrimp.

He placed the peeled shrimp meat into Priscilla's bowl, his tone indulgent.

"Your hands are too delicate. Don't let the shells cut you."

I watched his smooth, practiced movements.

Two years ago, I'd accidentally cut my right hand while slicing fruit. I needed three stitches.

That night at dinner, I asked him to peel a shrimp for me.

He slammed down his knife and fork, his face full of irritation.

"You handle scalpels all day and you can't even peel a shrimp?"

"Fiona Harvey, could you be any more melodramatic?"

Now, he was willingly peeling an entire plate of shrimp for another woman.

"Fiona, why aren't you eating?"

Priscilla munched on shrimp and smiled at me.

"Is the food not to your taste? I guess when you see so much stuff at work, it's hard to have an appetite."

Holt didn't even look up, still peeling crab.

"That's just how lifeless she is. Ignore her."

I put down my fork and stood up.

"Have you had enough fun watching?" Holt glanced at me coldly.

"If you're done, clean up the table."

"Holt gave me this necklace. You don't mind, do you, Fiona?"

Priscilla deliberately swept her hair aside, revealing an antique emerald necklace around her neck.

I'd just thrown the takeout boxes in the trash. When I turned and saw that necklace, blood rushed to my head.

That was a family heirloom from the Harvey family. It was the last thing my mother left me before she died.

I'd always kept it locked in my bedroom safe. I never even wore it.

"Take it off."

I walked up to Priscilla, my voice ice-cold.

"Fiona, why are you being so mean?"

Priscilla shrank behind Holt.

"Holt said the necklace was just gathering dust in the safe anyway. It looks better on me."

Holt shielded Priscilla and frowned at me.

"Fiona Harvey, enough. You're just jealous of Priscilla. It's just a necklace and you're making a scene?"

"I'll buy you ten tomorrow. Pick whichever you want."

I looked at his self-righteous face and suddenly felt like the past seven years had been an absurd joke.

"Holt, that's my mother's keepsake."

"What right did you have to open my safe?"

Holt's eyes flickered, but he quickly regained his superior attitude.

"What's yours is mine. Why are we drawing such clear lines?"

"Besides, Priscilla is coming with me to Holt Corporation's gala tonight. She needs a statement piece."

"You work behind the scenes. You'd be wasting it anyway."

The comments scrolled across the screen:

[Giving away a family heirloom to his mistress? Is he missing part of his brain?]

[This is theft. Just call the police. Fiona is too calm. It's the calm before the storm.]

"I'll say this one last time. Take it off."

I stepped forward and reached for the clasp.

Holt shoved me away hard enough that I crashed into the corner of the dining table.

Sharp pain shot through my lower back.

"Fiona Harvey, don't push your luck."

Holt looked down at me, his eyes full of disgust.

"Priscilla wearing your things is an honor for you."

"If you keep acting crazy, even I won't want you anymore."

Priscilla hid behind him, a smug smile on her lips.

"Holt, forget it. Maybe Fiona really can't bear to part with it. I'll give it back."

She pretended to unclasp the necklace.

Holt pressed her hand down.

"Keep it on. Let's see who dares to touch it today."

He stared at me coldly.

"Fiona Harvey, I don't have time for your tantrum tonight. Stay home and think about what you did. When you're ready to apologize, then you can call me."

With that, he pulled Priscilla out the door.

The door slammed shut.

I steadied myself against the table and slowly straightened up. The pain in my back made me more clearheaded.

I didn't cry. I didn't smash anything.

I walked into the bedroom and opened the safe that had been pried open.

Inside, besides the necklace, was a debt settlement document for Holt Corporation.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number I hadn't called in seven years.

"Paxton, I need you to do something for me."

Paxton was the chief legal officer of my father's company, Harvey Group. He was also my arranged fianc since childhood.

Years ago, for so-called "true love," I'd hidden my identity, had a huge fight with my family, and even ran away from our wedding to work as a coroner here.

Paxton had been searching for me for seven years. He'd been waiting for seven years.

"Miss Harvey, you've finally contacted me. The chairman has been worried about you all these years..." Paxton's voice trembled slightly.

"Save the reunion talk for later." I cut him off coldly, my eyes sharp as knives.

"I need you to do something."

"Cut off all of Holt Corporation's operating funds. Immediately."

The other end of the line went silent for a second, then Paxton's low, pleased laughter came through.

"As you wish, my fiance."

"I'll personally fly over with the legal team tomorrow. I guarantee within forty-eight hours, Holt will be on his knees at your feet."

I hung up and looked at myself in the mirrorthe woman who'd humiliated herself for love for seven years.

Holt, you asked for this.

At eight o'clock the next evening, Holt Corporation held its annual appreciation gala.

"Remove Fiona Harvey's name from tonight's guest list."

Holt stood at the hotel entrance, giving cold instructions to his assistant.

I stood in the shadows not far away, hearing every word.

"But Mr. Holt, Miss Harvey comes every year to help check the schedule..." The assistant hesitated.

"I don't need her tonight."

Holt cut him off impatiently.

"Priscilla will attend as my date. If Fiona's there, it'll just make Priscilla uncomfortable."

"Tell securityif they see her, keep her outside."

I watched him turn and walk into the glittering hall. I didn't even have the desire to confront him one last time.

Afraid of making his mistress uncomfortable, so he's keeping his actual girlfriend locked out?

"Tell Holt," I said, looking the assistant in the eye, word by word.

"He'll pay a price he can't afford for today's decision."

With that, I turned on my heels and walked away from the hotel without looking back.

The screen began streaming live footage from inside the gala.

Holt took Priscilla's hand and walked into the spotlight.

"Thank you all for coming. I'd like to take this opportunity to introduce the lady beside me."

He looked at Priscilla tenderly.

"Miss Priscilla Quinn will be the future Mrs. Holt."

Thunderous applause filled the room.

I stood in the cold wind, watching the perfect couple on the screen, and severed my last thread of attachment.

I turned toward a black Bentley parked by the curb.

Paxton opened the door and respectfully handed me a file.

"Miss Harvey, the yacht is ready. We can leave anytime."

"Let's go. To the harbor."

Halfway through the gala, Holt suddenly felt an overwhelming sense of panic.

He instinctively looked toward the corner but didn't see that familiar figure.

"Fiona didn't come?" He grabbed his assistant.

"Mr. Holt, you ordered us not to let her in. Security said she left half an hour ago."

"Where did she go?"

"It seems... the harbor downtown."

Holt's heart sank.

Fiona was a coroner living on a government salary. She thought taxis were too expensive. Where would she get money for a Bentley?

He suddenly remembered what I'd said last nightthat I'd canceled my flight and booked a cruise, that I was going to the marina.

That resolute look in my eyes when I said "perfect" flashed through his mind again.

Was she really leaving him for good?

He shoved aside Priscilla, who was toasting guests, and ran out of the hotel like a madman.

The comments scrolled across the screen:

[Here it comes. The yacht.]

[Run faster, Holt. You're racing to your own funeral.]

[Finally, the satisfying part. Can't wait to see Mr. Holt on his knees.]

The sea wind howled.

Holt ran to the dock, gasping for breath, searching frantically for me.

"Fiona."

Then he saw me standing on the deck of a yacht with the Harvey family crest, looking down at him from above.

Holt froze in place, disbelief written all over his face.

Beside me stood an imposing middle-aged man.

My father. The chairman of Harvey Group.

"Mr. Holt, our family's IOUHolt Corporation hasn't paid it back yet, have you?"