Imelda's POV
Small Harmon Designs Office
The current reality of Harmon Designs was no doubt suffocating. Ever since father went to jail, the Harmon empire has been reduced to a bleak, one-room self-staffed office.
No one wants to work for the Harmon's. Only a few of the old clients are still with me.
Today I was seated behind a desk far cheaper than the one I made Veronica sit behind. I was surrounded by unanswered legal notices and unglamorous looking files that I was to tend to myself.
My nails dug deep into the armrest as I stared at the latest text notification from one of my lawyers.
He said Jonathan's lawyers were pulling out old birth records.
"Jonathan, do you think even if you prove he's not your son, you'll escape my grip?" I muttered fiercely as my teeth clenched.
I knew he thought if he could break this bond, he would be free from me.
I picked the photo frame of Jonathan I had on my desk.
