Youve had a daughter. We need an heir, the man said before turning away. Twentyfive years later his firm went bust, and my daughter bought it out.
A pink bundle in the hospitals disposable blankets let out a tiny squeaksoft, almost like a kitten.
Victor Andrew Parker didnt even look back. He stared out of the large maternity ward window at the grey, rainslicked London street.
Youve had a daughter, he said, his voice even, without feelingjust the tone used to announce a market shift or a corporate merger. A plain statement of fact.
Eleanor swallowed. The pain from the delivery still throbbed, mingling with a cold numbness.
We need an heir, he added, still watching the street.
It wasnt a rebuke; it sounded like a verdict, the final and unappealable decision of a board that consisted of a single man.
At last he turned. His immaculate suit was without a wrinkle. His gaze flicked over Eleanor and the newbornthen moved on. An empty stare.
Ill sort everything out. The alimony will be fair. You can give her my name.
The door behind him closed silently, the soft click of polished wood.
Eleanor looked at her childtiny, wrinkled face, dark hair a soft fuzz. She didnt cry; tears were a luxury she could not afford, a sign of weakness that Parker Capital would not tolerate.
She would raise her alone.
Twentyfive years passed.
In those twentyfive years Victor Parker oversaw a string of takeovers, acquisitions, and the ruthless expansion of his empire. He built it exactly as he wantedglass and steel towers bearing his surname on the facades.
He secured his own heirstwo boys from his second, proper wife. They grew up in a world where any whim could be granted with a snap of the fingers, where the word no hardly existed.
Eleanor Ormond, meanwhile, learned to survive on four hours of sleep a night. She started with doubleshift work to pay for a rented flat, then turned a nighttime habit of sewing into a small dressmaking business, which eventually grew into a modest yet successful designer clothing factory.
She never spoke ill of Victor. When her daughter, everyone called Poppy, asked the rare questions, she answered calmly and honestly:
Your father had other goals. We didnt fit into them.
Poppy understood everything. She saw him on magazine coverscold, confident, flawless. She bore his surname, but kept her mothersOrmond.
When Poppy was seventeen, they ran into each other in a theatre foyer.
Victor Parker arrived with his porcelainperfect wife and two bored sons. He passed right by them, leaving a trail of expensive cologne.
He didnt even recognise them. The space where he should have felt something was empty.
That night Poppy said nothing, but Eleanor saw a change in her daughters eyeseyes that mirrored Victorssomething that had shifted forever.
Poppy graduated with a firstclass degree in economics, then earned an MBA in London. Eleanor sold her share of the business to fund the education, never hesitating for a moment.
The daughter returned, driven and sharp. She spoke three languages, outperformed many analysts on market reports, and possessed the same iron grip Victor once had.
But she also had what he lackedheart and purpose.
She joined a major banks analyst team, starting at the bottom. Her mind was too keen to stay in the shadows. Within a year she warned the board about a housingmarket bubble that everyone thought was stable.
They laughed. Six months later the market collapsed, dragging several large funds down with it. The bank that employed Poppy managed to offload its assets and profit from the crash.
Her talent caught attention. She began working with private investors tired of slowmoving giants like Parker Capital. She unearthed undervalued assets, predicted bankruptcies, and acted ahead of the curve. Her name, Poppy Ormond, became synonymous with bold yet meticulously planned strategies.
Meanwhile, Parker Capital began to rot from within.
Victor Parker grew older. His grip weakened, but his pride remained. He ignored the digital revolution, dismissing tech startups as child’s play.
He poured billions into outdated sectorssteel, raw materials, luxury property that no one wanted any more.
His flagship project, the massive Parker Plaza office complex, turned out to be useless in an age of remote work. Empty floors cost him a fortune.
His sons burned cash in nightclubs and could not tell debit from credit.
The empire was sinking, slowly but inexorably.
One evening Poppy came to her mother with a laptop open to charts, figures, reports.
Mum, I want to buy a controlling stake in Parker Capital. Its at rock bottom. Ive gathered a pool of investors for this.
Eleanor stared at her daughters determined face.
Why? Revenge?
Poppy smiled.
Revenge is an emotion. Im offering a business solution. The assets are toxic, but they can be cleaned, reshaped, and made profitable again.
She looked straight at her mother.
The founder built it for an heir. Looks like the heir has finally arrived.
A proposal from a specially created Phoenix Group landed on Victors desk like a grenade with a pulled pin.
He read it once, then twice, and tossed the papers onto his massive oakpanelled office floor.
Who are they? he barked into the intercom. Where did they come from?
Security swarmed, lawyers stayed up all night. The answer was embarrassingly simple: a small but aggressive investment fund with a spotless reputation, headed by a certain Poppy Ormond.
The name meant nothing to him.
In the boardroom panic erupted. The price offered was laughably low, yet it was the only offer on the table. Banks refused credit, partners turned away.
This is a hostile takeover! a senior deputy shouted. We must fight!
Victor raised his hand and the room fell silent.
Ill meet her. Personally. Lets see what this bird is.
The meeting was set in a glass conference room on the top floor of a city bank.
Poppy arrived exactly on time, not a second early or late. Calm, composed, in a sharp trouser suit that fit perfectly, flanked by two lawyers who looked like robots.
Victor sat at the head of the table, expecting some seasoned businesswoman, a cocky youngster, or a front man. Instead, a young, beautiful woman with striking grey eyes looked back at him.
Victor Andrew, she said, shaking his hand firmly. Poppy Ormond.
He tried to break through the professional veneer, using the patronymic as a weapon. Bold proposal, Miss Parkerson, he said, attempting to put her in her place. What are you counting on?
On your insight, her voice was as even as his once had been in the delivery ward.
You understand your position is precarious. Were not offering the top price, but were offering now. In a month, no one will be left to bid.
She laid a tablet on the table. Numbers, graphs, forecastsdry facts. Each figure was a slap, each diagram a nail in the coffin of his empire. She knew every mistake, every failed project, every debt. She dissected his business with surgical precision.
Where did you get this data? Victor asked, confidence wavering.
Sources are part of my job, she replied with a faint smile. Your security system, like much of your company, is outdated. You built a fortress but forgot to change the locks.
He tried to leverage his connections, threaten administrative resources, demand the investors names. She parried each move with cold confidence.
Your connections are now busy avoiding you. The only resource against you is the market itself. Youll learn the names of my investors when you sign the papers.
It was a crushing defeattotal and undeniable. Victor Parker, who had built this empire for a quarter of a century, sat opposite a woman who was taking it apart piece by piece.
That night he called his head of security.
I need everything on her. Every detail. Where she was born, where she studied, who she sleeps with. Turn her life upside down. I want to know whos behind her.
The search lasted two days. In that time Parker Capitals shares fell another ten percent.
The security chief entered Victors office, pale, and placed a thin folder on the desk.
Victor Andrew theres something you should see.
Victor snatched the folder.
Ormond, Poppy Victordaughter. Date of birth: 12 April. Place of birth: Maternity Ward No5. Mother: Ormond, Eleanor Ives.
Below was a photocopy of a birth certificate. In the Father line was a dash.
Victor stared at the date12April. He remembered that day: rain, the grey street outside the window, and the words he had spoken.
He looked up at his security chief.
Her mother who is she?
We we found little information. She ran a small sewing workshop, sold her share a few years ago.
Victor slumped back. A flash of a young, exhausted face from the delivery ward appeared the one he had tried to erase twentyfive years ago.
All this time hed been hunting for the hand behind the puppet. The powerful force, the male hand pulling the strings. It turned out to be a woman no one knew Eleanor Ormond.
And the daughter. His own daughter.
The heir hed rejected.
The realization didnt bring remorse. It sparked a cold fury. He had lost the battle as a businessman, but he could still try to win the war as a father. The title he never used suddenly seemed his trump card.
He dialled her personal number, which his assistant had managed to find.
Poppy, he said, for the first time without preamble, his voice softer, almost warm. We need to talk. Not as rivals, but as father and daughter.
Silence answered the line.
I have no father, Victor Andrew. All the business matters are settled. My lawyers await your decision.
This isnt just about business. Its about family. Our family.
He didnt believe his own words, but he knew which strings to pull.
She agreed.
They met in an expensive, almost empty restaurant. He arrived first and ordered her favourite flowerswhite freesias, the ones her mother liked. He remembered. Memory kindly handed him that detail.
Poppy entered without even glancing at the bouquet, sat opposite him.
Im listening, she said.
I made a mistake, he began. A terrible, ruinous mistake twentyfive years ago. I was young, ambitious, foolish. I thought I was building a dynasty, but I was destroying the only thing that mattered.
He spoke smoothly, about regret, about lost years, about how he had supposedly kept tabs on her success. The lies flowed as neatly as his suit.
I want to make it right. Withdraw your offer. Ill make you the full heir. Not just CEO, but owner. Everything I built will be yours. Officially, by law. My sons theyre not ready. You are my blood. You are the true Parker Ive been waiting for.
He reached across the table, his hand hovering over hers.
Poppy pulled her hand back.
An heir is someone who is nurtured, believed in, loved, she said softly, each word hitting like a lash. Not someone you mention when the business is sinking.
She met his gaze directly.
Youre not offering a legacy. Youre looking for a lifeline. You see me as an asset, not a daughter. You havent changed, just your tactics.
His face froze. The mask of affability cracked.
Ungrateful, he snapped. Im offering you an empire!
Your empire is a tower on sand. You built it on pride, not on a solid foundation. I dont want it as a gift. Ill buy it for what its worth today.
She rose.
And about the flowers my mother loved wild daisies. You never bothered to notice that.
His final move was desperation. He drove to Eleanors house without warning, his black limousine looking like an intruder in a quiet suburban garden.
Eleanor opened the door, frozen. She hadnt seen him this close in twentyfive years. He was olderwrinkles at the corners of his eyes, grey hairbut the assessing stare remained the same.
Eleanor he began.
Go on, Victor, she said calmly, as if stating a fact.
Listen, our daughter shes making a mistake! Shes destroying everything! Talk to her! Youre her mother, you should stop her!
Eleanor smiled bitterly.
I am her mother. I carried her in my womb for forty weeks. I didnt sleep when her teeth erupted. I took her to her first class and cried at her graduation. I sold everything I had so she could get the best education. And you, Victor? Where were you all these years?
He was silent.
You have no right to call her our daughter. Shes only mine, and Im proud of who shes become. Now go.
She shut the door on him.
The share purchase was signed a week later in the same skyscraper where Victor once ruled. The plaque at the entrance now read Phoenix Group European Headquarters.
Victor entered his former office. It was empty. The heavy furniture, the paintings, the personal trinkets had vanished, leaving only a desk.
Poppy sat behind it, documents spread before her. He sat down quietly, took a pen, and signed the final page. It was over.
He looked up at her. No longer fury or strengthonly emptiness and a single question.
Why?
Poppy stared at him for a long moment, the same look she had given him as a newborn.
Twentyfive years ago you walked into that delivery ward and passed judgment. You deemed me an unsuitable asset, a defective product that didnt meet your definition of an heir.
She rose, walked to the floortoceiling window that framed the city skyline.
I didnt seek revenge. I simply reevaluated the assets. Both your company and your sons, and you yourself, failed the stress test. I passed.
She turned back.
You were right about one thing, Father. You needed an heir. You just couldnt see him.
Leaving the building that no longer bore his name, Victor Parker felt lost for the first time in decades. The world where he was the centre of the universe had collapsed. The driver opened the limousine doors, but he waved them away and walked on foot.
He wandered the streets, unnoticed. People recognised him and whispered behind his back. Once those whispers had flattered his ego; now they seemed pitying, mocking, cruel. He had become yesterdays headline.
He returned home late. The huge sitting room greeted him with his wife and two sonsMichael and Edward.
Did you sort that tramp out? his wife asked, tearing herself from a phone call, irritation in her tone. Did you make a deal with her?
She bought everything, Victor replied flatly.
How could she buy everything?! What about us? My accounts are frozen! Do you even understand what youve done?!
Dad, they promised me a new car, Edward interrupted, not looking up from his console. Is it still on?
Michael stared at his father with contempt.
I knew youd blow it, old man.
The family that had served as his showroom and proof of success turned out to be just a group of consumers. The brand Parker Capital vanished, and they showed their true faces.
That night he realised he was bankrupt not only financially but as a person.
The first board meeting of the rebranded company saw Poppy Ormond make a decisive announcement.
From today we are Ormond Industries, she told the senior executives in the conference hall. We are shedding everything that drags us into a toxic past. Our strategy is sustainable growth and innovation. The main asset is people, not expendable material.
She didnt lay off masses. Instead she launched a full audit, exposing the inefficient schemes and greymoney streams her father had built. The old system was ruthless; the new one was fair.
That evening she drove to her mothers house in her modest sedan, not a chauffeurdriven executive car.
What a day? Eleanor asked as she set the dinner on the table.
Turning point, Poppy replied. Ive taken his name off the sign forever.
Eleanor nodded silently.
Regret it? she asked quietly.
For what?
For him. Hes still your father, after all.
Poppy set down her fork.
Hes my biological father. Fatherhood is yours to decide. You taught me the most important thing: to create, not to take; to love, not to use. That will be the ethos of my company.
Six months later Ormond Industries not only survivedit thrived. Poppy attracted new investors, launched successful startups, and founded a corporate fund to support motherentrepreneurs.
Victor Parker was all but forgotten. He divorced his wife, who kept the remnants of their luxury lifestyle. His sons, unable to stand on their own, begged Poppy for money and received a polite but firm refusal from her secretary.
One day Eleanor, strolling in a park, saw him. He sat alone on a bencha typical elderly man in a worn coat, feeding pigeons.
He didnt notice herShe walked past, feeling both sorrow and relief, knowing that the legacy she rebuilt would outlive the man who once tried to own it.
