Marrying My Father's Enemy-Chapter 73: Eira’s Diary

Chapter 73: Eira’s Diary

Marion’s chair scraped across the floor as one of the men shoved her into it, tying her wrists tightly to the armrests with rough, scratchy rope.

Her ankles were bound to the chair legs; she was completely restricted.

She looked up, meeting Henry’s eyes without any kind of intimidation or fear.

"Heh!" she laughed.

Seeing Eira’s father acting so desperate in front of her, she couldn’t hold it anymore. It was amazing.

At this moment, Marion knew that Eira had already won.

Henry stood in the center of the room, his arms crossed, watching as his men finished securing her.

His face was impassive, but Marion saw the tension in his jaw, the way his fingers twitched slightly.

"Is this your grand plan, Henry?" she asked. "Bring a gang of hired thugs to tie up an old woman? Pathetic."

Henry stepped forward, his polished shoes clicking against the wooden floor. "You don’t know when to keep quiet, do you?"

"I know when to keep quiet," Marion said, her smile widened. "I just don’t feel like it right now. Watching you squirm is far too entertaining."

"You think this is a game?" Henry said sharply, leaning down until his face was inches from hers.

Marion didn’t flinch. "I know it’s not a game. This is your life, Henry. Tying up women, threatening children, stealing money to cover up your own failures. You’re nothing but a useless, pathetic excuse for a father."

Henry’s eyes narrowed. "Careful, Marion. You’re walking on thin ice."

"Thin ice?" Marion scoffed. "Henry, I’ve been through more in my lifetime than you could even imagine. You think a few ropes and your ridiculous threats scare me? You’re delusional."

Henry straightened, gesturing for his men to step back.

He took a moment to compose himself. "You should be scared. I don’t think you understand the position you’re in right now."

Marion smirked. "I understand perfectly. You want to use me to control Eira. But let me tell you something, Henry. You’re wasting your time. You don’t even understand her."

"I understand her just fine," Henry snapped.

"Do you?" Marion asked. "Do you understand how much that little girl loved you? How much she wanted to be near you? How she would watch you on TV, hugging your daughter, laughing with your family, and wonder why you couldn’t spare even a second for her?"

Henry’s face froze.

Marion leaned forward as far as the ropes would allow, her voice gaining strength.

"She wrote about it, you know. In her diary. Page after page of a little girl’s hopes, dreams, and heartbreak. She wanted nothing more than to be part of your life, to feel like she mattered to you."

Henry’s lips thinned. "Eira was fine. She had everything she needed."

Marion barked a harsh laugh. "Everything she needed? Henry, she was a child! She didn’t need money or toys. She needed her father. But you left her and Helen vulnerable while you played the perfect family man on television. You gave her nothing but pain, and when those weren’t enough, you’re trying to make her disappear completely."

"Enough," Henry growled, but Marion ignored him.

"She waited for you," Marion continued. "She cried for you. And when she finally realised you were never coming back, she wrote it all down. Every thought, every feeling, every wound you left her with. That diary was her only comfort because you sure as hell weren’t."

Henry stepped closer. "Where is it?"

Marion’s smile widened. "Ah, there it is. The real reason you’re here. Do you want her diary?"

"I’ll find it," Henry said. "One way or another."

"I-idiot!" Marion’s laughter rang out again. "You’ve been looking at yourself for years, haven’t you? Turning over every stone, harassing anyone who might have a clue. And yet, here you are. Still empty-handed."

"Where is it?" Henry repeated.

But Marion had other thoughts. She wanted Henry to break, so even if he kills her now, Eira would have enough reasons to hate him and finally send him to jail.

"You’ll never find it," Marion stated. "Because you don’t deserve to. That diary is Eira’s truth. And her truth is that you failed her, Henry. Over and over again."

Henry’s hand shot out, grabbing the back of the chair and pulling it forward so abruptly that Marion almost tipped over.

"I’m done playing games," he hissed. "You will tell me where it is, or you’ll regret it."

Marion’s eyes flashed with fire. "I already regret plenty of things, Henry. But giving you what you want? That’s not one of them."

Henry’s knuckles turned white as he gripped the chair.

His men stood silently in the background, watching the confrontation happen.

"You think this is strength?" Marion said, in a steady voice despite her position. "Bullying an old woman? Trying to erase the truth because it makes you look bad? You’re not strong, Henry. You’re a coward."

Henry’s breath came in sharp bursts, his composure cracked. He released the chair abruptly, turning his back on her to regain control of himself.

"You’ve made your choice," he said coldly. "Don’t think there won’t be consequences."

Marion leaned back in the chair. "Do whatever you need to, Henry. But know this—you’ll never win. Not against Eira. Not against the truth."

Henry didn’t respond. He strode toward the door, gesturing for his men to stay behind.

As he stepped outside into the cold night air, his phone buzzed in his pocket. He answered without looking at the screen.

"Sir, the press release has gone live," his assistant reported. "The story about Vanesa is gaining traction."

"Good," Henry said. "Keep me updated."

He hung up and glanced back at Marion’s house. The loud sound of her scream was coming through the door.

His jaw clenched.

"She’ll regret this," he muttered to himself, climbing into his car. "They all will."

"Sir, we found the diary," a man approached.

"Good. Give it to me."

"What will you do with it?"

"Read it."

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