1

Erin Blair, the owner of The Orchid, a simple café with a library.

Erin's life was the epitome of blessed. Her father was an affluent man in the business world and her mother was well-known in the entertainment industry. Their family was financially stable, enough for Erin to have the best childhood and upbringing possible in regards to education and familial love.

The divorce of her parents was as peaceful as a separation could be; there were no disputes over property, no arguments over Erin's custody and no stabbing of each other's backs at every chance given. The emotional damage it had was also minimal because of her maturity.

Her life was definitely less eventful than others—and that would often be the object of people's envy—but Erin knew better. There were many reasons for why personal matters were not known by outsiders, concealed and buried.

"You're back—"

The voice came from her father's bedroom, where the door was open. It was different from the woman that came around last week, because she had dark hair rather than red fiery hair.

The woman was well-endowed with a milky skin tone, wearing nothing but an untied white robe. Erin presumed she had just taken a shower from the damp hair that clung to her skin. The choice of woman was beautiful—as expected of her father's tastes.

A trace of bitterness flittered across Erin's face at that thought, her impression of this woman she had never spoken to plunged considerably. It may not have been fair, but it was born from a stubborn will of unwillingness to have anyone replace her mother.

The woman pulled the robes together and ask, "How did you get in here?"

"How else?" Erin said coldly but the apartment key card was within the woman's sight.

There was a flash of surprise before a scowl settled on her face, as though she was greatly offended the man she slept with actually had a partner; an insult to her dignity. The woman brushed her wet hair back from her eyes and engaged in a staring contest with Erin.

It wasn't until the woman came within arm's reach that Erin realised the distance between them had shortened considerably.

"You're young," she said.

"I'm no younger than you are," Erin grunted.

Any further entanglement with the woman wasn't necessary, so Erin stepped away with the decision to disengage and carry out the task she had actually come for.

"You can't go in there," the woman warned out of good nature, although to Erin it was nothing but hypocrisy. It was an attempt to place Erin at the same level of a casual fling, which made her let out a hollow laugh.

Erin's hand rested on the doorknob as she gave the woman a provocative glance. This door led to her father's private room, and that was a place none of his women could enter—the only place they couldn't enter. Erin was his daughter, so of course she was exempt from this.

"I have his permission, and the key."

The frown was there again, but there was something strange in the way the woman looked at her. Erin paid no more attention to her as she pushed the door open and went inside. The interactions she had had with the numerous women her father brought home had long equipped her with necessary experience to deal with them.

The most efficient form of communication was indifference. It was the simplest to execute, without wasting any effort, and they would often leave her alone once it got through their mind that she had no interest in developing a harmonious relationship.

"I heard Thomas has a daughter." The woman leant against the door frame; her eyes focused on Erin as she walked across the study as if studying a specimen for some scientific experiment. Erin went around the large wooden desk and sat down onto the office chair. "I assume you're his daughter."

"On what basis do you make that assumption?"

"You have"—the woman said as she scrutinised Erin's features carefully—"the same defined cheekbones and eyebrows, and you both definitely have the same aura of attraction."

Erin met with her eyes and felt regret instantly. This was a woman who was skilled in seduction, and the eyes were her deadliest weapon. They were a simple brown and yet there was something alluring in her gaze that pulled at Erin's heart. Her mind momentarily blanked.

"You're definitely his daughter," she said with certainty, but the mocking tone didn't go unnoticed. The woman gave Erin one last glance, a self-satisfied smirk on her face as she turned to go back into the bedroom next door.

The smugness in that smirk irritated Erin, not because she was influenced by her charm, but because that vixen knew she was charming for men and women alike. It was deadly, and Erin was instantly worried about her father.

The harder it was to decipher a woman's intentions, the more dangerous they were. Erin had painfully learnt first-hand how true this could be. In comparison, the ones that tried to flatter her with their overly sickly-sweet voices after knowing she was Thomas' daughter were harmless rabbits.

Erin shivered at the past experiences that surfaced in her mind. The ones with the most transparent intentions were also rather dangerous, because you never knew if it was done on purpose to mislead others. In Erin's eyes, women were all dangerous creatures.

"Erin, my dear, I made some biscuits," a nauseating voice rang in her mind, bringing her back to the torturous months where her father was with Jenna.

The biscuits were freshly out the oven and had looked enticing. Erin had to supress the desires of her stomach and emotionlessly retort, "You can shove those biscuits back into the trash bin where they belong!"

"Erin, my dear, I bought a dress I thought would look lovely on you." Jenna had brought a beautifully made navy blue dress, one that sparked Erin's admiration for the design and impulse to try it on.

Erin was anguished but gritted, "I think you need your eyes checked."

There was once a time when Jenna had been the middle of undressing when Erin walked into the bathroom. The woman had brightened up at the sight of her and suggested, "Erin, my sweetie, why don't we bathe together?"

It may have been horror or something else, but she had instantly shot back with a yell as she scrambled out of the bathroom, "You can take it with my father!"

Erin shivered. There was a foreboding feeling she would experience those moments again soon. The woman today didn't seem to be that type of person though. Erin began to search for the document that her father wanted her to get.

She placed the folder in her bag and closed the office room door. The woman was nowhere to be seen on Erin's way to the door which relieved her. The less contact they had, the better it would be. Erin didn't want to notice the similarities they had with her mother.

Erin let out a sigh. Her father's reputation of sleeping around had become common knowledge, and many people assumed that was why her parents divorced. Her mother's sudden move abroad had others believing that things were irreconcilable.

If someone stopped to observe, they would realise that her father was rather conservative and didn't sleep with women as often as the rumours said, he simply brought them home to see if Erin could get along with them.

The women he chose all bore some kind of resemblance to her mother in various ways, as if it could offer some comfort to them both. Jenna was a good chef, and the dishes she made tasted similar to the ones her mother used to make, which let her stay for half a year.

The love her father held for her mother was something that the divorce couldn't absolve, nor the years that passed after she had left. Erin would often feel her heart ache for her father.

"In the end, love is insignificant to the magnificence its portrayed as," Erin sneered as she looked around the apartment that once was the warm home to such illusionary love, where the memories have become glass shards that will cut whoever decided to touch it.