From the top floor of Shine Corp's hometown branch, the atmosphere had been light and productive—until Kara, sipping her tea near the large office window, squinted down at the gate and stiffened.
"Uh… Jane, Ethan," she called, not taking her eyes off the entrance. "Something's happening downstairs. The guards are holding back a group—looks like a scene."
Ethan moved closer to the window. His brows furrowed as he pulled out his phone and called security. "Let them in," he instructed after a brief conversation. "I'll handle it."
As the visitors were escorted up, Jane slowly stood, sensing something. The moment the door opened, her breath hitched.
There they were.
Her parents. Her siblings. The very people who had turned their backs on her, disowned her for having a child out of wedlock, humiliated her, and worst of all, taken her babies from her with no remorse.
The air grew heavy. Kara froze. Ethan looked at Jane, already reading the hurt etched on her face despite her composed exterior. Silent tears slipped down her cheeks before she turned away swiftly and wiped them with the back of her hand. No one had ever seen Jane cry—until now.
Without a word, she stepped back and left the room, leaving Ethan to face them.
He led them to the chairman's office, where their desperation was laid bare. Their eyes were sunken with stress, their clothes less polished than usual. There was no pride left.
"Please," her father started, voice shaking. "We heard Jane is heading Shine Corp… we're… in trouble. The rival companies are tearing us apart. They exposed us for distributing substandard products, and now suppliers and partners are pulling out. We're on the edge of bankruptcy. We just need help. A little funding. A collaboration, perhaps."
Ethan leaned back in his chair, his face unreadable.
"It's ironic, isn't it?" he said quietly. "You discarded someone who needed your love the most. Now, you come begging at the feet of the same person you buried with your cruelty."
Jane stood outside the door, hearing every word. Her heart was torn—not with pity, but with the weight of history. She didn't need revenge. Life had played its hand for her. Still, part of her waited to see if they'd ask for forgiveness or just seek salvation from her power.
Inside, the silence thickened. Her mother's voice cracked.
"We… were wrong. We know that now. If there's any way we can apologize to Jane… please… let us."
Ethan stood. "Jane doesn't need you anymore. But if you truly want to talk to her, you'll have to face her—not as beggars for help, but as broken parents seeking redemption. I'll let her decide."
He walked to the door, opened it, and met Jane's gaze.
"They're not just here for funding. They're here because they've hit rock bottom. It's your call."
Jane inhaled slowly, her eyes cold but calm.
"Let them wait," she said softly. "For once in their life… they'll have to wait on me."
And with that, she turned and walked down the hallway, heels clicking with dignity, leaving them to sit in the silence of their regret
"You're not going to help them, right?" Kara asked sharply as they walked down the quiet hallway.
Her voice echoed softly, but her tone was firm, protective.
"They caused you so much pain," she added, her arms folded tightly across her chest. "They turned their backs on you when you needed them most."
"I think they should deal with their own mess," Ethan said calmly, but there was a distinct edge to his voice. "They made their choice. Let them live with it."
Jane didn't respond immediately. Her heels clicked steadily on the tiled floor, her face unreadable. But inside, she was weighing it all — the humiliation, the abandonment, the tears she had shed alone in the dark.
They weren't here to make amends. They were here to save their pride.
She glanced sideways at her siblings.
"You both have a fair point," she said finally, her voice cool but composed. "Forgiveness is one thing, but enabling them to escape consequences is another. They never once cared about what happened to me. Not when they kicked me out. Not when they took my children. Not even when I vanished."
They reached the back exit of the building — a quiet, private route used only by executives. Jane paused, adjusted her coat, and took one last glance over her shoulder toward the direction of the boardroom.
"Let them wait," she said softly, but with steel in her tone. "Let them feel a fraction of what it's like to be dismissed, ignored… forgotten."
And with that, the three of them stepped out through the back entrance, the afternoon sun hitting their faces as they walked toward the waiting car — a united front, leaving behind the ghosts of a past that no longer held power over them.
Jane's family waited in vain.
For hours, they sat in the plush reception area of the Shine Corp building, clutching documents and false hopes. Time dragged on, but no one came for them. No word from the receptionist, no call to the boardroom, nothing. Just polite silence and the ticking of the expensive wall clock — a quiet reminder of how powerless they had become.
Eventually, Jane's father, restless and anxious, approached the branch manager, who had been watching them discreetly from a distance.
"Excuse me," he asked, his voice slightly trembling, "what is the relationship between Madam Jane and that young man, Ethan, and the lady who was with them?"
The manager gave a respectful smile. "Oh, Mr. Ethan and Miss Kara? They're her children, sir. Jane is their mother."
The old man froze. His lips parted but no words came out.
His legs gave way beneath him, and he stumbled to a nearby seat, gripping the armrest tightly.
"They… she… she found them?" he whispered in disbelief. "The bastards we… we took away from her… back then?"
The memory hit him like a dagger — how they had dragged her out of the house, a young pregnant girl filled with tears and shame, and how they had covered up the scandal by whisking the babies away, pretending they never existed. They'd convinced themselves it was for her own good. That she'd move on. That she'd never find them again.
But she had.
And now, the children they discarded were standing tall beside her — beautiful, confident, successful. And Jane… the girl they had thrown away like an old coat… was now a powerful CEO whose name was spoken with respect across cities.
One of Jane's sisters leaned over to whisper, "So she raised those kids and built all this? Alone?"
No one answered.
They didn't understand. How could they? They had never tried to. All they saw now was the mountain she had become, while they sat in ruins of their own making — begging for help from the very woman they had destroyed.
"She's not going to help us," her brother muttered bitterly. "Not after what we did."
And for once, no one defended themselves.
Because deep down, they all knew they didn't deserve her mercy.