Chapter 8 - The War Begins
By the time we arrived home, it was past nine o'clock. Robert carried a sleeping Mia up to her bedroom, gently tucked her under her comforter, and kissed her forehead. He stayed in her room for nearly twenty minutes, just standing by her bed, watching her breathe in the soft glow of her nightlight.
When he finally walked down the stairs into the living room, his face had hardened into stone.
My phone was sitting on the kitchen counter, buzzing non-stop.
12 Missed Calls from Ruth Miller.
5 Missed Calls from Jenna Miller.
3 Text Messages from Gerald Miller.
I hadn't opened any of them. Robert picked up his own phone, which was also blowing up with notifications. Without a word, he hit the settings button and blocked every single one of their numbers—his mother, his father, and his sister.
"Block them on your phone, too," Robert said calmly, leaning against the kitchen counter.
"Done," I replied, tapping the screen and blocking all three contact cards. "Rob... what do we do now? Mia heard everything. She’s only seven. She’s going to have questions tomorrow."
Robert ran a hand through his dark hair, looking deeply exhausted, but his eyes were sharp. "Tomorrow morning, we call Dr. Sarah."
Dr. Sarah was a child psychologist we had consulted two years ago when considering how to eventually talk to Mia about her donor origins.
"We bring forward our plan," Robert continued. "We explain it to Mia simply, with love, the way we always planned to. We make sure she knows that love makes a family, not DNA. We protect her mind before my family tries to mess with her head any further."
"And what about your family?" I asked softly.
Robert’s eyes narrowed. "My family thinks they can act like ruthless royalty and suffer no consequences. They’ve done this their whole lives. My father controls everyone with his money, my mother controls everyone with emotional guilt, and Jenna is a parasite who feeds on drama."
He walked over to his laptop sitting on the dining table and flipped it open.
"What are you doing?" I asked.
"My father’s firm, Miller Commercial Holdings," Robert said, typing rapidly on the keyboard. "I am the chief technology officer and a 15% equity partner. I built their entire digital infrastructure and managed their major client portfolios for the last six years."
He paused, looking up at me.
"Tomorrow morning at 8:00 AM, I am resigning. Effective immediately. And I am pulling every single client account I personally manage."
I stared at him, stunned. "Rob... that’s your livelihood. That’s your career."
"No," Robert said firmly, his voice steady. "That was my golden cage. My father thought he owned me because he gave me a high-paying position in his company. He thought I would bow down to him forever because of family loyalty. But family died in that dining room tonight."
Just as he finished speaking, the landline phone on the kitchen wall began to ring.
We had forgotten about the landline.
Robert walked over, picked up the receiver, and put it on speakerphone without saying a word.
"Robert! Answer me!" Gerald’s voice boomed through the speaker, loud, demanding, and furious. "How dare you turn off your cell phones! How dare you leave my house like that!"
Robert didn't blink. He stood over the phone, his expression completely blank.
"Are you listening to me, Robert?" Gerald barked. "Your mother is hysterically crying! You made a scene in front of the whole household over a misunderstanding! Jenna made a mistake, fine! But you don't talk to your parents like that!"
Robert leaned down toward the microphone.
"Gerald," Robert said, calling his father by his first name for the first time in his life.
There was a sudden pause on the other end of the line.
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"You have until 8:00 AM tomorrow to prepare your board for my formal resignation," Robert said, his voice as sharp as broken glass. "And if any of you step foot on my property, send a letter, or attempt to contact my daughter ever again, I will file a permanent restraining order and release the security footage of what you did tonight to every single one of your business associates."
Without waiting for a response, Robert slammed the phone back onto the wall mount, unplugged the phone jack from the wall, and tossed the cord into the trash can.
