My Mother's Killer's Daughter Works For Me

"Ernest Butler."

I raised a hand to cut him off, then turned to Lisa.

"That's your father, isn't it?"

Lisa's expression flickered for a second before her chin lifted, the name itself enough to make her glow with pride.

"So Ms. Butler has heard of my father."

There was no hiding the certainty in her voice.

"Then you'll understand, if I stay, that someday there could be opportunities between your company and Butler Group."

She said it with the ease of someone who had never doubted her own value.

After all, twenty years on, Butler Group was a name that had faded from its old glory, but it still stood at a height ordinary companies could only look up at.

"That won't be necessary."

Lisa's face froze.

"I don't need anything from Butler Group."

I slid the termination letter across to her.

"Now, you can see yourself out."

That broke her composure completely. Her face went red, not with shame but with fury. She'd been the favored daughter her whole life. No one had ever turned her down to her face.

"Fine."

She glared at me, venom in it, and snatched the letter off the desk.

"Ms. Butler, I'll remember today. I hope you won't come to regret it."

Once she was gone, I dismissed the other four interns as well.

My assistant clearly hadn't caught up. She was still trying to talk me out of it.

"Ms. Butler, why would you do this? Butler Group isn't what it used to be, but a dying giant still throws a long shadow. Firing the Butler heiress in front of everyone like that, that's not a smart move."

"Are you finished?"

My voice came out cold, and she shut her mouth at once.

"Go make a copy of every project file Lisa touched during her internship and bring it to my office."

That afternoon, the moment my assistant set the files down, the office door was shoved open from the outside.

I looked up. A well-preserved woman came marching in on her heels.

She wore a Chanel suit, a jade bangle on her wrist glaring green, her makeup so polished I couldn't have guessed her real age. Alexandra Fox. Twenty years gone, and clearly she'd been living well.

"You're the one who runs this company?"

She walked up and sat down across from me, tossing her Hermès bag onto the desk like it was nothing.

"Who gave you the nerve to fire my daughter?"

I ignored her, picked up the teapot at my own pace, and poured myself a cup of tea.

"Mrs. Butler, still in fine voice, I see. You've clearly taken good care of yourself these years."

Alexandra paused.

She stared at my face for several seconds, never quite placing where she'd seen me.

She didn't remember me at all. Of course she didn't. Twenty years ago I'd been a scrawny six-year-old, run out of the house on a single word from her. Now I was the head of a multi-billion-dollar conglomerate. There was no way she'd recognize me.

But she assumed I knew her only because she was the Butler matriarch.

"Since you know who I am, let's skip the nonsense."

Alexandra's voice was elegant and unhurried, edged with the imperious habit of decades of being waited on.

"Lisa is my daughter. Her coming to work at your company is an honor for you. Though with her talent, an ordinary position is a waste. Just give her a supervisor's seat."

I smiled a little.

"Does she deserve it?"

Alexandra's face shifted.

"What did you say?"

I set the cup down and looked at her, spacing out each word.

"I said. She doesn't."

Alexandra shot to her feet, white with rage.

"You. Don't push your luck. My daughter working at your company is a favor to you. Do you have any idea how many partnership deals Butler Group closes in a year?"