Chapter 1

Back in my wildest days, I was living large—supporting ten college guys all at once.

But out of all of them, James Sterling was my absolute favorite.

He was born with a weak constitution, so I scoured the globe for miracle doctors to help him get better.

He loved diving, so I bought him an island just to see him smile.

But then, my dad, Logan Shaw, was set up and sent to prison.

Overnight, our family was buried in debt, and countless enemies showed up at our doorstep.

James, who was always sickly and bedridden, suddenly stood in front of my cousin, Emily Shaw, shielding her from harm.

"Who dares harm her?" James' voice was icy and authoritative.

That was when I realized he was actually the sole heir of the Sterling family in Metropolis City, destined to inherit Sterling Holdings.

It turned out that James had been hiding his true identity all along—just so he could stay close to Emily.

And me? In the end, when my family's enemies dragged me off and tormented me until I died, he never once looked my way.

The moment I opened my eyes again, I found myself back on the day I was choosing my college boys for the very first time.

Locking eyes with James' cold, indifferent stare, I gave a dramatic wave of my hand.

"Everyone but him—you're all mine!"

*****

Emily insisted on keeping James with us.

After I said that, she tugged at my sleeve, tears brimming in her eyes, her voice soft and pleading as she begged me.

"Charlotte, this guy is really sick, and he has no one at home to rely on. Please, help him," Emily's voice was choked with emotion as she pleaded.

Seeing her like that, even her nanny, Grace Summers, joined in, trying to convince me.

"Ms. Shaw, show some kindness. Whether you take in one or ten, it's all the same. Just think of it as doing a good deed."

Not even bothering to hide my annoyance, I gave Grace a sharp slap.

"Do I need you telling me how to run things?" I snapped.

When you were about to die, your whole life played out in your mind like a movie reel.

It was only then that I realized I'd been way too easygoing all those years with the Shaw family.

I treated Emily like my own sister, and even went out of my way to respect Grace, her old nanny from back home.

But in the end, I'd handed my heart over to a pack of wolves.

Back in my previous life, after Logan got thrown in jail, I tried to use the properties my mom left behind to buy us a little more time.

But when I checked, the safe where the deeds were kept had already been opened up, and even the gold bars stashed in the basement had vanished without a trace.

It turned out that, somehow, Grace got wind of it and ran off with every last bit of my life-saving assets.

And Emily? The moment she found out who James really was, she cut ties with me on the spot.

The creditors dragged me away.

They tried every trick in the book to force me to pay up.

In the end, they tortured me until I died, then tossed my corpse into the ocean—I vanished without a trace.

Grace froze for a moment, then burst into loud, dramatic sobs, throwing herself on the floor and causing a huge scene like a shrew.

She kept begging Emily to stand up for her, demanding that Emily make things right.

Emily's eyes brimmed with tears as she rushed over and grabbed my hand.

"Charlotte, Grace is an elder. How is she supposed to hold her head up after this?" Emily said, her voice trembling.

She always played the angel—with just a few words, she instantly painted me as the heartless bully picking on the weak and old.

I casually avoided her hand and shot her a cool smile.

"Since you're so compassionate, why not take Grace back to your hometown and look after her yourself?" I said.

After a beat, I pointed at James, standing there with his fists clenched.

"And while you're at it, take him off my hands, too.

"Shouldn't be a problem for someone as kind as you, right?" I added, my tone dripping with sarcasm.

Now that I had a second chance, I wanted nothing to do with James anymore.

He was only here for Emily anyway.

So I'd just let them have each other.

Emily looked where I was pointing, her brow furrowing as she hesitated, clearly unsure how to respond.

This batch of college guys was actually a challenge Logan gave to both me and Emily.

We each had to pick ten students from poor families to sponsor, and after graduation, we'd choose the best one to join the Shaw Corp.

Back then, I let Emily choose her ten first, and then I just picked ten at random from whoever was left.

Now, out of all 30 candidates, the only one left was James—the guy Emily had kicked out first last time around.

James' resume was nothing to write home about.

He didn't have any stellar grades, and there wasn't a single competition win to his name.

And to top it off, he was constantly battling health issues.

Emily was practically begging, her voice barely above a whisper, "Charlotte, your dad said we're supposed to pick ten each..."

She really didn't want to spend a dime or a second on some sickly guy who had no hope of standing out.

Before I could say a word, I saw James coming up behind me, moving slowly and deliberately.

He locked eyes with me, stepping protectively in front of Emily as he spoke, his words slow and clear, "I can get Sterling Holdings to invest."

Then he turned to Emily, and his icy stare instantly softened. "Emily, don't waste your breath on her.

Chapter 1

When I got home from a business trip, I found the water was out. I called the property manager, and when the guy showed up, he looked at me in confusion.

"The water outage was announced in the homeowners' group chat yesterday. You even replied 'Got it'. Did you forget?" he asked.

My heart skipped a beat, and a bad feeling crept over me.

Honestly, my husband and I never joined the homeowners' group chat because it was too much hassle.

After the property manager left, I joined the homeowners' group chat and scrolled through the messages. There was a woman who claimed to be the owner of Unit 1206, chatting nonstop in the group.

But 1206 was my place. If she were the owner, then who the hell was I?

I called my husband, Charles Bennett, right away. He didn't even pause before saying, "Probably just a mistake. There are so many buildings in this complex, so it's easy to mix things up. Want me to remind her to fix it?"

I gave a smile and told him not to bother, that it wasn't a big deal. After hanging up, I immediately used my side account to friend the woman who claimed to be the owner of Unit 1206.

It was only eight in the evening. She accepted my friend request almost instantly.

She texted: [Who's this? What do you want?]

I quickly typed: [Hey, I live right below you. There's been noise coming from your place for a while. Did someone break in or something?]

She replied right away: [I'll come check it out.]

I put my phone away, punched in the password, and walked into my place.

This apartment was near the airport, and Charles and I didn't live here full-time. We only used it as a crash pad when we were on business trips and couldn't make it back to our downtown place.

The place was empty. Charles was at our downtown penthouse.

Not long after, I heard the sharp click of high heels in the hallway. I peeked out and saw a young woman standing at the door. She punched in the password like she owned the place and walked right in.

That settled it. This wasn't just a mix-up with the room number. My gut feeling was spot on.

My phone buzzed again. She replied: [Are you sure you heard right? The water's out today, and no one's home. The noise definitely didn't come from our place.]

I replied with a couple of half-hearted messages, then stepped out from the fire escape and went back into my apartment.

"Who are you? Why are you in my place?" I spoke up first, catching her off guard before she could even process what was happening.

Her face flushed bright red, lips trembling as she stammered, "Y-You must be Charles's wife, right? I'm Nina Lewis. I'm from his hometown.

"Charles said you guys hardly ever stay here and were worried about burglars, so since I work nearby, he asked me to swing by sometimes to check on the place and tidy up a little."

I didn't live here much, but I'd already hired a cleaning service to come regularly. No need for anyone else to get involved.

But I didn't call her out. Instead, I patted her shoulder and smiled. "Thanks so much. It's getting late, so you should head home. I'm gonna get some rest."

Nina nodded and bolted out of there like she was being chased by a ghost.

After she left, I flopped onto the couch and started scrolling through her social media feed.

She had three pinned posts at the top. The first one showed her slender wrist wearing a men's watch.

The caption said: [Just playing around with it.]

I recognized that watch in a heartbeat. It was the one I'd given Charles as a gift.

After I checked the date on the post, I remembered that day I was cleaning out the closet and noticed the watch was gone. Charles told me he'd left it at the office, but turned out he was using it to please some girl.

The second post was tagged from out of town. The caption read: "The hotel walls are so thin. I can't sleep alone.]

When I checked the date, I realized it was my birthday. Charles and I were having a candlelit dinner when he suddenly stood up and told me his company needed him on a business trip right then.

I was a little upset and asked if he could leave tomorrow instead. He frowned at me. "This is for work. Don't be unreasonable."

The third post was a huge bouquet made out of cash. It was so big that Nina could practically disappear inside it.

Judging by the amount, that bouquet must've been worth about 200 grand in cash.

And where did the money come from? Straight out of my supplementary bank card.

Charles really spared no expense for his side chick. He spent 200 grand in cash flowers for his mistress, while all I ever got was a bunch of discount roses from a group buy.

I let out a cold, mocking laugh. Seriously, what was I even thinking falling for Charles such an idiot?

He actually dared to let his side chick crash in my own apartment, like I wouldn't notice or something.

He really thought I was clueless.

Chapter 1

It was ten in the morning at the Riverdale courthouse.

Claire stood in the hallway of the family court, gripping the final decree. The vibrant leather cover felt like cold, dead weight in her palm.

"Claire, is this really what you want?" Michael Landon asked.

He stood before her in a bespoke suit, his Patek Philippe gleaming under the harsh fluorescent lights. His young assistant, Vivian Lynn, stood close behind him in a designer blazer, her diamond ring stinging Claire's eyes.

It was the ring Claire had been eyeing for three years, but never had the heart to buy.

"The settlement's already signed. What's the point of asking now?" Claire's voice was flat, like a dial tone.

Michael narrowed his eyes, unsettled by her composure. "You're walking away from all your shares in Landon Holdings, leaving me the house and the car, and only asking for 150 thousand dollars. Claire, what is this, some kind of noble act?"

"I just don't want anything to do with you," Claire said, her gaze lifting to Vivian behind him. "Your new assistant is very pretty, Mr. Landon."

Vivian paled and instinctively stepped back behind Michael.

"Drop the sarcasm," Michael said, stepping closer, his voice low. "Claire, I admit I've put you through a lot these past three years. But in business, these things happen. Did you really have to take it this far, all the way to divorce?"

"Business?" Claire let out a sharp laugh, pulling a stack of photos from her bag and slamming them down in front of him. "Was it business at those Instagram-worthy traps? Or at those luxury boutiques?

"Michael, while I was drinking myself half to death to land your clients, were you busy with your 'business'?"

The photos spilled across the floor. Every single one showed Michael and Vivian entangled—embracing, kissing, even one taken in the bed they once shared as husband and wife.

People waiting in the hallway for their paperwork turned to look, their attention snapping to the scene.

Michael's face drained of color, then flushed with anger. "You had someone follow me?"

"Do I need to?" Claire bent down, picked up the most damning photo, and tapped it lightly. "You said you were on a business trip last month, but the hotel bill came straight to my phone.

"For three years, your secondary card has been linked to my number. Did you forget?"

Michael went rigid.

Vivian spoke in a low voice, "Mr. Landon, the board is still waiting..."

"Get out!" Michael snapped.

Vivian bit her lip, her eyes brimming with tears.

Claire watched it all unfold, and suddenly it felt absurd.

Three years ago, when Michael's startup collapsed and he was drowning in a million dollars of debt, she sold the house her parents left her and stayed by his side. Now the company was worth billions, and she had become the unreasonable ex-wife everyone dismissed.

"I'm leaving," she said, slipping the divorce decree into her bag and turning away.

"Wait," Michael called after her. "Next week is Grandpa's 80th birthday. You know how much he cares about you. Don't tell him about the divorce yet."

Claire paused, but didn't turn back. "Michael, we're divorced."

"Just this once," his tone softened. "His heart isn't in good shape. He can't handle the shock. After the party, you can announce it however you want."

Claire stood still for a moment.

"Fine," she said at last. "But I'm bringing someone with me."

"Who?" Michael asked.

"You don't need to know," Claire replied.

*****

Rain poured over Riverdale the moment Claire stepped out of the courthouse.

She hadn't brought an umbrella, so she took shelter under the awning, clutching an old suitcase. Inside were a few clothes, some books, and a five-year-old laptop. Everything she owned fit in that battered case.

The 150 thousand dollars had already hit her account—the price of her "nobility" was exactly 150 grand.

A black Maybach pulled up, the window slid down, and Michael leaned out. "Get in. I'll give you a ride."

"No," Claire said flatly.

"Claire, don't make a scene," Michael frowned. "You only have 150 grand. Where will you go? How will you rent a place? You haven't worked in three years. Who would hire you now?"

His words cut deep, hitting exactly where it hurt most.

Three years ago, she was the youngest finance lecturer at the university, with three major publications to her name. She had sacrificed her tenure track for Michael's startup, steadying the helm while he chased his dream. Now, at thirty, she was nothing more than Michael's ex-wife.

"That's my business," Claire said, pulling her suitcase into the rain.

The downpour soaked her hair and clothes instantly. Her white shirt clung to her skin, revealing her fragile frame. In three years, she had lost fifteen pounds to ulcers, insomnia, and anxiety—illnesses Michael dismissed as "rich person's problems."

It was absurd.

The Maybach followed at a crawl, a silent humiliation trailing her every step.

Her phone buzzed. She glanced at the screen—it was an unknown number.

"Hello?" Claire asked.

"Is this Ms. Claire Jennings?" came a refined male voice. "This is Charles Sterling from Starlight Capital. We've reviewed your resume and were wondering if you're available for an interview at three this afternoon. Would that work for you?"

Claire froze.

A resume? She hadn't sent one to anyone.

"Uh, what position is this for?" Claire asked.

"Director of the Investment Department," Charles said. "We can discuss salary and benefits in person. I'll text you the address shortly. I look forward to meeting you."

After the call ended, Claire stood motionless as the rain streamed down her face.

She opened her email and found an unread message from Starlight Capital. The subject line read "Interview Invitation." It was brief and professional, with her resume attached.

It was a resume she had never written.

It detailed every contribution she had made to Landon Holdings over the last three years—financial planning, funding negotiations, team building, even the key projects she had quietly secured for Michael.

The final line read: "Marital Status: Divorced (as of 10 AM today)."

Claire's fingers trembled.

She checked the timestamp—the email had been sent at 3 AM.

That was exactly when she had been packing her suitcase, waiting for the sun to rise so she could finalize the divorce.

At 2:50 PM, Claire arrived at the Starlight Capital building in the heart of the financial district.

She wore a tailored black suit, her hair styled and pulled back, her makeup subtle but sharp. She was still far too thin, but her eyes had regained a certain spark.

The receptionist, a polished young woman, smiled the moment she saw her. "You must be Ms. Jennings. Mr. Sterling is expecting you on the 28th floor."

"Thank you," Claire said.

As the elevator rose, Claire watched her reflection in the mirrored walls.

She couldn't help but remember three years ago, standing in buildings just like this one, trailing Michael as they chased investors—enduring slammed doors, sneers, and cold shoulders.

Back then, Michael had gripped her hand and promised, "Claire, once the company takes off, I'll make you vice president."

Chapter 2

But when the company finally succeeded, it was Vivian who got the title.

The elevator chimed as it reached the 28th floor.

The doors slid open to a vast, modern office. Floor-to-ceiling windows looked out over the Riverdale skyline, where the silver river cut through the city like a silk ribbon.

"Right this way, Ms. Jennings," a young assistant said, stepping forward to greet her.

Claire followed him into a conference room. At the end of the table, a man in his early thirties sat in a light gray suit and gold-rimmed glasses, reviewing a stack of papers.

He heard her footsteps and looked up.

In that moment, Claire's breath caught.

She recognized him immediately.

Five years ago, during the university's centennial, she had been chosen to speak as a distinguished graduate.

A young investor in the audience had challenged her with a sharp question, saying, "Claire, do you believe capital is accountable to profit, or to social responsibility?"

She had answered, "True capital can serve both. They are not mutually exclusive."

After the event, he had handed her a business card and said, "If you ever decide to go into investing, give me a call."

She had taken the card but never used it.

Only a month later, she had met Michael and thrown herself blindly into what she thought was love.

"Charles?" Claire said, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide with a mix of shock and uncertainty.

Charles smiled, stood up, and walked over. "Long time no see, Claire."

He offered his hand, and after a brief hesitation, Claire took it. His grip was warm, dry, and firm.

"Please, have a seat," Charles said, gesturing toward a chair. He poured her a cup of coffee. "Did you have any trouble getting here in the rain?"

"No, it was fine," Claire said, accepting the cup. Steam curled around her fingers. "Mr. Sterling, about that resume..."

"I had someone put it together for you," Charles said frankly. "Word has gotten around the industry regarding your work at Landon Holdings over the last three years. Most people just don't realize you were the real mastermind behind those major deals."

Claire's fingers tightened around her cup.

Charles continued, "Last year, when Michael was about to lose that renewable energy deal because the other party backed out at the last second, you flew a red-eye and saved it with an entirely new proposal.

"The year before that, when Landon's financing collapsed, you found a breakthrough, brought in a government-backed investor, and made the IPO possible."

"And," Charles paused, "just last month, when Landon Holdings was nearly exposed in a fraud scandal, you used every connection you had to contain the fallout."

Claire's head snapped up, her eyes wide. "How do you know about that?"

Only she and Michael were supposed to know about the fraud. Or rather, she knew, while Michael remained under the impression that she was completely in the dark.

Vivian had cooked up that ten-million-dollar fake account, and Michael had signed off on it, thinking Claire would never find out.

"I have my channels," Charles replied, adjusting his glasses. "Claire, I didn't call you here because I pity your divorce, and I'm not trying to steal you away from Michael. I truly need someone with your talent."

He opened a file and slid it across the table toward her.

"Starlight Capital is launching a new fund focused on women-led startups. I need someone who understands the mechanics of capital—and the reality of what women face," Charles said.

Locking eyes with her, he added, "The base salary is a million dollars, plus bonuses and equity. You'll lead your own team and build the entire investment system from scratch. It won't be easy."

Claire traced the embossed gold letters on the offer letter with her fingertips.

"Why me?" she asked. "Riverdale is full of top-tier investors."

"Because they only care about numbers, while you care about people," Charles replied. "I still remember your speech from five years ago. You said capital should recognize human worth, not just asset value."

He stood up and walked over to the window. "Claire, you have two paths. One: take your 150 grand, rent a studio, find a mediocre job, and let those three years fade into nothing.

"Or two: take this role, and make the people who dismissed you come begging for your partnership one day."

Outside, the rain had stopped, and sunlight pierced through the breaking clouds.

Claire caught her reflection in the glass—pale-faced and poised, the light in her eyes burning brighter with every passing second.

She picked up the pen and signed the offer letter.

Her signature was so sharp it nearly tore the paper.

"So, when do I start?" Claire asked.

"Right now," Charles said with a grin, hitting the intercom. "Tell everyone in the investment department to head to Conference Room One. I want them to meet their new director."

An hour later, Claire stood at the front of Conference Room One.

Twenty young faces stared back at her, their expressions a mix of curiosity, scrutiny, and a faint, poorly hidden contempt. An outsider parachuted into a director role, and Michael's ex-wife, no less. The skepticism was palpable.

"Hello, everyone. I'm Claire," she said, her voice steady. "As of today, I am heading Starlight Capital's 'Her Power' Fund. Our initial fundraising target is 300 million dollars, and we will focus on three key sectors: female-driven consumer goods, health tech, and professional services."

A hand went up. "Claire, as far as I'm aware, you've never managed a fund independently. What makes you think you can hit a 300-million goal?"

The question was blunt.

Claire looked at the young man and smiled. "Because the annual female consumer market is worth over 300 billion dollars, yet less than five percent of investment reaches women-led startups.

"Because I understand the support a mother needs to re-enter the workforce, the pressure a single woman feels when buying a home, and the resources a female student lacks when launching a business."

She paused. "And because I just got divorced and left with nothing. I know better than anyone what it takes for a woman to stand back up after losing everything."

The room fell silent for a heartbeat.

Then, someone started clapping. It began with a few hesitant hands, but the applause grew until everyone was on their feet, giving her a standing ovation.

Charles leaned against the doorway, joining in with soft, approving applause.

After the meeting, Claire retreated to her new office.

Charles followed her in and handed her a folder. "Here is your first mission. Next week is the 80th birthday celebration for the elder Mr. George Landon, and Michael plans to announce his engagement to Vivian during the party."

Claire's fingers clenched.

Charles said, his gaze fixed on her, "At the party, Landon Holdings will launch a luxury jewelry line called 'Vivian's Smile.' They've brought in European designers and are looking to raise 100 million.

"Your job? Announce the 'Her Power' Fund at that same event—and steal every investor they have lined up."

Claire opened the folder, skimming the party details, the guest list, and the business plan for the new brand.

"How did you get this?" she asked quietly.

"Landon's marketing director quit last month; he's on my payroll now," Charles replied with a faint smile. "Business is war, Claire. If you show mercy, they won't."

Claire snapped the folder shut.

"I understand," she said. "I'll do it."

Outside, the setting sun bathed the city in gold. In the distance, the Landon Holdings tower gleamed—the place where she had poured three years of her life into someone else's dream.

Claire picked up her phone and dialed a number.

"Susan, it's me," she said. "I need a favor. For the Landon party next Wednesday, I need a date. Someone so dazzling that Michael won't know what hit him."

Susan Young laughed on the other end. "Look at you, Claire! One day post-divorce and already plotting. Don't worry, I'll find someone perfect to make him eat his heart out."

After hanging up, Claire walked to the window.

Her reflection looked back—calm, determined, with a cold fire in her eyes.

Michael was planning an engagement announcement.

She would make him watch. He would watch how brightly the woman he threw away could shine.

Her phone buzzed with a message from Michael: [Grandpa's birthday is next Wednesday, 7 PM, at the Grandview. Dress appropriately. Don't embarrass the family.]

Claire read it and slowly typed her reply: [Relax. I promise you'll remember this night for the rest of your life.]

She hit send, then blocked him.

Setting the phone aside, she opened her laptop and got to work.

The real battle had just begun.

Chapter 3

The Grandview Hotel was awash in the brilliant glow of crystal chandeliers.

To celebrate George's 80th birthday, the entire ballroom had been reserved. The city's business elite milled about in their finest attire, the air heavy with the scent of expensive perfume and the constant chime of clinking crystal.

Michael stood at the entrance in a bespoke suit, Vivian on his arm, greeting guests with a smile so practiced it looked painted on.

Vivian was radiant. She wore a shimmering Elie Saab gown, and around her neck hung the Landon family's heirloom emerald necklace—the same one George had placed around Claire's neck on her wedding day.

"Mr. Landon, Ms. Lynn, congratulations!" A real estate mogul approached with a glass in hand, his gaze lingering on Vivian. "You two truly are a perfect match."

"Thank you, Mr. Grant," Michael replied, clinking glasses while his eyes drifted toward the entrance.

It was already 7:10, and Claire was nowhere to be seen.

Was she really not coming, or was she plotting something? A trace of unease crept into Michael's mind.

"Michael, what are you looking for?" Vivian leaned in, her voice thick with practiced sweetness. "Don't tell me you're still thinking about Claire?"

Michael pulled his gaze back, his tone cool. "Don't be ridiculous."

"I'm not being ridiculous," Vivian whispered, sounding wounded. "Claire was so aggressive at the courthouse; I haven't slept for nights. If she shows up and makes a scene at an event this important..."

"She wouldn't dare," Michael snapped, though he couldn't shake the nagging anxiety.

Claire had changed. She used to be as docile as a rabbit, but now she felt like a blade unsheathed—sharp and dangerous.

By the entrance, a black Rolls-Royce glided to a stop.

The door opened, and a pair of red high heels stepped onto the carpet. The slender heels looked as sharp and dangerous as a blade.

Claire stepped out of the car.

She wore a vivid red floor-length gown, embroidered with a golden phoenix spreading its wings. The high slit revealed her slender, toned legs, and her hair was pinned in a retro updo with an emerald brooch—a keepsake from her mother.

She wore no jewelry, save for the Patek Philippe watch on her left wrist.

It had been a wedding gift from Michael. Back then, he had told her, "Claire, when the company goes public, I'll buy you something even better."

When the company went public, he bought Vivian a full set of diamonds instead.

"Ms. Jennings, this way, please," a waiter said, bowing respectfully as he led the way.

Claire gave a slight nod and took the arm of the man at her side.

He wore a navy suit, standing tall and poised. His features were sharply defined with a hint of an ambiguous, mixed heritage, but his eyes were his most striking feature—amber irises that glowed like liquid honey under the lights.

"Nervous?" the man asked, his low voice carrying a magnetic hint of amusement.

"Me?" Claire glanced up at him. "They're the ones who should be nervous."

The man grinned. "I like this side of you."

His name was Alexander Rivers, the "surprise" Susan had arranged.

He was twenty-seven, an Ivy League math PhD, and the youngest partner at a top-tier global investment bank. He had returned only last month to take over his family's private equity firm.

He was so perfect he felt almost unreal.

But Claire didn't care about his pedigree. She only needed a date who could steal the spotlight, and Alexander was dazzling, almost to a fault.

The moment they stepped into the hall, the room fell silent.

A sea of eyes turned toward them—some shocked, some intrigued, and others merely hungry for a scene.

Michael's smile died on his face.

He stared at Claire, her arm linked with Alexander's, taking in the defiant red of her dress and the cold calm in her eyes. His chest tightened as if caught in a vice, making every breath a struggle.

How dare she?

How dare she dressed like that?

How dare she show up with another man?

Vivian's expression curdled. She had spent two hours on her transformation, yet the moment Claire arrived, she was invisible. That gown, that poise, that effortless elegance—it was a grace that no amount of money could ever replicate.

"C-Claire, you're here," Vivian said, forcing a smile that didn't reach her trembling voice.

Claire walked toward them, a faint, sharp smile playing on her lips. "I wouldn't dream of missing George's birthday."

She took a glass of champagne from a passing waiter and raised it toward Michael. "Mr. Landon, congratulations on the wedding."

She voiced the word "wedding" with crystal clarity, letting it ring through the sudden silence of the room.

Michael's face darkened. "Claire, what is that supposed to mean?"

"Exactly what I said," Claire replied, taking a sip of her champagne. "Why, Mr. Landon? Am I not welcome?"

Whispers began to ripple through the crowd.

"Is that Michael's ex-wife? I thought she was some dowdy housewife."

"Dowdy? She looks like a goddess."

"Who's the guy with her? He's stunning."

"I think that's the Rivers heir. He just returned from overseas."

As the gossip reached Michael, a vein throbbed at his temple. He lowered his voice. "Claire, don't push it. This is Grandpa's birthday. If you're here to cause a scene, at least show some restraint."

"Me? Causing trouble?" Claire laughed, her voice quiet but sharp enough for those nearby to hear. "Mr. Landon, you brought your mistress into the family and announced an engagement at your grandfather's birthday. Tell me, who is really making a scene?"

"You—" Michael was so incensed he moved as if to raise his hand.

Alexander stepped forward, shielding Claire. He stood half a head taller than Michael, his amber eyes cold. "Mr. Landon, it's hardly a good look to lay a hand on a lady, is it?"

The air in the room turned brittle. Every guest seemed to hold their breath.

"What is everyone crowding around for?" A commanding, elderly voice rang out.

The crowd parted as George was wheeled into the room. He wore a custom-tailored silk smoking jacket, his hair silver, but his eyes remained sharp and full of life. His gaze swept over Michael and Vivian before finally settling on Claire.

"Claire, you're here," George said gently. "Why are you standing out here? Come, keep me company for a while."

"George," Claire said, letting go of Alexander's arm to kneel beside the wheelchair. "To a remarkable life and many more years of joy."

She took a slim velvet case from her bag and opened it, revealing an antique silver letter opener with a hand-carved handle. "I had this sourced for you. Since you appreciate fine craftsmanship, I thought you might find a use for it in your study."

George picked up the silver piece and examined it closely. The blade was engraved with "Eighty Years of Excellence," and on the inner side, in tiny, elegant script, it read: "For George, with love, Claire."

George's eyes suddenly brimmed with emotion.

"Good, very good..." He gripped Claire's hand, his voice thick. "Claire, this family has failed you."

"George, please don't say that," Claire said softly. "It simply wasn't meant to be."

Claire kept her tone graceful, but no one missed the subtext—this wasn't about fate; it was about betrayal.

Vivian stood off to the side, her face pale. She had brought a diamond-encrusted watch worth hundreds of thousands as her gift, but next to that thoughtful, bespoke antique, it looked transactional and cheap.

Michael's expression grew even darker.

"Claire, who's this?" George asked, looking at Alexander.

"This is my friend, Alexander Rivers," Claire introduced him. "Alexander, this is Mr. George Landon."

Alexander stepped forward and gave a polite nod. "Mr. Landon, it's an honor. My father, Richard Rivers, asked me to convey his warmest regards."

"Richard Rivers?" George's eyes lit up. "You're Richard's son? How is that old rogue doing these days?"

"My father's doing well. He mentioned he'd like to visit you himself sometime soon," Alexander replied

(on snackread)

Kidnapped at three and returned home at eighteen, she finally believed she belonged somewhere.

But what awaited her wasn't family love; it was the endless scheming of the fake heiress who'd lived with them for fifteen years, the cold disgust in her brother's eyes, and a dismissive, "You're nothing but a thankless stray."

All because the fake heiress "broke her leg," she didn't even get a chance to explain herself before her own brother dragged her straight to Verdant Hill Mental Health Facility, the scariest place in town.

Two years. Seven hundred and thirty days.

She was loaded with tranquilizers, electrocuted until she lost consciousness, forced headfirst into toilets, and left to starve in pitch-black rooms until she began hallucinating; she nearly died.

Everyone thought she'd rot there, but she walked out alive.

When she came back to the Ralph family, she wasn't that timid girl anymore, no more tiptoeing around, serving tea, or trying to please everyone.

If anyone dared mess with her stuff, she'd wreck all their treasures. If they wanted her dead, she'd drag them straight to hell with her.

They said she was crazy.

Yeah, she was crazy.

*****

They were the ones who turned that little girl, desperate for family, into what she was now.

In the end, everyone who wronged her got their karma, and those who owed her ended up on their knees, sobbing and begging for forgiveness.

But she just turned around and walked away, never once looking back.

After all, when she had clawed her way out of hell, she didn't care for the sunlight that finally decided to show up.

The windshield wipers swept across the glass, smearing the rain outside into a hazy veil. Zora Ralph sat in the passenger seat, a deep brown scar on the back of her hand, a mark left from last winter, when an attendant at Verdant Hill Mental Health Facility burned her with a stun gun. Sometimes she'd just stare at that scar, thinking that in two years, she'd ended up with more scars than all the stars she'd ever counted in her eighteen years.

"Zora," Winston Ralph called softly.

He tightened his grip on the steering wheel, glancing sideways at her. His suit cuffs were rolled up, and there was still ink smeared on his forearm from signing papers at Verdant Hill Mental Health Facility. He opened his mouth, wanting to say something, but finally just said, "When we get home... whatever happens, don't let it get to you. I got your back."

Zora stayed silent, head bowed, her lashes lowered as she stared at the scar on the back of her hand.

The rain outside hammered against the window, sharp and relentless, just like the rattling sound of attendants pounding on her door in the dead of night at Verdant Hill Mental Health Facility.

She never told Winston she'd stopped having nightmares a long time ago.

It wasn't that she'd healed; she'd simply learned to live with it.

The Ralph family had been searching for her for fifteen years.

She was kidnapped at three, spent two years in an orphanage, and then was "adopted" by a couple, but they just treated her like free labor. She'd eaten leftovers from trash cans and slept on cardboard under bridges. When the Ralph family finally found her at eighteen, she learned for the first time that she actually had a home.

But when she finally returned, there was no place for her anymore.

Jane Ralph, the adopted daughter, had stolen Zora's place for fifteen years, pampered by the Ralph family's two sons as if she were their little princess. Meanwhile, Zora, the real daughter, was treated like a stranger in her own home.

Zora had tried. She really had.

She tiptoed around, always trying to please, keeping her head down and avoiding eye contact. She'd serve tea and water to Jane, listen to her call her "sis" in that syrupy voice, and then watch as Jane tossed her freshly washed clothes onto the floor and "accidentally" stomped on them a couple of times.

After just three months, Jane orchestrated a whole scheme. She claimed Zora had people bully her and pushed her down the stairs, breaking her leg.

Her big brother, Jacob Ralph, didn't even let her get a word in before he personally dragged her to Verdant Hill Mental Health Facility. Before leaving, he even told the director, "Keep her in line. Don't let her out to hurt anyone again."

Behind the scenes, Jane secretly paid the director over a million dollars to make sure Zora got "special treatment."

Seven hundred and thirty days.

Electroshocks, drugged up, locked in pitch-black rooms, getting jumped by other patients, attendants dunking her head in toilets.

She went from crying and trying to defend herself, to going silent, and finally she fought back and made sure every bully in Verdant Hill Mental Health Facility learned to fear her. The director was terrified she'd end up killing someone, so he practically got on his knees, bawling and begging the Ralph family to take her back.

She didn't come back hoping they'd welcome her.

The black Bentley pulled up in front of the Ralph villa. Warm, golden light poured through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting a gentle glow over the rain.

This was where her blood family lived.

Zora pushed open the car door, popped up a black umbrella, and stepped into the rain. Her washed-out cotton dress stuck to her legs in the wind, her ankles so delicate they looked like they might snap at the slightest pressure. Still, her steps were steady, each one firm as she made her way up the red carpet to the door

Chapter 1

For five years, I laid black roses on my fiancé's empty grave.

Today, I found him buying ice cream for his five-year-old son.

I froze on the sidewalk outside Silverwood Kindergarten.

Three feet away, the man who supposedly burned to death was wiping chocolate from a little boy's chin.

Then, the boy's mother walked up.

My best friend, Chloe. The woman who had "died" right beside him.

She laughed, her arms wrapping easily around his neck. He turned his head and kissed her.

The sharp, territorial scent of a mated pair hit me, stealing the air from my lungs.

There was no guilt in their eyes. Just a happy family.

"Liam," I said. My voice came out dead calm.

Liam spun around. The ice cream cone slipped from his numb fingers, splattering onto the boiling pavement.

His eyes flashed a panicked gold.

"Evelyn," he choked out, stumbling back. "This isn't—"

"What it looks like?" I finished, my expression completely dead.

Chloe smirked, her fingers tightening around his arm. She looked me up and down, taking in my faded black mourning dress.

"It's exactly what it looks like," Chloe sneered. "He's my fated mate, Evie. The Moon Goddess chose us."

*Fated mate.*

The fire. The closed-casket funeral.

The five years I spent living as a ghost, blaming myself for the rogue attack that took them.

"You faked your deaths," I whispered, the realization turning my blood to ice.

"We had to," Liam stepped forward, his panic turning to arrogance. "You're just a weak, wolf-less human, Evelyn. I needed a real Luna."

"So I gave him a pureblood heir," Chloe stroked the little boy's dark hair. "Look at him. He's five years old. He has Liam's exact jawline."

Five years old.

That meant they were sleeping together long before the fire.

Long before my birthday. While I was picking out wedding invitations, they were planning to ruin me.

"And my adoptive parents?" I asked quietly, my heart turning to stone.

Liam's face hardened. The man I loved for a decade was gone.

"They knew," Liam said. "They helped us move to the West Coast. They love Chloe. She gave them the Alpha grandson you never could."

My breath hitched.

My entire family. Every single one of them had watched me grieve. They had watched me shatter into a million pieces, and they had actively protected the two people holding the hammer.

I reached behind my neck.

I unclasped the silver mourning locket I had worn for five years. The one with his initials.

I let it drop from my fingers.

The heavy metal hit the puddle of melting ice cream, sinking into the dirt where it belonged.

"What are you doing?" Liam growled, a low, warning rumble vibrating deep in his chest. "Don't make a scene, Evelyn. Your parents chose us. You have no pack. Without my protection, you are nothing in this city."

I turned my back on them.

"Walk away and you are exiled!" Liam barked. He pushed his Alpha aura onto me, trying to force me to my knees. "You'll have nothing!"

I didn't pause. I didn't look back. I didn't kneel.

I walked straight past the school gates, leaving the ghosts behind.

I didn't stop until I hit the shadows of an empty alley. My chest burned. My hands shook so hard I couldn't feel my fingers.

I pressed my back against the cold brick wall.

Five years. I had built an entire life around a grave that was empty. I had worn black until it became a second skin. I had turned down job opportunities, turned down friendships, turned down every small piece of happiness that tried to push through the cracks—because it had felt wrong to be happy when he was dead.

He wasn't dead.

He had just decided I wasn't worth the truth.

I closed my eyes. I let that sit in my chest for exactly three seconds.

Then, my phone buzzed in my pocket.

A text from an unknown number lit up the cracked screen.

*Miss Evelyn, the Alpha King requests your presence. A black Maybach is waiting at the end of the block. — Silas.*

I stared at the glowing words.

The Alpha King.

Victor Volkov.

The most ruthless Alpha in North America. A man who could wipe Liam’s entire bloodline off the map.

The man I had never met

Chapter 1

The September wind carried a hint of chill, making Elise's eyes feel dry and sore.

Elise stood at the entrance of the Civil Hall, the maroon divorce certificate in her hand felt paper-thin, but weighed on her like three years of marriage, every inch digging into her palm, making it hurt.

Gavin stood beside her, his suit crisp, his gaze cool and indifferent. He hadn't shown a single emotion from start to finish, as if today was just another formality, not the end of their marriage.

"Hold onto it. Don't lose it," Gavin said.

Elise looked down at the divorce certificate and suddenly felt like laughing.

Three years ago, when they registered their marriage, it was also another weekday.

Back then, she wore a cream-colored dress, her hair draped over her shoulders. Gavin held her bag. After the photos were taken, he leaned in and said, "From now on, you're Mrs. Wright."

She thought that was a promise.

But later, she realized it was nothing more than an announcement.

She put the divorce certificate into her bag, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don't worry. I won't lose it."

Gavin glanced at her, as if he wanted to say something, but in the end, he said coolly, "Mom's not in a good mood. Go back today and pack up your things.

"The house stays with me, the car was mine before we got married, and I'll have my assistant send you 30,000 dollars from the account."

30,000 dollars.

Elise felt a sharp pain in her chest.

Three years of marriage, and that's all it amounted to a number.

For three years, she'd been the model daughter-in-law in the Wright family, taking care of Gavin's sensitive stomach, trying to win over Alina Wright, her mother-in-law, who was impossible to please, and managing things at home when Gavin was swamped with his startup.

She'd even sold the gold bracelet her mother left her to fill a financial gap in his company.

She never thought she'd have to tally up everything between husband and wife.

But now, at the point of divorce, Gavin was more meticulous than anyone when it came to dividing things.

"I don't need that money," Elise said.

Gavin knitted his brows. "Elise, don't be stubborn."

"I'm not being stubborn," Elise said, lifting her gaze to him, her eyes so calm it felt almost strange to herself. "I think it's not enough."

The wind swept by, and for a brief moment, Gavin's cool facade finally cracked.

In Gavin's memory, Elise had always been soft-spoken and meek. Even when she was deeply hurt, she'd just say, "Forget it," with teary eyes.

He never imagined that on the day of their divorce, she'd so effortlessly break the facade they'd kept up.

"What do you mean?" Gavin asked.

"What I mean is," Elise said, her lips curling into a faint, bitter smile, "Gavin, you cheated, you hid assets, kept things ambiguous with Brooke Trudeau while we were still married.

"Now you want to throw 30,000 dollars at me and call it quits. Do you think I'm that easy to push around?"

Gavin's face darkened.

"Watch your words. It's strictly professional between Brooke and me," he said.

Elise shot back, "Strictly professional? Does that include texting you at one in the morning: Gavin, my stomach hurts. Can you come over and keep me company?

"Is that what you call strictly professional? Sharing a hotel bathrobe during your company retreat?

"Or maybe 'strictly professional' means even lipstick stains on your collar are business now?"

Her voice stayed low, but each line was steadier than the last.

Gavin stared at her, his gaze turning icy. "Are you spying on me?"

"I didn't have to," Elise replied. "You never bothered to cover it up."

For a moment, Gavin fell silent.

It wasn't guilt. It was the impatience of someone who's been exposed and wants to move on.

Elise recognized that look instantly. For three years, whenever she asked too many questions or cared a little too much, Gavin would give her that same dismissive stare, as if she were some naive, inconvenient woman who never knew her place.

"We're already divorced. There's no point in bringing this up now," Gavin said.

"Yeah, we're divorced," Elise nodded. "So I can finally say what I want, and not care if it pisses you off."

Gavin pressed his lips together, about to speak, when his phone suddenly rang.

The caller ID flashed: Mom.

He answered, and before he could get a word in, Alina's piercing voice blared from the other end.

"Are the papers done yet? If they're finished, hurry up and bring that woman back. Her junk is cluttering up the house. It's an eyesore.

"And make sure she hands over my pearl necklace. I've been searching for it forever. Don't tell me she's planning to walk off with Wright family stuff now that the divorce is final."

The entrance of the Civil Hall wasn't exactly quiet, but Alina's voice was so loud that, even with the phone pressed to Gavin's ear, Elise could hear every word.

Gavin instinctively glanced at her.

Elise kept her expression flat and looked away.

"Mom, that's enough," Gavin said.

"Enough? Why should I be quiet? Three years, and she couldn't even have a kid for us, but she acted like she owned the title of Mrs. Wright. Now that she's out, it's for the best. Brooke's got everything she doesn't, familyband talent..."

The call kept going.

Elise was done listening.

She walked away from Gavin, heading down the steps. Her steps were steady, never faltering.

Behind her, Gavin's voice followed, low and harsh, but the wind blurred his words, leaving them indistinct.

Chapter 2

Elise suddenly remembered the winter two years ago.

She was burning up with a fever of 102°F, chilled to the bone under the covers. Alina stood at the doorway for half an hour, yelling at her because the soup didn't suit her taste. She accused Elise of "pretending to be sick to slack off" and sneered, "People from humble backgrounds are always so sensitive."

Gavin was also home that day.

He heard it all but said lightly, "Mom's getting old. Just give her a break."

She'd been putting up with it for three years.

And now, after all that, she was left with nothing.

At the bottom of the steps, a shiny black Bentley was parked, drawing attention. People coming and going at the Civil Hall couldn't help but steal a few glances.

Elise saw it, too, but didn't pay it any mind.

It wasn't until the back door of the car was pushed open from the inside and a well-dressed middle-aged woman stepped out. When her eyes landed on Elise, her eyes instantly grew misty.

That look was really unusual.

It was like she'd been suppressing her feelings for years, and now, after finally seeing Elise, she couldn't tear her eyes away.

Elise paused, caught off guard, and instinctively stopped walking.

Then, the other car door swung open.

A man in his fifties got out, tall and steady, carrying the aloofness of someone used to being in charge. But as he looked at Elise, the icy look in his eyes softened, little by little.

There was also a young man, probably twenty-seven or twenty-eight, wearing a black shirt and sporting sharp, deep-set features. He stood by the car, his gaze locked on Elise, his eyes holding a mix of emotions she couldn't quite decipher.

Elise frowned.

She was certain she'd never seen them before.

The middle-aged woman hurried up to Elise, her eyes brimming with tears that spilled over in an instant.

"Elise..." she called softly.

Her voice was gentle, as if weighed down by twenty years of hardship and longing, the last syllable trembling with emotion.

Elise was stunned.

It was rare for anyone to call her by that name.

She was an adopted daughter.

Her adoptive mother used to call her Little Elise, but after she married into the Wright family, everyone called her Elise or Gavin's wife.

"Maybe you've mistaken me for someone else," Elise said, taking a small step back, her voice polite but distant.

The woman looked like she'd been stabbed by Elise's words. Her eyes reddened even more, and she quickly shook her head. "I'm not mistaken, I'm not... Do you have a tiny red mole under your left collarbone?

"When you went missing as a child, you were wearing a pale yellow dress with a little bunny embroidered on it, and a silver bell on your right wrist..."

Elise's breath suddenly hitched.

There was a tiny red mole beneath her left collarbone.

She had no memory of that pale yellow dress.

But that silver bell, she remembered it clearly.

When her adoptive mother took her in, the bell was already on her wrist. As it grew old and broken, her adoptive mother carefully tucked it away in a wooden box, promising to tell Elise where it came from once she was grown.

But before that day ever arrived, her adoptive mother fell ill and never got the chance.

Elise's fingertips turned icy, her voice tense as she asked, "Who... Who are you guys, really?"

The woman opened her mouth, her tears falling harder and harder. It was like so many words were stuck in her throat, she couldn't get a single one out.

Finally, the middle-aged man spoke up.

His voice was deep and restrained, with a barely noticeable tremor in it.

"I'm Jeffery Schmitt," he said. "And she's Alieen Schmitt.

"Elise, we're your birth parents."

Out of nowhere, the wind kicked up.

The gusts buzzed in Elise's ears.

In that instant, Elise stood frozen, feeling like someone had hit pause on the whole world.

Fresh out of the Civil Hall with her divorce papers, Elise had just walked out of a messy marriage, and her ex-mother-in-law had called to tear her down, making her feel worthless.

Then, someone stood before her and said...

"You're not someone nobody wants."

"You were just lost, for a very long time."

Elise's eyes grew misty in an instant.

But she didn't cry.

She just clung to the strap of her bag like it was the only thing keeping her afloat, her voice barely more than a whisper.

"Impossible..."

Her first reaction wasn't excitement. It was just ridiculous.

It was way too much to take in.

At her absolute lowest, someone suddenly told her she actually had a whole other life she never even knew about.

It felt just like a dream.

But when a dream was too good, it didn't feel real.

"I know it's hard to believe right now," Alieen said, wiping her tears, her hands shaking. "It's okay. We can do a paternity test, and we can show you all the proof. Elise, we've been searching for you for twenty-five years. We never once gave up..."

"Twenty-five years?" Elise repeated, her voice barely above a whisper, like she couldn't even process the number.

"Yes," Jeffery said, his eyes aching with sorrow as he looked at her. "You went missing at the Ventris Train Station when you were two. After that, we searched everywhere.

"All these years, your mom has gone back to Ventris every single year. On your birthday, she's never dared to celebrate, because she never knew if you were doing okay, or even if you were still alive."

Alieen couldn't hold back anymore. She covered her mouth and started crying her heart out.

Elise stood frozen, like someone had punched her right in the chest. The ache was so deep, she could barely breathe.

Chapter 3

Elise had always believed she was unwanted, left behind by everyone.

That's why, ever since she was a kid, she tried to be the perfect child. She was scared to bother anyone, scared people would hate her, scared that if she wasn't perfect, she'd be abandoned all over again.

Why did she stick it out for three whole years in the Wright family?

Because deep down, she always thought she was never the kind of person anyone would choose to stay with.

But now, someone was telling her that wasn't true.

It wasn't that they didn't want her.

They lost her, and had been searching for her for so many years.

"Elise?" Gavin called out.

Somehow, Gavin had hung up and walked over, catching her off guard.

His gaze flicked past Jeffery's Bentley, then settled on the group. He frowned, clearly confused and trying to figure out what was going on.

"Who are they?" he asked.

Elise parted her lips, but for a second, she was lost for words.

Alieen turned to Gavin, her eyes still wet with tears, but her expression had turned cold.

"You're her husband?" she asked.

Gavin paused, then corrected, "Ex-husband."

The word landed in the air like a pinprick, sharp and sudden.

Alieen's face went pale, as if she'd only noticed the divorce papers in Elise's hand.

She glanced down, and her eyes filled with tears again.

"You... got divorced today?" Alieen asked, her voice trembling.

Elise was silent for a moment, then nodded.

Alieen's hand clenched so tightly that her pale knuckles turned bluish.

She'd spent twenty-five years searching for her daughter, and now, their first meeting was outside the Civil Hall, of all places.

Elise should've grown up cherished and protected, proud, shining, and carefree.

But instead, she stood there pale, her eyes red from crying, having ended a marriage that nearly broke her.

Jeffery's gaze darkened.

"Mr. Wright," he said, his voice calm but icy, "looks like my daughter didn't have it easy with you these past few years."

Gavin's expression changed.

"Daughter?" he blurted out, instinctively looking at Elise, as if he was realizing something. "You mean she's..."

"She's the Schmitt family's daughter," the young man who'd been silent finally spoke up, his voice low and cold. "Their biological daughter."

For the first time, Gavin's gaze truly landed on Elise.

As if she were a stranger to him now.

Elise stood there, her hands and feet icy cold, her mind a total mess, but in that moment, she felt it with crystal clarity...

It was over between her and Gavin.

It wasn't because of the divorce papers.

It was because, from today on, she finally let go for good.

Gavin stood there in silence for what felt like ten whole seconds.

People were coming and going outside the Civil Hall, throwing curious looks their way, but Gavin didn't seem to notice. He just stared at Elise, as if searching her face for a sign that this was all a joke.

But Elise just stood there quietly, not explaining anything, not jumping in to cover for him like she always did before.

She was exhausted.

She was so exhausted that even her shock felt muted.

"Elise," Gavin finally spoke, his voice low and heavy. "What's going on?"

"I just found out myself," she replied.

It was the truth.

Right now, she felt like she was walking on clouds, her feet never touching the ground. Her whole life for the past twenty-five years had been a single thread.

Now, someone had ripped it right down the middle, revealing a whole new layer she never even knew existed.

Jim Schmitt shot Gavin a cold, unapologetic look, his gaze full of scrutiny.

"Mr. Wright, you and my sister are already divorced. There's no need for her to go into detail with you about anything," he said.

Sister.

That word made Elise's heart skip a beat.

It felt so unfamiliar.

And somehow, it made her throat tighten, a strange ache rising inside.

Gavin clearly wasn't used to being challenged like this. His frown deepened. "I'm talking to her."

"Then you'd better mind your boundaries," Jim said, stepping forward to stand protectively beside Elise. "You don't have the right to ask her anything anymore."

The air instantly grew tense.

Alieen, worried she might overwhelm Elise, quickly reined in her emotions and spoke softly, "Elise, don't be nervous. If you don't want to talk about it today, we can take you wherever you want to go. We'll talk about everything else once you've had a chance to rest."

Those words felt like they finally gave Elise a moment to breathe.

She nodded, her voice a little hoarse. "I need to go back to the Wrights' place and grab my stuff first."

"That's not necessary," Gavin suddenly spoke up.

Everyone turned to look at him.

He fixed his gaze on Elise, his expression more tangled than before, trying to stay composed, but one could see the reluctance in his eyes. "I'll have my assistant collect your stuff and drop it off for you later."

Elise gave a faint, almost indifferent smile.

"No, thanks," she replied.

"Elise..." Gavin started.

"I'll take care of my own stuff," she interrupted, her tone cool. "I need to walk out of the Wrights' door myself, just this once."

Her words weren't heavy, but Gavin's throat tightened.

He suddenly remembered. Three years ago, Elise had first moved into the Wright family on an evening just like this.

Chapter 4

Elise stood at the door in a plain knit dress, a small suitcase in her hand. She flashed him a bright smile, her eyes sparkling. "Is this going to be my home from now on?"

What did he say to her back then?

He said, "Of course."

But later, no one in that house ever truly saw her as the real lady of the house.

Not even him.

On the ride back to the Wright family, Elise sat in the back seat, watching the street scenes blur past the window, but none of it registered with her.

Alieen sat beside her, trying a few times to reach for her hand, but always pulling back, worried it would be too forward. In the end, she said softly, "We'll wait for you outside, okay?"

Elise looked up at her.

Alieen clearly took good care of herself, but the fine lines at the corners of her eyes couldn't hide her exhaustion, like she hadn't slept well in years.

Her mind suddenly drifted to her adoptive mother.

When her adoptive mother was gravely ill, she always looked at Elise that way, wanting to reach out and touch her face, but afraid it would upset her, so she'd act like everything was fine and ask if she was hungry.

Elise's heart ached, and she murmured a soft "mm."

The car pulled up outside the Wright family's villa.

Gavin had bought the house before their wedding. It was in a prime spot, the decor was expensive, and even the garden out front looked like it belonged in a magazine.

When Elise first moved in, she thought the place was so beautiful that it could've been a set from a TV show. She felt so out of place, like she didn't even belong on those floors.

But now, standing outside, all she could feel was a chill.

Cold, like a shiny shell with nothing inside.

As soon as Elise stepped through the door, Alina's voice rang out from the living room.

"How can a divorce take this long? Is she still up to something..."

Her words stopped abruptly.

Alina was sitting on the couch in a deep purple silk fitted dress, with an emerald necklace around her neck. When she saw Elise walk in, her expression soured instantly.

"You still know how to come home?" Alina said.

Elise didn't say anything. She slipped off her shoes and went straight upstairs.

Alina set her coffee cup down with a sharp thud. "Stop right there. I'm talking to you!"

Elise paused, turned back, and said, "Did you need something?"

Alina's temper spiked at Elise's attitude, her voice shrill. "Is that all you have to say? Now that you're divorced, shouldn't you be returning everything that belongs to the Wright family? My pearl necklace is gone. Did you take it?"

Elise stared at her, and couldn't help but feel a wave of amusement.

Three years.

Alina never changed. When Elise was burning up with fever, Alina accused her of pretending. When Elise ruined a tablecloth in the wash, Alina sneered that people from humble backgrounds had no sense of proper manners.

And now, the moment Elise got divorced, the first thing Alina did was accuse her of stealing.

"I didn't take it," said Elise.

"Oh, so you say you didn't take it, and I'm supposed to believe you?" Alina sneered. "People from backgrounds like yours are always scheming. Don't think you can walk out now that you're divorced. I'm telling you, unless you clear things up today, you're not going anywhere..."

"Mom." Gavin said.

Gavin walked in, interrupting her.

Alina turned and saw Gavin. Her temper cooled a bit. But then she caught sight of the Bentley parked outside, and her expression soured again.

Alina asked, "Whose car is that?"

No one answered.

Alina's eyes narrowed as she looked at Elise, her voice turning even nastier. "Elise, you just got your divorce papers, and you're already cozying up to someone else?

"No wonder you've been acting so tough these days. I thought you finally grew a spine, but it looks like you were lining up your next man all along."

Elise's fingers tightened bit by bit, her hand clenching slowly.

Gavin's face darkened. "Mom, that's enough."

"And tell me, what exactly did I say that's wrong?" Alina was getting more fired up. "I've seen plenty of women like her, pretending to be all innocent, but always scheming behind everyone's back.

"Three years in the Wright family, not a single sign of a baby, but she sure knew how to spend our money. Now she's divorced, and there's a fancy car parked outside. What, you think she hasn't already got herself a new man lined up?"

Smack!

The crisp slap cut through the room, and suddenly, everything was dead silent.

Alina froze.

Gavin was stunned, too.

Elise lowered her hand, her palm still stinging a little from the hit, but her face was completely calm.

It was the first time Elise had ever struck Alina.

For three years, no matter how much she'd been wronged, she'd never once fought back against her elders. But when her hand finally landed, there was no sense of relief, just a numbness that should've come ages ago.

She stared at Alina. Her voice wasn't loud, but every word hit home.

"You can insult me all you want, but don't dump your dirty assumptions on me."

Alina snapped out of it, let out a shriek, and came at Elise. "How dare you hit me?"

Gavin held her back. "Mom!"

"Let go of me. This bitch..."

"Say that again, I dare you."

A cold, deep voice came from the doorway.

Everyone turned their heads at once.

Jim had slipped in without anyone noticing, his black shirt making him look even sharper, eyes cold as ice with not a hint of warmth.

He stood in front of Elise, cool and collected, but it was obvious he was there to protect her.

Right after, Jeffery and Alieen walked in

Reborn three days before the apocalypse.

My biological parents kicked me out and took back the only home I had.

My replacement—the fake heiress—got everything. One billion dollars and a warm house.

They were so busy celebrating, they didn't notice me smiling.

While they partied, I took every dollar I had and started stockpiling. Hoarding like a madwoman.

Let them laugh. They didn't know what was coming.

Extreme heat. Absolute cold. Meteors falling from the sky. Plants turning into weapons. Monsters crawling out of nowhere.

The world was about to end—over and over again.

And when it did? Everyone would have to fight. Kill just to survive another day.

But me?

I found Eden Realm, a hidden magical space no one else could enter.

While the world burned, I vacationed with my forester parents in a bunker made for kings.

While everyone starved, my dog ate gourmet meals three times a day.

While they clawed and begged their way into crowded shelters, terrified of every shadow.

I built the strongest fortress on earth with steel walls and endless supplies.

***************************************************

Chapter 1 Coming Back

"This is Summer. She's the Moore family's long-lost daughter," Simon Moore said.

Summer Hayes woke up from darkness, the suffocating haze of near-fatal blood loss still haunting her.

She blinked, dazed, taking in her surroundings, realizing she was standing in the living room in Moore Manor.

Right in front of her were her parents, Robert Moore and Evelyn Moore, dressed in fancy clothes.

Sophia Moore, the so-called heiress, was standing next to Evelyn, wearing a white designer dress and clinging to Evelyn's arm. She shot Summer a nervous glance.

It hit Summer that, somehow, she was back at the moment she first met her parents.

Summer never thought those dramatic, rich family plot twists would ever happen to her until a week ago, when a sharp-suited young man showed up, introduced himself as Simon, CEO of Moore Holdings.

He told her that he was her elder brother and that she was the Moore family's heiress, switched at birth twenty years ago,

After checking out the DNA test results he brought, Summer spent a whole week mentally bracing herself before finally working up the nerve to come to Moore Manor and meet her parents.

Summer had always known she was adopted. After her adoptive parents split up, her mom, Helen Hayes, raised her alone. Deep down, she couldn't help but wonder what her real parents were truly like.

Summer was still reeling from the shock when Evelyn suddenly pulled her into a tight embrace, her voice trembling with emotion. "My sweetheart."

The luxurious scent of Evelyn's perfume brought Summer back to her senses. She quietly slipped out of Evelyn's arms, pushing down the surge of resentment in her heart.

This was the very mother of her blood, the one who had, in the apocalypse, drugged her and handed her over to a ruthless gang.

In the end, Summer died along with the gang's leader, but when she opened her eyes this time, she was back here.

"You must be Summer, right? Welcome home," Sophia said, stepping forward with a nervous smile.

Summer sneered inwardly. In her previous life, Sophia had started the same way, acting all welcoming at first, then turning nasty once she was back home.

After Summer came home, Sophia kept playing her little games. Sometimes she'd fake an injury, sometimes she'd cut up her own dresses and jewelry, and every single time, she'd blame it all on Summer.

No matter what Summer said, the Moore family always believed Sophia. Their disappointment in Summer only got worse.

"Is she the girl I was swapped with?" Summer asked, expressionless as she turned to Robert and Evelyn. "If I come back, does she have to move out?"

Evelyn was stunned for a moment, then blurted out, "Of course not. Sophia isn't leaving."

"Summer, you and Sophia are both our daughters," Robert said, a hint of annoyance in his voice. "Do you really think the Moore family can't handle having two girls?"

Before Summer could respond, an angry voice shot down from the stairs. "You should be the one leaving. How dare you talk to Sophia like that?"

Summer turned to see a teenage boy, maybe eighteen or nineteen, strutting down the stairs in head-to-toe streetwear. That was her younger brother, Ethan Moore.

Ethan marched down, glaring at Simon with a mix of confusion and accusation. "Why did you bring her back here?"

"Ethan, stop," Robert snapped, his voice low and stern. He turned to Summer, trying to smooth things over. "Summer, Ethan is just a kid. Don't take it to heart."

"I'm not a kid anymore. Why should I have to accept this girl from nowhere as my sister?" Ethan shot back, his voice full of resentment.

Summer instinctively glanced down at her own clothes.

After graduating, she helped Helen manage the family's private lake and orchards, running across the hills frequently. She was certainly not as polished or brand-clad as Sophia.

However, Summer really wasn't interested in fighting with Ethan right now. She said, "You misunderstood. I never said she had to leave. I'm not here for some family reunion. I'm here to talk about transferring the lease for Evergreen Hill."

The Moore family was in the tourism business, and they'd set their sights on Evergreen Hill in Evergreen Town, planning to build a fancy resort there. The lease for Evergreen Hill used to be under Helen's name, but now it was handed to Summer.

Helen had put a lot of money into the lake and orchards on Evergreen Hill.

Simon met Summer when he was negotiating the lease transfer with the Hayes family. He was floored by how much she looked like Evelyn, and when he found out Summer was adopted, he secretly grabbed a hair for a DNA test.

That was how he discovered Summer was actually the Moore family's daughter, switched at birth.

Summer's suddenly bringing up the lease threw the Moore family for a loop.

Evelyn was the first to snap out of it, and she said, "Summer, it's your first day home. Let's not get into business stuff now. Come on, let me show you the room I set up for you."

Summer knew she had to make sure the lease transfer went through today because in just three days, Evergreen Hill was going to get slammed by a freak mudslide.

That mudslide was the disaster that kicked off the end of the world and the start of Summer's nightmare. She lost everyone she cared about, even Helen, in that catastrophe, and had no choice but to go back to the Moore family.

This time, Summer was dead set on keeping her distance from the Moore family. She was going to protect her adoptive family and survive the apocalypse together.

For that, she needed a ton of cash to hoard supplies for the end times. Therefore, she had to sign that lease transfer and get her hands on the money.

"The tourist season is just two months away. Signing the contract now will benefit the Moore family," Summer said, knowing exactly what Robert cared about most.

For Robert, the company and profits always came first. Whether Summer was the real heiress or not meant nothing to him.

Sure enough, after a brief pause, Robert turned to Simon and said, "Go get the contract from my study."

Robert had been pushing hard for the Evergreen Hill project. Moore Holdings had made a few bad investments in recent years, and they desperately needed a new money-making venture to turn things around.

Robert had no idea why Summer was bringing up the contract now, but honestly, he was more than happy to go along with it.

There were still a few months before the peak tourist season in June, and if everything went smoothly, this investment could start making money for the company this year.

"Summer, let's go check out your room. Mom and I worked on it all day for you," Sophia said, reaching out and grabbing Summer's arm.

"That's not necessary. I'm not moving in," Summer said, pulling her arm back, shutting her down.

Sophia blinked, looking at Summer like she couldn't believe what she'd just heard.

"Cut the act. Are you playing hard to get?" Ethan said, arms crossed, voice dripping with disdain.

"Ethan, enough," Robert barked. "Summer is your sister. Apologize to her."

Ethan shot back, his face full of resentment, "Why should I? She's the one who should be saying sorry to Sophia. Look at the way she acts toward her. Why did Simon even bring her back here? Did he ever think about how Sophia feels?"

Summer sneered. She thought, 'He definitely thought it through. It's obvious that Simon did all this for Sophia.'

At first, Summer thought Simon brought her back to the Moore family because he actually cared about her, but later, she realized the truth.

Simon had a thing for Sophia, and the only way he could ever have a shot with her was if the real heiress came back.

Summer could never forget how, when Sophia had framed her, Simon had destroyed the surveillance footage and provided false testimony to support Sophia.

Just then, Ethan walked over with a document in hand. "Here's the lease transfer contract for Evergreen Hill. This is the final version."

Without responding to Ethan, Summer picked up the contract and started reading through it.

Helen had invested hundreds of thousands of dollars in the lake, which yielded two harvests each year, earning tens of thousands of dollars each time.

Since the lake would be ready for harvest in two months, Helen had wanted to wait until after the harvest to sign the contract in her previous life.

However, it led only to a deadly mudslide, followed by years of apocalyptic disasters that devastated the entire tourism industry, rendering the agreement completely void.

Summer said, "We agreed on one million dollars for the lease transfer. Let's add another 100 thousand dollars for signing today. The lake will be ready for harvest in two months, producing at least tens of thousands of pounds of trout.

"You've checked it out before; it should sell for over 150 thousand dollars."

"Deal," Robert said after a brief pause, nodding his approval.

"Thanks, Dad," Summer said, forcing herself to sound grateful even though she felt nothing but disgust inside. "Can you send the money tomorrow?"

Robert was caught off guard for a second when Summer called him "Dad", but he looked pleased about it.

He smiled and said, "Normally, the payment would take a month to process, but since it's your first day home, I'll make it happen for you. I'll have 1.1 million dollars sent to you tomorrow."

Summer breathed a sigh of relief.

"Summer, can we go see your room now? Don't make a fuss, or Mom will get upset," Sophia said, biting her lips and looking a little upset.

Summer remembered how, in her previous life, she'd agreed to stay here for a few days, and three days later, disaster struck. She lost everyone she cared about, even Helen.

Thinking about all the humiliation and unfairness she'd suffered with the Moore family, Summer wanted to snap back at them right then, but she dared not burn bridges before the money was in her account.

Without that money, Summer couldn't hoard supplies for the apocalypse. She was just a fresh college grad with barely any savings.

Therefore, Summer put on her best conflicted look and ducked her head. "Thanks for getting the room ready for me, but this is all just too sudden. I need a few days to calm down. I'll move back once I've made up my mind."

Evelyn looked a little down at Summer's answer, but then reminded herself that it was indeed overwhelming for Summer. She thought she should give her a few days to process it.

She stepped up and gently hugged Summer. "Just give me a call when you're ready, okay? I'll send someone to pick you up. I really miss you, baby. Don't make me wait too long."

Summer managed a smile at Evelyn, trying her best to look calm.

Suddenly, Sophia spoke up, her voice trembling a little. "Summer, are you leaving because of me?"

Sophia lifted her tearful gaze to Summer, looking heartbreakingly fragile. "If it's because of me, I can leave. I don't want to make things hard for you."

"Sophia, don't be ridiculous. This is your home, and you're not going anywhere." Evelyn immediately dropped Summer and hurried over to fuss over Sophia.

"Sophia, don't talk nonsense. Nobody is gonna kick you out," Ethan sneered, shooting Summer a nasty look.

"Sophia, trust me. This will always be your home, no matter what," Simon said softly.

"Summer, I know this might feel unfair to you, but it's not Sophia's fault. I hope you two can get along. You're both part of this family," Robert said, his voice low and firm.

Summer had already tasted the Moore family's favoritism toward Sophia in her previous life.

After she came back, not a single one of the Moore family truly cared about her; all they ever worried about was whether Sophia would be heartbroken because of her return.

One time, Sophia purposely broke a keepsake from Helen. Before Summer could even react, Sophia burst into tears, and everyone immediately rushed over, comforting her and scolding Summer for not taking better care of her things.

However, watching the whole family crowd around Sophia, Summer felt absolutely nothing.

She had zero interest in fighting Sophia for their so-called affection. She thought, 'If she wants her so-called family, then go ahead. I just want to save my real family.'

"I have to go. I expect the transfer money to hit my account tomorrow," Summer said coldly, then turned and walked straight out of that stifling house without a single glance back.

Chapter 2 The Eden Realm

As Summer stepped out of Moore Manor, she noticed a drizzle falling outside.

Summer felt weak as the nightmarish scenes of the apocalypse from her previous life flashed through her mind. She shook her head and fumbled for her phone to call Helen.

In her previous life, at this exact moment, Helen and her uncle, Charles Hayes, were getting ready to head out of town to buy saplings.

They wouldn't be back until the next evening, and when they finally returned, they got swept up in that massive mudslide.

The call connected, and Helen's voice came through the phone. "Summer, what's up?"

"Mom," Summer called out, her voice trembling.

It had been three years since she last heard Helen's voice. It hit Summer like a storm, flooding her with joy, sorrow, and raw, uncontrollable emotion.

"Summer, what's wrong? Why are you crying?" Helen asked anxiously.

"Mom, you and Uncle Charles just left, right? Just come back home right now. Call Aunt Grace and tell her to come back. There's something really important I need to tell you. It's urgent," Summer said, choking back her tears.

Helen replied quickly, "Okay, don't panic. We're coming home right now. We'll be there soon."

After hanging up, Summer's mind raced as she replayed everything.

It was March 1st, and on the early morning of the 3rd, Evergreen Hill would be hit by a massive mudslide. She had to get her family out of there before March 2nd, no matter what.

Having made up her mind, Summer jumped into a taxi and sped straight toward Evergreen Town.

The lady driver made small talk with Summer. "This rain has been coming down for over a week now. Who knows when it'll finally let up?"

Summer gazed out at the rain streaking down the window, having mixed feelings. It was this rain that set off the mudslide at Evergreen Hill.

After that came a freak tornado, then a year of relentless heatwaves. Then the volcanoes blew, ash covered the sky, and the world was swallowed by darkness. The endless cold nights began.

For the next two years, people longed for rainy days more than anything.

After a moment's thought, Summer turned to the driver and said, "Looks like the weather has been acting up lately. You might want to stock up on some food and medicine at home, just in case."

The lady driver nodded along, but whether she'd actually listen was out of Summer's hands.

After getting out of the taxi, Summer didn't head straight home. Instead, she made her way to the mid-slope of Evergreen Hill.

Relying on her memory, Summer came across a huge white granite boulder nestled in the woods halfway up the hill.

She and her elder cousin, Ian Hayes, used to hang out here as kids, but she'd never imagined that this granite boulder was hiding a secret realm inside.

The boulder was about 26 feet long, 13 feet wide, and tall. Back in her previous life, the mudslide had sent it tumbling down the hill.

When the world was hit by catastrophic floods, Sophia happened to discover and unlock the Eden Realm hidden inside the giant granite boulder.

Back then, floods were sweeping through, and a pandemic was spreading like wildfire.

Using the Eden Realm, Sophia created a special water with healing powers that helped the Moore family bounce back from bankruptcy. The whole family, who already favored Sophia, became even more loyal to her, following her every word.

When Sophia suggested selling Summer off to an underworld gang, Evelyn made Summer drink the drugged water.

Moments after Summer swallowed it, she went blind and weak, falling to the floor.

In the darkness, she heard Evelyn and Robert's voices. "Sophia, you don't have to worry anymore. I promise, from now on, you'll be my only daughter. No one will ever upset you again."

Then Simon and Ethan chimed in. "This is the right thing to do. She's always been jealous of Sophia. She's made Sophia's life miserable all these years.

"She was never really part of the Moore family. Just look at her. She takes after her adoptive parents. Maybe she'll learn her lesson this time."

In the darkness, fear and helplessness spread through Summer. She wanted to ask them why they were doing this.

Summer had always treasured her family, and during the apocalypse, she did everything she could to look after them.

After Robert went bankrupt and let the housekeeper go, she took on all the chores herself. When Simon and Evelyn were running a high fever during the bitter cold, she went out into the snow to get fever medicine for them.

Just before Summer blacked out, she could feel Sophia walk up and nudge her face with the tip of her shoe.

Sophia said in a low voice, "Honestly, I should thank that damn hill near your house. If I hadn't scratched my hand on that white boulder, I wouldn't have gotten this magical Eden Realm."

Snapping out of her memories of the apocalypse, Summer bit down on her finger, pressed her bloodied palm to the boulder, and waited silently.

Suddenly, a blinding light erupted. Then, in an instant, both the boulder and Summer were gone, leaving not a single trace behind.

A voice rang out. [Hello, welcome to the Eden Realm.]

Summer opened her eyes to find a stream before her. On one side stretched a wide field of farmland, while the rest of the world was hidden behind a thick veil of mist.

The voice continued. [Welcome, host. This is your first time activating the Eden Realm. Eden Stream and Eden Farm are now unlocked for you.]

A white cat hopped over to Summer's feet, stretched lazily, and curiously eyed her.

"Hello there," Summer blurted out, surprised.

Summer looked at the cat in surprise, noticing its fur was white with patterns, just like the granite boulder.

The cat said, [I am the Eden Realm.]

Summer thought, 'Wow, the cat can talk.'

Pushing down her shock, Summer looked around. She thought, 'So, this is the legendary Eden Realm Sophia got her hands on in her previous life.'

Summer glanced around at the swirling mist, curiosity bubbling up inside her. She asked the cat, "What's hidden behind all this fog?"

The cat, who was named Snowy, said, [Everything behind the mist is still locked. Right now, only Eden Farm and Eden Stream are open to you. As for the rest, you'll explore and unlock them yourself.]

[You can stock the stream with fish and shrimp, and grow crops in the fields.]

"Planting, huh? What season is it in the Eden Realm right now? Which seeds do I need to get for planting?" Summer asked.

Snowy said, [In the Eden Realm, it's always the right season for any crop. You can plant whatever you want. Everything grows faster and better here than anywhere else.]

Snowy circled Summer and looked proud. [As the host bound to the Eden Realm, you now have the ability to manipulate objects within this space. Go ahead and try moving something with your mind.]

Summer tried to control a small stone by the stream, and under her mental command, it flew out.

Snowy padded around Summer and kept on explaining. [Host, you can move items from inside the Eden Realm to the outside world, and you can also bring things from outside into the Eden Realm.]

[Remember, you have to be close enough to the item if you want to pull it inside. If you're having trouble bringing something in, just get a little closer and give it another shot.]

Just then, Summer's phone rang. She swiped to answer, and Helen's voice came through. "Summer, we just got home. Where are you?"

Summer replied in a rush, "I'll be home in a minute."

After hanging up, Summer looked at Snowy and asked, "How do I leave the Eden Realm?"

Snowy said, [Just picture yourself as an item and use your mind to move yourself out.]

Following Snowy's instructions, Summer willed herself out with a thought. When she blinked, she found herself standing back on Evergreen Hill.

The huge granite boulder that used to sit on the hillside had simply disappeared into thin air, as if it had never been there in the first place.

On her way home, Summer passed by a lake and saw the automatic feeder spitting out fish food nonstop. The fish swarmed in, fighting over every bite.

Watching the frenzy, Summer willed the fish with her mind, attempting to transfer them straight into the Eden Stream inside the Eden Realm.

[Received 30 tilapias.]

[Received 30 trout.]

[Received 30 basses.]

[Received 30 perches.]

[Transfer complete. Eden Stream has finished cleaning the fish. All parasites have been cleansed. They're totally safe to eat now.]

Summer thought, 'Wait, this stream has a purifying effect, right? Could it be that the medicine Sophia used to solve the pandemic in her previous life came from the water of this Eden Stream?'

As Summer kept running through memories of her previous life, she found herself standing at her front door without even realizing it.

Pushing down the flood of emotions in her heart, she gently pushed open the gate of the farmhouse she hadn't seen in years.

Chapter 3 Preparing To Move

Summer walked into the house and saw Helen, Charles, and Julia waiting for her.

Seeing their faces, Summer felt like crying, and she threw herself into Helen's arms.

"What happened, Summer?" Julia Hayes walked over and gently stroked Summer's hair.

Charles quickly spoke up to comfort her. "Summer, don't worry. Take your time and tell us what's going on. We're all here for you."

Seeing the concern on everyone's faces, Summer took a deep breath to steady herself and said, "I signed over the lease rights for Evergreen Hill to Moore Holdings. The total payment is 1.1 million dollars, and the money will hit our account tomorrow."

Helen looked surprised. "What? Why did you sign it so suddenly? The fish haven't even been caught yet. Weren't we supposed to wait until after the fish were harvested before selling?"

Charles was also taken aback. "Summer, why didn't you talk to us? You're just a girl. Don't let the people from Moore Holdings take advantage of you. Those businessmen are very shrewd."

"I had to sign the deal today. There's going to be a mudslide early morning the day after tomorrow. If we dragged, the whole contract would be worthless," Summer explained, her voice steady but urgent.

Everyone was surprised. Julia hesitated, then said, "There's never been a mudslide on Evergreen Hill. I've lived here for decades, and even during the worst rainstorms, nothing like that ever happened."

"Yeah, before we took on Evergreen Hill, your mom and I looked into it. The experts said the geology here makes landslides unlikely," Charles chimed in.

Summer said seriously, "I know it's hard for you to believe, but I swear, I've got reliable info. This mudslide will hit our house. Plus, the two neighbors will be in danger.

"We need to pack up now and leave tomorrow."

Seeing the serious look on Summer's face, they couldn't help but trust her a little more. They knew she was never one to mess around or exaggerate.

Ever since her parents divorced, Summer had been balancing school with handling all sorts of family affairs. As the only college student in the house, everyone relied on her for advice.

After Julia and Charles got scammed out of 30 thousand dollars a few years back, whenever it came to money, they'd always check with Summer first.

Seeing that they were starting to trust her, Summer pressed on. "Let's move to our apartment in the city near the school tomorrow. Just trust me. By early the day after tomorrow, we'll know. If nothing happens, we can come back."

After thinking it over for a few seconds, Charles nodded. "Alright, Summer, you're always smart, and I'll trust you on this. Let's have lunch, then we'll pack up and call the movers."

Helen and Julia shared a look, then nodded.

Summer let out a sigh of relief.

Suddenly, Julia thought of the contract Summer had just signed and asked, a bit uncertain, "If there really is a mudslide, wouldn't that mean the Moore family gets the short end of the stick?

"That's not right. We shouldn't do something like that. Besides, if the Moore family found out, they'd come after you."

"Don't worry about it. The Moore family is loaded. They run a huge tourism business and have all kinds of insurance to handle things like this," Summer said.

She thought, 'I don't care whether the Moore family suffers a loss or not. They did worse things to me.'

Julia finally relaxed after hearing that.

Julia cooked up some fresh greens, pork ribs, and even made some fried chicken. Since they were moving tomorrow, it just didn't make sense to try to bring a chicken to the apartment.

It might have been simple home cooking, but Summer ate a lot.

In the apocalypse, regular food was ridiculously expensive; even a small pack of cookies could sell for hundreds of dollars.

To save food for the Moore family, Summer often survived on government-distributed Survival Biscuits, and it had been a long time since she'd eaten a proper meal like this.

After lunch, the whole family started packing up.

The place they were moving to was a well-renovated and fully furnished apartment in the city, right near a school.

Helen had bought it for Summer a few years ago, and it already had all the furniture and appliances they needed, so there was no point in hauling their old stuff over.

Summer headed straight for the kitchen. After surviving the apocalypse, she refused to waste even a single thing and planned to take every bit of it with her.

Just then, the voice of the Eden System rang out in her head. [Eden Storage has been unlocked. You can store as much as you want.]

Summer entered the Eden Realm and saw a massive warehouse across the stream from the farmland. Towering several stories high, the warehouse was filled with rows upon rows of neatly organized shelves and compartments.

Snowy explained to Summer, [Eden Storage lets you stash your stuff and keeps it fresh for ages. Plus, it'll automatically sort and organize anything you put inside.]

Summer was thrilled, finding this storage feature perfect for stockpiling supplies.

Summer raided the kitchen, snatching up everything she could get her hands on, including the cooking tools and Julia's homemade food.

Helen and Julia started packing up everyone's clothes and bedding, while Charles rounded up all the electronics, wrapped them carefully in soft foam, and boxed them up.

They kept busy until evening, when Grace Hayes, Charles's wife, came back from her shift at the clothing factory downtown.

Grace was supposed to have tomorrow off, but once she heard from Charles about the mudslide, she asked for leave and hurried home to help pack up.

She said, "Charles, are you sure about this? We've got to pack up all that bedding we just bought not long ago."

Grace was a go-getter type. She started as a line worker in a clothing factory and worked her way up to a junior supervisor, managing a team of employees.

As soon as she walked in, she didn't even take off her coat. She set down her bag and rolled up her sleeves, ready to get to work.

While packing, she asked Charles, "Have you packed Ian's stuff yet? Make sure all his little robots go in. He'll be mad if they are missing."

Ian Hayes was Summer's elder cousin, the only child of Charles and Grace, and he served in the military.

In her previous life, the final time Summer saw Ian was at their family's funeral. They clung to each other, sobbing uncontrollably over the loss of their loved ones.

Not long after the funeral, disaster struck. All soldiers and rookies were urgently called back for disaster relief and to restore order nationwide. From that day on, Summer never saw Ian again.

"I've got everything packed up. I already called the movers. They'll come in the morning and get everything loaded up," Charles replied.

The five of them spent the whole night packing, and by the time they were done, everything was boxed up except for a few pieces of furniture.

To lighten the load, Summer took advantage of moments when no one was watching and quietly slipped a few items into Eden Storage, feeling a bit smug about her trick.

By a little after ten in the evening, they went over everything one last time to make sure nothing was left behind. Only then did they finally wash up and turn in for the night.

Chapter 4 The Money Is In

After Summer left Moore Manor, Evelyn felt a little sad. She'd been busy comforting Sophia and hadn't even realized when Summer slipped out.

She sighed. "Why did Summer leave so suddenly? She could have at least stayed for dinner. Sophia and I got a room ready for her, but she didn't even take a look."

Ethan snorted. "Don't mind her. Why should we invite her to dinner after she made Sophia cry?"

Sophia quickly shook her head. "Ethan, it's my fault. Don't blame Summer."

Ethan let out a sigh. "Sophia, you're too kind. If you stay this nice, she'll bully you."

"Alright, that's enough." Robert shot Ethan a glare, then turned to Simon. "Simon, send 1.7 million dollars to Summer from my personal account tomorrow."

Simon blinked in surprise. "Weren't we supposed to send 1.1 million dollars?"

Robert took a drag from his cigarette. "The extra 600 thousand dollars is for the Hayes family. After this, Summer has nothing to do with them. Once they take this money, they should tell her to come back to us."

Simon nodded. "Got it. I'll get someone to handle it right away."

Sophia listened to their conversation, biting her lips, her eyes shadowed with a complex gloom.

Ethan complained, "Dad, that's an extra 600 thousand dollars. That's more than enough for them to never worry about money. Why should she come back at all?"

"Shut up," Robert snapped, clearly annoyed.

He and Evelyn had three kids. Simon and Sophia were both easy to handle, but Ethan was always causing trouble, stirring up problems at school.

Sophia bit her lips and murmured, "Ethan, don't make Dad angry. Summer is our family, after all. I shouldn't have upset her. She's probably mad because of me, and that's why she doesn't want to come back."

Evelyn saw the tears in Sophia's eyes and hugged her tightly, feeling sorry for her. "How could this be your fault, Sophia? You did nothing wrong. Ethan is right. You are always so kind."

Sophia buried her face in Evelyn's arms, her voice choked with sobs. "Mom, maybe I should move out. Summer is your daughter, and I know you want her back. If that makes you happy, I'll do it."

"Oh, my sweetheart, don't think that way. You'll always be my dearest daughter, and this is always your home, no matter what," Evelyn said, rushing to comfort her.

She paused and continued, "Do you remember that painting you saw at the auction, the one that cost one million dollars? I got it for you. The auction house will deliver it in a few days, and I'll have it put up in your room."

"Thank you, Mom," Sophia whispered, her face buried in Evelyn's arms. Hidden from everyone, a sly little smile crept onto her lips.

Ethan chimed in, "Mom, you saw how that girl acted the other day. She even asked if Sophia was moving out. She's obviously jealous of her. If you let her move in, Sophia is just going to get pushed around by her."

Robert lit up a cigarette and shot Ethan a glare. "Summer is your sister, no matter what. The Moore family's heiress can't be left out. Just think about it. If people hear about it, what would they say?"

Robert believed there was simply no comparison between the insanely rich Moore family and a small-town family like the Hayes family. He was sure that Summer would rather come back and live as a rich girl.

He thought, 'Summer even suggested signing the Evergreen Hill lease contract early yesterday. She probably wanted to make a good impression on us by doing Moore Holdings a favor.

'She didn't immediately agree to stay yesterday, probably because she was sulking after Ethan's insult. Girls need a graceful way to back down sometimes.'

Robert turned to Ethan and said, "Go to Evergreen Hill tomorrow, apologize to your sister, and bring her home."

"Why?" Ethan protested, totally shocked. He really didn't want to see Summer again. If his friends knew he had a sister from a small town, he'd be embarrassed.

Robert snorted, "If you don't go, I'm cutting off your credit card starting today."

Ethan gritted his teeth and muttered, clearly unhappy, "Alright, I'll go."

Seeing that Ethan finally agreed, Robert and Evelyn headed out to the office.

Sophia and Ethan were left in the living room.

Sophia reassured him, "Ethan, they are dead set on bringing Summer back. Now is not the time to piss them off."

"Yeah, I get it," Ethan replied, his tone softening as he looked at Sophia.

To Ethan, Sophia was the definition of class and elegance; she could dance ballet, play the piano, and had even held her own art exhibition right after turning eighteen.

He thought she was the best sister in the world, and everyone at school knew that.

Before Sophia got engaged to Edward Sutton, the Sutton family's heir, plenty of rich boys tried to please Sophia by cozying up to Ethan.

Ethan had always worn that pride like a badge.

And now he was told that his sister wasn't Sophia, but some rude girl like Summer. He just couldn't accept it. He wanted her to stay away from the Moore family forever.

*****

The Hayes family got up early the next day.

After getting ready, Summer glanced at her phone and saw a bank notification. 1.7 million dollars had just been deposited into her account.

That was 600 thousand dollars more than what the contract said.

There was also a message from Simon.

Simon said that the deal was 1.1 million dollars, and the extra 600 thousand dollars was a thank-you from the Moore family to Helen.

He said that they appreciated everything she'd done for Summer and hoped that the money would grant her a good life after her retirement.

Simon also told Summer to give him a call once she'd packed up and come home soon, so their parents wouldn't have to keep worrying.

Summer stared at the numbers, her thoughts drifting.

She thought, 'In my previous life, the Moore family sold me for 600 thousand dollars. Now they're giving me the same amount. Is this some kind of karma?'

Looking at Simon's message, Summer saw right through their intentions. She knew they wanted to use 600 thousand dollars to cut her ties with the Hayes family once and for all.

She scoffed and didn't bother replying.

Summer thought back to her previous life, when a brutal blizzard hit and Simon was burning up with a fever that just wouldn't break. The whole family was helpless, so she went out in the heavy snow to get him medicine.

Simon's fever finally broke after he took the meds, but Summer ended up sick herself from braving the snow.

Back then, Sophia strolled over, acting all concerned and saying a couple of fake-sweet words.

Simon saw it and got annoyed, blaming Summer for getting sick and making Sophia look after her.

Summer remembered every single one of those details. She thought, 'Well, let's call it the compensation I'm taking from the Moore .

The moonshade herbs sat on my vanity, their bitter scent filling the Alpha's quarters. For three years, I'd choked them down every morning, suppressing Sienna, my wolf, hiding my true nature from the man I'd given everything to.

Not tonight.

My fingers trembled as I lifted the vial, the blue moon's light streaming through the window, casting silver patterns across my reflection. The woman staring back at me looked fragile—deliberately so. Soft brown hair styled to appear lifeless, makeup subtle enough to diminish my features, clothes chosen for comfort rather than statement.

"Three years is enough," I whispered to my reflection. "Tonight, he'll know the real me."

I uncorked the vial and watched the thick, bitter liquid swirl down the sink. Sienna stirred within me, responding to freedom after years of forced slumber.

*We're awakening,* she whispered in my mind, her voice stronger than it had been in years. *Finally.*

I dressed carefully—a simple but elegant gown of pale blue that matched the rare Blue Moon Festival outside. My hand drifted to my still-flat stomach, where our secret grew. A child conceived with love, or so I'd thought.

"I'll tell him everything tonight," I promised Sienna. "About you, about our heritage, about the baby."

*He'll love us for who we truly are,* Sienna replied, hopeful as always. *Our love is strong enough.*

I followed Damian's scent through the festival grounds, where pack members celebrated under strings of twinkling lights. Music and laughter filled the air, but I moved with purpose, tracking my mate to a secluded grove beyond the festivities.

The forest grew darker here, moonlight filtering through dense branches. Damian's scent was stronger now, mingled with another—sweet, floral, and distinctly feminine.

"Jolene?"

I froze behind a thick cluster of trees, my heart stuttering as I recognized the Beta's daughter's scent. Through the branches, I could see them—Damian pressed against a tree, Jolene's legs wrapped around his waist, his hands gripping her ass with familiar possession.

"She's nothing but a burden," Damian growled, his voice carrying clearly in the still night. "A wolfless human who can't even shift during the Blue Moon Festival."

Jolene's laugh was cruel, cutting through me like glass. "Then why keep her? The pack whispers about your weak Luna."

"Because she's useful," he replied, and my world tilted on its axis. "Her family's connections to the Silver Moon territories are worth the humiliation of having a mate who can't even run with the pack."

I pressed my hand against my mouth to stifle a gasp. Three years of love, of sacrifice, reduced to... convenience.

"I can give you what she can't," Jolene purred, her fingers tangling in his hair. "Strength. An heir."

"An heir?" Damian pulled back slightly, interest flickering in his eyes.

Jolene nodded, her smile triumphant. "Our pup will be strong—worthy of an Alpha."

Something broke inside me then—the last fragile thread of hope that there might be some explanation, some misunderstanding. Sienna howled in rage within me, but I forced her down, not ready to reveal her existence yet.

I stepped from the shadows, my footsteps deliberately loud enough to alert them. They sprang apart, Jolene's eyes wide with guilt that quickly hardened into defiance.

"Sophia," Damian recovered quickly, his expression shifting to cold calculation rather than remorse. "You shouldn't be here."

"And you should?" I asked quietly, my voice steadier than I expected.

His jaw tightened. "We need to talk. Privately."

What followed was a blur of cruelty. Damian dragged me back to the festival grounds, where the pack had gathered around the massive bonfire. Elder Helena Cross watched with knowing eyes as Damian positioned me before the crowd.

"Pack members of Shadow Creek," he announced, his Alpha voice silencing all conversation. "I have an announcement to make."

I stood frozen as he turned to me, his eyes devoid of the love I'd once believed was there.

"I, Alpha Damian Hunt, reject you, Sophia Wright, as my mate and Luna."

Gasps rippled through the crowd. Rejection was rare—painful for both parties, but especially devastating for the rejected mate.

"You are no longer welcome in my bed or my pack," he continued, each word a dagger. "Jolene will take your place as Luna, bringing strength where you brought only shame."

I felt something shifting inside me—not just Sienna pushing against her bonds, but something deeper. Power stirring after years of suppression.

Damian expected tears, begging, collapse. Instead, I met his gaze steadily, feeling a strange calm wash over me as Sienna's strength flowed into my veins for the first time in years.

"Accepted, Alpha," I whispered, my voice carrying across the suddenly silent clearing.

His eyes widened slightly at my composure, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his features before he masked it with arrogance.

"You have until dawn to leave our territory," he declared.

I nodded once, turning away from the life I'd built on lies. As I walked through the parting crowd, I felt something breaking inside me—not my heart, but the chains that had bound Sienna for too long.

She was coming. And when she arrived, nothing would ever be the same again.

Chapter 1

The house was a gift from my dad, and it was meant to be a little haven for my husband and me.

But when I got back from a two-week business trip, I was shocked to find my front door locked up tight, and my key wouldn't work.

Totally baffled, I called a locksmith.

A sharp click sounded.

The door swung open as the lock clicked.

The sharp smell of barbecue mixed with greasy smoke slammed into me, making me almost gag.

Inside, my sister-in-law, Rita Booth, and her whole family of six people were feasting around the dining table, leaving the place in utter chaos.

To top it off, my mother-in-law was lounging in my silk robe, clutching a skewer of sizzling pork dripping with oil.

When she noticed I was back, she couldn't even be bothered to lift her eyes.

She said, "Oh, you're back?

"Perfect timing. Go wash the dishes."

I was shaking with rage, pointing at her and yelling, "This is my house!"

Rita gnawed on her chicken wing and gave a mocking laugh.

She sneered, "Julia, did you forget already?

"My brother's name is on the deed too!"

*****

My dad paid for the house in full and gifted it to me.

The deed had both my name and Sterling Booth's on it.

It was supposed to be our own little haven for the two of us.

But when I got back from a two-week business trip, my key wouldn't open the lock.

The lock had been changed from the inside.

I stood at my own front door, feeling like a homeless person who'd been thrown out.

Rage and disbelief hit me hard.

I pulled out my phone and called Sterling.

The call rang forever before he finally picked up, and the background noise was crazy loud.

"Hey, honey, you're back?" Sterling said.

He sounded kind of guilty.

I said, "I'm back, but I can't get into the house."

My tone was ice-cold. "Care to explain?"

Sterling was silent for a few seconds.

Sterling finally said, "Honey, please don't be mad. It's Mom and Rita...

"Mom and Rita brought the kids from back home, said they were looking for jobs in the city and didn't have anywhere else to stay.

"So I let them move in for now.

"I mean, the house is huge, and it'd be empty otherwise."

I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief and anger.

I demanded, "Sterling, why didn't you bother to tell me before letting them move in?

"And what's with changing the locks?

"Were you scared I'd come back and throw your darling family out?"

Sterling said, "No, honey, please, hear me out.

"Mom said she was afraid you wouldn't agree, so she took it upon herself to change the locks.

"She said she'd wait until you got back to talk things over. She thought it'd be a surprise for you."

Instead of surprise, I was shocked.

"I'm right outside. Have them open the door," I said.

I was done being patient. This was his last chance.

Sterling replied, "Honey, I'm in the middle of a client meeting, I really can't leave right now.

"Crash at a hotel nearby tonight, okay? I'll come back and explain everything as soon as I finish up tonight.

"Julia, we are all family. Don't be so petty."

With that, he hung up in a hurry.

I gripped my phone so hard the veins on the back of my hand stood out.

He said we were family.

He even called me petty.

I took a deep breath and called up the locksmith company.

"Hi, can you send someone over? The address is..." I said.

Half an hour later, the locksmith showed up.

He took a look at the lock, then checked my ownership papers and ID to make sure everything was legit.

He said, "This lock's brand new, and it's pretty high-quality.

"Looks like we'll have to break it open."

"Open it," I said coldly.

The locksmith didn't say another word. He pulled out his tools and got to work.

The shrill whine of the drill echoed through the quiet hallway.

Soon, loud footsteps and angry voices came from inside.

"Who's out there? What the hell are you doing?" a sharp female voice demanded.

Rita's shrill voice rang out.

I ignored her.

A few minutes later, with a loud crack, the lock finally gave way.

I shoved the door open.

The heavy smell of barbecue mixed with greasy smoke slammed into me the moment I stepped inside.

It made my stomach twist, and I nearly gagged right then and there.

The living room looked like a war zone.

Snack wrappers and empty drink bottles littered the floor.

On the expensive leather sofa my dad bought, a bunch of kids were stomping and wrestling all over it.

The sofa was smeared with black footprints and oily stains.

In the dining room, Rita and her whole family of six were crowded around my dining table, feasting on barbecue cooked on an electric grill.

The table was a disaster zone, piled high with dirty dishes and grease practically running off the edges.

There was my mother-in-law, Misty Booth, shamelessly wearing my luxurious silk robe.

Chapter 2

Misty was munching on a skewer of sizzling pork, her lips glistening with grease as she devoured it.

She barely glanced up when I walked in, lifting her eyelids in a lazy way.

"Well, Julia, you're back?" Misty said.

She spoke as if she were in the right.

It felt like she was the real owner of the house.

"Perfect timing. The dirty dishes are stacked over there. Go wash them," Misty commanded.

I stared at the ridiculous scene before me, my whole body trembling with anger.

My home, my belongings, and everything had been plundered and ruined by these intruders who'd taken over like it was theirs.

I pointed at Misty, my voice shaking with rage.

"This is my house!" I shouted.

Rita was gnawing on a chicken wing. She let out a cold laugh and spat out the bone.

Rita sneered, "Julia, did you forget?

"My brother's name is on the deed too.

"That means this house belongs to the Booth family.

"So it makes sense for us to live in our own home!"

*****

I scoffed, "The Booth family's house?"

I couldn't help but let out a sarcastic laugh, fury simmering beneath the surface.

I shot back, "Did the Booth family ever pay a dime for the down payment or the mortgage?

"My dad bought this house outright as a wedding gift for me, and the deed is in my name。

"Sterling begged me to add his name and said it would help him feel secure, so I gave in.

"And now you're using that as your excuse to take over like a bunch of freeloaders?"

Misty slammed her skewer down on the table, her robe sleeve greasy as hell.

Misty shot back, "Julia, what's with your attitude? What do you mean, we're taking over your place?

"My son is the head of this house. So what's wrong with his mother staying here for a while?

"You married my son, so you're part of the Booth family now. All your stuff is ours, naturally.

"Of course, we spend your money and live in your house. It's only right!"

Their shameless, bandit logic honestly blew my mind.

I was done wasting my breath on them.

I pulled out my phone and dialed 911.

"Hello, I'd like to report a break-in. Someone trespassed in my home and pried open my lock," I said.

Misty and Rita were both stunned by what I did.

They probably never thought I'd actually call the cops.

Misty was the first to snap out of it. She lunged at me, trying to snatch my phone.

Misty yelled, "Are you out of your mind? You don't air your family's dirty laundry in public. How dare you call the cops?

"Do you really want the whole neighborhood watching us make fools of ourselves?"

I sidestepped her greasy hand and gave her a cold, hard stare.

I snapped, "You are not my family.

"The second you changed my locks without asking, you became home invaders.

"There's no shame to hide when I'm dealing with thieves like you."

Rita stood up, pointing right in my face and shouting.

Rita snapped, "Julia, don't take kindness for weakness.

"My brother's coming back any minute. Wait till he gets here and see how he deals with you.

"You can't even give birth to a baby. How dare you call the police? You are so shameless."

Her kids followed her lead, making faces at me and spitting at me.

"Bad woman. Get out of our home!" they shouted.

I barely held back my nausea as I retreated to the doorway, waiting for the cops to arrive.

The cops showed up in no time.

As soon as the police walked in, Misty and Rita immediately put on their best innocent faces, acting like they were the ones being wronged.

Misty dropped herself onto the floor, wailing and slapping her thighs like she was putting on a show.

Misty sobbed, "Please, officer, you have to stand up for us.

"My daughter-in-law is downright evil.

"We came from the countryside to seek refuge, and instead of welcoming us, she called the police to have us thrown out.

"We're a widow with kids, lost in this city. She's leaving us with nowhere to go!"

Rita hugged her kid, sniffling and echoing Misty's complaints.

Rita whimpered, "Yeah, officer, my brother agreed to let us stay here.

"This house belongs to my brother, so it's only right we're here.

"Julia looks down on us country folks and thinks we're beneath her, so she's picking a fight with us."

They teamed up, spinning lies and turning the tables, making me out to be the villain.

The neighbors started sticking their heads out, hungry for gossip, whispering and pointing at me.

The lead officer frowned and turned his attention to me.

"Ma'am, did you call the police?" he asked.

I nodded and handed over my ID and a copy of the property deed.

I explained, "Officer, this house is my pre-marital property. My dad paid for it in full as a wedding gift.

"When I got back from a business trip, I found the locks were changed and a bunch of strangers had taken over my home.

"I want them out of my house right now."

The officer took the documents, looked them over, then fixed his gaze on Rita.

Chapter 3

Rita quickly pulled a property deed out of her bag.

Rita said, "Officer, look, my brother, Sterling's name is right here too.

"Since this is Sterling's house, it's totally legal for us to live here."

The officer compared the two property deeds. Both names were indeed listed.

He looked uneasy as he turned to me.

He said, "Ma'am, here's the situation.

"Since your husband's name is on the deed, this is considered joint family property.

"This is a family dispute, and the police are not in a position to intervene.

"We recommend you try to resolve this between yourselves first. If you can't reach an agreement, you may pursue legal action."

Misty and Rita instantly flashed smug grins.

Misty scrambled up from the floor and brushed herself off.

Misty said with a smirk, "Hear that? Even the cops say it's our family business.

"Pay the locksmith already. Don't interrupt our dinner."

Rita got even cockier, tilting her chin at me.

She sneered, "You think you can kick us out? Keep dreaming.

"Why don't you take us to court?"

The officer could only give me a helpless look and offer some advice.

He said, "Ma'am, you know how it is. Even a wise judge can't settle family drama.

"Maybe try talking to your husband first?"

I stared at their cocky faces, and felt a chill deep in my heart.

Talking to that indecisive man who brought trouble right into our home was hopeless.

Negotiating with these shameless, greedy bloodsuckers was even more useless.

I'd finally seen through them.

Expecting them to suddenly grow a conscience and leave on their own was impossible.

I nodded at the officer. "Alright, thanks. I know what I need to do now."

After seeing the police out, I closed the door behind me.

That shut out the nosy neighbors' curious stares.

Misty and Rita thought I'd finally caved, wearing smug, triumphant smiles.

Misty said, pointing bossily at the kitchen, "Glad you finally got it.

"Why are you standing there? Make dinner already!

"Can't you see all the chores piling up? Seriously, have some sense."

I didn't even bother responding to her and walked straight over to the couch.

The little brats were still bouncing on the sofa, scattering chip crumbs everywhere.

With a frosty expression, I strode over to the fuse box.

With a loud snap, I flipped the main breaker.

In an instant, the whole house was swallowed by darkness.

The electric grill shut off.

The TV screen went pitch black.

All I could hear in the living room were the kids shrieking as their cartoons abruptly disappeared.

One kid yelled, "Why did the power go out?

"My cartoons!"

Rita screamed, "Julia! What the hell did you do?"

In the darkness, I let out a cold smirk.

I said coolly, "Nothing.

"The place is a mess. It needs a serious deep clean.

"Since you all refuse to leave, let's see how you like living with no water or electricity."

Since they wanted to stay in my house, I would make sure they would have a hard time living in it.

*****

In the darkness, Misty and Rita's shrill curses cut through the air.

"Julia, you bitch! Are you insane?" Misty yelled.

Rita snapped, "Switch the power back on now.

"My phone's about to die. I'm gonna die without Wi-Fi!"

Rita's son was screaming his head off, so loud it felt like the roof might collapse.

I leaned against the wall, watching the circus unfold with a cold, detached gaze.

I said, "Want electricity? No problem.

"When you finally leave my house, that's when the lights come back on.

"Otherwise, we can all enjoy the darkness together."

Misty, furious, stumbled through the darkness, trying to take a swing at me.

But I was ready for her. I marched straight into my bedroom, slammed the door, and locked it tight.

This was my last stronghold.

They weren't setting foot in here.

Misty was banging on the door like crazy.

She yelled, "Open the door. Julia, let me in

"You are a heartless daughter-in-law. Are you trying to ruin our family legacy?"

I put on my headphones and blasted the music, turning the volume all the way up.

That blocked out all their racket from outside.

They raised hell for a while, but when they saw I was ignoring them, their voices faded away.

With no power, no Wi-Fi, and their phones dying fast, they were left stranded in the dark.

They used to have all the comforts of modern life. This was like hell on earth.

By the time night rolled around, Sterling finally came home.

Misty had called his office and had someone relay the message, so he rushed home in a panic.

As soon as he walked in, he saw the place was pitch black and looked like a war zone.

There were his mom and sister, both with faces twisted in rage.

Sterling blew up instantly.

He stormed over to my bedroom door and started pounding on it.

"Julia, get out of here right now!" he shouted.

Chapter 4

Sterling shouted, "What the hell do you want? They're my family.

"Is this how you treat them? How could you?"

I opened the door and looked at him coldly.

I shot back, "How could I?

"Sterling, how could you?

"How could you bring a bunch of people into our home without my permission?

"How could you let them change the locks and turn my place upside down?

"How could you have the nerve to question me?"

Sterling was stunned, unable to say a word. His face kept switching between red and pale, showing how rattled he was.

Misty was right there, stirring things up.

Misty shouted, "Sterling, look at her. Can you believe the way she's acting?

"We came all this way to see you, and she didn't even offer us a hot meal. She even shut off the power.

"She's trying to put us in our place.

"Why did I ever let you marry such a cold-blooded woman?"

Rita joined in, tears streaming down her face.

Rita cried, "Sterling, look at my kids. They're bawling their eyes out because they're starving.

"We want to crash here for a bit, until we land some jobs. Then we'll get out of your hair.

"Julia is so cold. She doesn't care about anyone."

Sterling felt torn up inside as he listened to his mom and sister crying.

He shot me a look, full of disappointment and judgment.

Sterling said, "Julia, I really thought you were different.

"I figured you were understanding, but I never imagined you'd be this cold.

"They will only be here for a few days. Do we really have to blow things up like this?

"Go turn the power back on, then make dinner for everyone. You need to apologize to them.

I was so angry that I almost burst out laughing.

I asked, "You want me to apologize to them? Are you out of your mind, Sterling?

"You're the ones who should be apologizing.

"Take your family and get out of my house right now.

"If you don't get out, I'll see you in court!"

At the mention of court, Sterling's expression darkened.

But he stubbornly held his head high, refusing to back down.

He retorted, "Julia, don't try to threaten me.

"My name's on the deed too. I get to decide who stays here. It's not up to you.

"I'm telling you right now, Mom and everyone are staying, whether you like it or not.

"If you can't stand it, then leave!"

I was shocked.

I couldn't believe that he said that to me.

I looked at the man standing in front of me. He felt like a total stranger.

This was the man I insisted on marrying, even when my father tried to stop me.

Sterling used to be honest, respectful to his parents, and would do anything I asked.

I thought I'd found someone I could trust with my whole life.

But now, I realized I must've been blind.

All that devotion to his family was mindless obedience.

His so-called honesty was being spineless.

He only ever listened to me because I never touched his family's bottom line.

But the moment his family came into the picture, I was another expendable outsider he could sacrifice whenever it suited him, though I was his wife.

My heart froze to its core.

I said, "Sterling, you have made your decision.

"Don't regret this."

I headed back to my room and grabbed my phone.

Making sure they could see, I dialed a number right in front of them.

"Dad," I said.

My father's steady voice came through the phone.

"Julia, what's wrong?" he asked.

My voice was quivering, but I fought hard to keep the tears from falling.

I said, "Dad, the house you bought for me has been taken over.

"Sterling brought his family over. They've completely occupied my place.

"They changed the locks, shut me out, and now they're trying to throw me out for good."

There was a long silence on the other end.

I could practically feel my father's anger simmering beneath the surface.

After a few seconds, he finally spoke, his voice low and steady. "Send me the address.

"I'm on my way."

*****

After hanging up, I felt steady again, like I finally had backup.

Sterling and his family looked at each other, totally stunned that I'd called my dad.

Misty curled her lip and muttered under her breath.

"All this fuss, and she has to call her dad? How childish," Misty grumbled.

Sterling looked pretty uncomfortable.

He knew my dad's temper all too well.

Back when we got married, my dad wasn't exactly thrilled about Sterling.

He thought Sterling's family was nothing special and that he was too much of a pushover. My father worried I'd end up getting hurt if I married him.

I had to beg and plead. Sterling made all kinds of promises before my dad finally agreed.

After all this mess, it was obvious that my father would be furious.

Sterling said, "Julia, did you really have to blow things up like this?

"Do you really have to drag your dad into this? It's awkward.

"Can't we settle this between ourselves?"

I scoffed coldly.

"Handle it ourselves?" I shot back.

Chapter 5

I said, "So your so-called solution is for me to put up with it and let your family trample all over mine?

"Sterling, let me make this clear. No way.

"Today, either they leave, or we get a divorce."

The moment I mentioned divorce, the atmosphere in the living room froze.

Misty and Rita's faces went ghostly pale in an instant.

They acted so fearlessly because they were certain I loved Sterling.

They were sure I'd keep compromising to maintain family harmony.

But they never expected me to actually bring up divorce.

Sterling started to panic too.

He pleaded, "Honey, please, don't do anything rash. Let's talk, okay?

"I'll tell them to leave, alright?"

He turned to Misty Rita.

Sterling said, "Mom, Rita, can't you see how mad Julia is right now?

"How about you two go stay at a hotel?

"Once I've cleared things up with Julia, I'll have you come back home.

Misty blew up as soon as she heard that.

Misty snapped, "Are you seriously telling us to leave?

"Sterling, you ungrateful brat. You marry her and forget your mom?

"She says 'divorce,' and you freak out? Now you want to throw us out?

"We're your mom and sister, for crying out loud!"

Rita joined in the crying, her voice rising in distress.

Rita sobbed, "Sterling, I'm so disappointed in you.

"I came all this way with my kid, hoping you'd help us, and this is how you treat us?

"You let Julia kick us out with a few words. How are we supposed to hold our heads up after this?"

The whole place erupted into chaos. Everyone was yelling at once.

I watched their little circus, not feeling a thing.

My dad showed up fast.

He didn't come alone.

He brought two tall bodyguards in black suits and a shrewd-looking lawyer.

As soon as my dad walked in and saw the chaos and Sterling's family, his face darkened instantly.

He ignored everyone else and marched straight over to me.

He asked, "Julia, are you alright?

"Did any of them touch you?"

I shook my head.

"I'm fine, Dad," I replied.

My dad nodded, then turned to Sterling.

His glare was sharp enough to cut Sterling to the bone.

My dad said, "Sterling, do you remember what I told you when I trusted my precious daughter to you?

"I gave her to you so you could love her and protect her.

"Not so you could gang up on her with your family and make her suffer!"

Sterling was visibly shaken under my dad's overwhelming aura, barely able to get a word out.

"Dad, I didn't mean it like that," Sterling stammered, his voice shaking.

Misty had no clue who my dad was. She thought he was some ordinary relative.

She planted her hands on her hips, acting like she owned the place and playing the senior card.

Misty shot back, "Who are you supposed to be? This is our family's business. What gives an outsider like you the right to boss us around?"

My dad shot her a cold, cutting look.

He said, "I'm Julia's father, and the one who put up the money for this house.

"So, do you still think I'm an outsider now?"

Misty was momentarily caught off guard, but she kept her attitude and refused to back down.

Misty retorted, "Even if you're her father, that doesn't mean you can be so unreasonable.

"Who goes running to her parents every time she feels wronged?

"Besides, my son's name is on the deed too, so why can't we stay here?"

My dad's lawyer, Daley Grant, stepped forward and handed Misty a document.

Daley said, "Hello, ma'am.

"I'm the attorney representing Julia.

"First off, even though this house is registered under both Julia and Sterling's names, the entire payment for it came from my client, Julia's father.

"We've got all the proof, including bank records and the gift agreement.

"By law, this counts as a personal gift meant for Julia alone.

"Sterling's name was only added out of a blessing for their marriage.

"But now, Sterling's actions have seriously infringed on Julia's rights and completely betrayed the purpose of the gift."

Daley paused, pushed up his glasses, his gaze cold and razor-sharp.

He said, "So, here's your official notice.

"First, you are required to move out of this house immediately.

"Second, we will be taking this to court to revoke the property gift to Sterling and return full ownership to Julia alone.

"In other words, not only are you all getting kicked out, but Sterling, you're walking out of here with nothing to your name."

Daley's words were like a bomb going off, sending shockwaves through Sterling's family.

Misty and Rita looked shocked, all the color draining from their faces.

Ninety-five percent of humanity got yanked into a survival world.

The place is a nightmare—harsh terrain, no resources, people throwing punches over a single piece of bread.

And death? Always one step away.

But me? I've got serious real-world survival skills.

Take that toxic Emerald Fungus, for example. Everyone else thought it was certain death. Me? I just stir-fried it in oil. Crunchy, delicious, no regrets.

Then I fed some to a ten-meter-long python. Boom—first kill. Got a bronze chest out of it, packed with loot.

While people were running for their lives from mutant beasts, I'd already built myself a massive floating villa, a sky garden, and a whole empire of fluffy pets.

--------------------------------------

Chapter 1 Welcome to The Sundered Realms

Cynthia Ford had been having a rough time lately.

First, her advisor called her in the middle of her vacation and sent her deep into the mountains. Then she got caught in a sudden storm at the summit and ended up trapped there for two days.

After pushing through one hardship after another, she finally set up the equipment at the designated spot. The moment she turned around, her advisor, her classmates, and even the muddy ground behind them flickered like a glitch and disappeared.

Before she could even react, a dense, green forest filled her vision.

Already on the verge of collapse, Cynthia snapped. She thought, 'Did I push myself too far? No sleep and all that hiking—am I seeing things? Or is this a dream?

'But it feels way too real. I can smell the dirt, grass, and wood. And wait, wasn't my equipment right behind me? How did it turn into a creek? That's the lab's most expensive portable instrument.'

Almost on instinct, she reached into the pocket of her windbreaker for her phone. But there was nothing.

She immediately reached back for her backpack, only to feel the thick fabric of her jacket instead.

[Ding-dong!] A cold, mechanical voice rang out. Cynthia froze. She glanced around, heart pounding, but there was no one there.

[The Sundered Realms loading complete. Current survival version: Blue Star Edition.]

[Five billion Survivors deployed. The remaining Survivors were temporarily sealed due to not meeting current deployment conditions. They will be deployed as survival progress advances. Deployment rules will be released later.]

[The Sundered Realms Official Statement: In this world, all sensations and feedback are real. Death in this world is permanent. Survivors have only one life. You cannot reload saves.]

[This is a trial version. Complete the beginner tasks to unlock more features.]

[Beginner task released.]

A half-transparent notification suddenly popped up right in front of her.

[Beginner Task: Place Shelter.

[Task Description: In The Sundered Realms, a Shelter is necessary for survival. The location you choose will determine your future development potential. Please choose carefully.

[Time Remaining: 1:57:40.]

Cynthia lifted her hand and waved it in front of her face. Even when her palm was almost touching her eyes, the notification didn't move.

She shook her head from side to side, but it stayed fixed in the center of her vision. She even shut her eyes. It was still there.

Hesitating, she said, "Close notification."

The notification instantly broke apart like dust and vanished.

But when she murmured to herself, it came back. It was mind-controlled.

Cynthia's thoughts were a complete mess. She thought that either something in this place had poisoned her, or maybe the pressure had finally cracked her mind, and she was starting to lose it.

There was no way she had actually entered a place called The Sundered Realms. That was insane.

But she couldn't laugh it off. Deep down, she already knew.

From the moment the forest came into view, something had felt off. Broadleaf trees stood mixed with cypress. Thick ferns grew beneath jagged shrubs.

Plants from high altitudes were tangled with lowland species. Things that belonged in tropical climates sat right next to plants that should only exist in temperate zones.

Even if she were hallucinating, she couldn't have imagined something that broke the rules of nature.

Trying to steady herself, Cynthia opened the Menu. A shadowy outline appeared in front of her. She instinctively stepped back a few paces, letting the shadow fall fully across the flat ground by the creek.

[Confirm Shelter placement location. Yes/No.]

Cynthia chose no. It wasn't a bad spot. The ground was level, there was water nearby, and the forest and shrubs behind it offered cover.

But she still had time. She decided to follow the creek upstream for an hour. If she couldn't find something better, she could always run back and make it before the timer ran out.

What she hadn't expected was how hard the path would be.

The flat ground didn't last long. After a short distance and a turn, she found herself on a stretch of rocky shoreline.

She struggled across it, the sound of water splashing against stone echoing around her. Then, all at once, a cliff rose up ahead—nearly 30 feet high—with a waterfall crashing down its face.

Cynthia glanced to both sides, then stopped in front of a gentler route and studied it.

The rock face looked like granite and slanted slightly backward. Unlike most natural cliffs, it was full of small pits that made easy footholds and handholds.

There was no wet mud, nothing that might make her slip. It reminded her more of the climbing walls in some of the open-world games she used to play.

Before entering The Sundered Realms, she had gone through field training. Her hair was tied back so it wouldn't block her vision. Her clothes were easy to move in. She wore high-top hiking boots and a pair of non-slip gloves.

With all that, and considering the height of the cliff, the climb wasn't too dangerous.

It was time to move. Cynthia had some experience with outdoor climbing. By the time she neared the top, she still had almost ten minutes left before her planned return.

For the last stretch, she bent one leg and stepped onto a jutting rock, rose slightly on the toes of her other foot, and grabbed the edge of the cliff with one hand. She tightened her core, pushed hard, and pulled herself up and over.

Cynthia landed cleanly. She brushed the dust off her clothes and took a moment to steady her breathing, then turned to look around.

She had come up about 30 feet away from the waterfall. On the side opposite the cliff was a flat stretch of forest, thick with trees and bushes. Above the waterfall ran a river, much wider than the creek below.

She pushed through the bushes toward it. When her view finally opened up, she froze.

There was no winding river ahead. Instead, she saw a shallow pond, surrounded by trees on three sides.

The pond was about the size of a standard soccer field. At its deepest point, the water only reached her calf. In the middle was a small, raised "island" of about five thousand square feet.

On the right side of the "island" stood a tree. Unlike the tall, towering trees she had seen along the way, this one was only about 15 feet high. Its trunk twisted slightly, and its branches were bare.

Cynthia had sharp eyesight. If she wasn't mistaken, there were faint, glowing green strips on the trunk.

She took off her shoes and socks, rolled up her pants, and stepped into the pond.

The water was clear. Looking down, she could easily see pebbles and water plants at the bottom. It was warmer than she expected, and there were no signs of fish or any other aquatic life.

When she stepped onto a stone at the very edge of the "island," the tree came into clearer view.

The silver-green strips on the trunk weren't strips at all. They were thin green crystals. Some were embedded in the trunk, and even finer ones dotted the branches above. They caught the light and sparkled when she looked up.

Cynthia reached out and touched one.

[Warning: Survivor has not yet placed Shelter. Cannot appraise.]

Cynthia raised an eyebrow. Compared to her spawn point, this "island" would be harder to leave. It was surrounded by water and sat farther from the trees.

But it also had its advantages. The cliff stood behind it. Freshwater was right here. And most important of all, this tree was clearly not ordinary.

The travel problem could be solved. She could move a few larger stones and make a simple path across. The distance wasn't a big issue either. At worst, she'd just have to walk a little more.

In all the games and stories she knew, the unknown didn't just mean danger. It usually meant opportunity.

And Cynthia had always liked a bit of adventure. She stepped back a few paces and chose a spot on the right side of the "island," about three feet from the tree.

[Confirm Shelter placement location. Yes/No.]

[Yes.]

A thin mist spread over the chosen spot. Cynthia reached out, trying to push her hand into it, but it stopped her like thick, solid slime.

[Shelter placement successful. Survivor ID: 46-95083 officially logged in.]

As the mist slowly faded, a thatched hut took shape in front of her. At the same time, several clusters of faint green lights dropped into view. Cynthia looked up and saw something glowing among the twisted branches.

Then a clear, lively voice rang out.

[Survival Year 15400, Gentle Wind Season. Current location: Emerald Sea (District 46). Weather: Clear. Feels like temperature: 70°F. The Astral Society recommended activity: Logging (wood gathering efficiency slightly increased today).]

[Special Warning: Night hides unknown risks. Please return to Shelter before dark.]

[Survivor Menu opened. Resources officially deployed.]

[Beginner task rewards distributed. Random building draw successful. Congratulations! Survivor has obtained Basic Appraisal×1; Wooden Chest×1; Evolving Pier×1.]

[Talent unlocked. Congratulations! Survivor has activated the Talent, Surveying Engineer (Beginner).]

[Surveying Engineer (Beginner): A qualified surveying engineer should have a special map.

[Effect 1: Areas explored by Survivor will be displayed on the map. Survivor may freely mark and annotate it. After special Resource Nodes are collected, their remaining refresh time will be shown.

[Effect 2: Every three survival days, the map automatically marks the nearest treasure chest to the Survivor (Current cooldown: 2:14:53:59).

[Advancement: To be unlocked.]

[Novice Period activated. During this time, gathering efficiency is increased, more treasure chests will appear, and Shelter cannot be attacked. Time remaining: 2:14:53:01.]

[You are neither the first pioneer nor the last lone traveler. Countless footprints have sunk into the mire, and scattered starlight has brushed the sky. The journey that begins here will leave a new mark. The road behind stretches farther than the one ahead.]

The pale blue Menu spread open before her, lighting up Cynthia's eyes.

[Welcome to The Sundered Realms.]

Chapter 2 Cynthia Was Lucky

Cynthia stared at the Survivor Menu laid out in front of her. On the left was her personal information.

[Survivor Profile

[Name: Cynthia Ford

[ID: 46-95083. Name Change Card 1/1 (Display Mandatory)

[Current Region: Emerald Sea (Exploration Progress 1%)

[Shelter: Dilapidated Thatched Hut (Unnamed)

[Talent: Surveying Engineer (Beginner)

[Health: 95/100 (You only got minor scratches after all that walking?)

[Stamina: 51/100 (Given how much you've been moving, your stamina is impressive.)

[Hunger: 75/100 (Did you eat something before logging into The Sundered Realms?)

[Strength: 6

[Agility: 7

[Intelligence: 8

[Luck: 0 (Why do you think you spawned so close to your Shelter?)

[Charisma: 0

[Current Skills: Universal Appraisal (Can appraise most items in The Sundered Realms)]

On the right was the chat channel. The world channel was grayed out. Only private chat and the area channel were active.

[Current District: District 46, Emerald Sea (99458/100000)]

Everyone had just been thrown into The Sundered Realms from Blue Star without warning. Panic was everywhere.

Messages rushed past so fast that they blurred together. Cynthia skipped over most of the emotional outbursts and focused on anything useful.

[Didn't we just lose more people?]

[What does it mean that my random building is a dried-up well?]

[Even the paper in my pocket didn't come with me. And you're asking about your lighter and necklace, huh? Dream on.]

[The Wooden Chest only gave me two bottles of water. Is that normal?]

[I chopped trees for an hour and a half and only got two units of wood. Is the drop rate broken?]

[Trading freshwater for equal food. Check the marketplace.]

Below the chat were several buttons, but only two were lit.

One was the inventory. It only had five slots. Right now, it held the Wooden Chest and the Evolving Pier from the beginner rewards.

[Wooden Chest: The first chest obtained by a Survivor in The Sundered Realms. Opening guarantees Survivor Starter Kit ×1]

[Chest opened. Congratulations! You obtained dried rye bread ×2, bottled water ×2, Survivor Starter Kit ×1]

Each piece of bread was about the size of two fists. The water bottles were 17 ounces. The kit included a wooden axe, a wooden pickaxe, and a wooden shovel. All of them looked crude, like they might break before the trees or rocks did.

Still, someone in chat had been asking about wood drops. That meant the tools had to work.

After opening the chest, it didn't disappear. It stood about as high as Cynthia's calf and felt heavy. When she touched it, a prompt appeared.

[Dismantle chest. Yes/No.]

Cynthia planned to use it for storage, so she chose "No" and placed the water and rye bread inside.

The other button was the marketplace. A hundred thousand people had entered District 46. Some people had already placed their Shelters ahead of time, so there were already plenty of listings, though the prices were all over the place.

[Hay ×1 for any food]

[Berries ×20 for Plank ×20]

[Plank ×1 for rye bread ×2]

Food was clearly the scarcest thing right now.

Cynthia kept up a regular fitness routine. Her advisor was strict, and she often had to do field surveys, so she was used to staying active and eating well. One piece of rye bread wasn't even enough for a single meal.

She needed to head out and explore as soon as possible. But before that, there was something else she had to do.

Cynthia turned toward the tree and used her appraisal skill.

[Unknown: At first glance, it's a tree that seems a little more special than the others. It might have other uses, but you'll need to look deeper to find out.]

Cynthia felt like she'd just been messed with. Still, she forced herself to think positively. In a place like this, "unknown" usually meant something valuable with great potential and power.

With that, she ignored the tree for now and turned toward the hut.

From the outside, the Shelter already looked run-down. Inside, it was even worse.

It was completely empty. The space was barely one hundred square feet. There was an opening where a window should be, but there was no glass. Even when she shut the door, light slipped through every gap.

She didn't need to test it to know how cold it would get at night.

Luckily, she was dressed warm enough. Honestly, a little too warm. The long walk over had left her sweating.

She untied the hard-shell windbreaker from around her waist, then took off the thin down liner and the inner quick-dry pants.

Now she was just wearing a wool quick-dry shirt and windbreaker pants. After that, she checked the new notification that had popped up.

[Current Shelter: Dilapidated Thatched Hut (Unnamed)

[Level: Level 1

[Durability: 10/10 (No durability loss during Novice Period)

[Prosperity: 10 (Even mice would sneak away at night)

[Shelter Rating: A basic thatched hut for beginner Survivors. Can block some wind and rain and meets the most basic survival needs. As for defense... Well, at least the Shelter can't be attacked during the Novice Period.

[Upgrade Requirements: wood ×50, nails ×5, glass ×5]

Cynthia gave the Shelter a name: Island.

She stepped outside and stood at the edge of her Island. To her surprise, the pond that had been empty before now had silver fish swimming in it.

She remembered the system message about "resources officially deployed" and the berries she had seen in the marketplace.

She understood. Resources didn't just mean chests. They included natural resources.

Cynthia let out a quiet breath. She knew how to spear fish, and her aim was good.

There was a small triangular metal badge pinned inside the left chest of her windbreaker. If she ground it thin and tied it to a sharpened wooden stick, it could work as a spearhead.

As long as the fish weren't poisonous, she wouldn't have to worry about starving.

She tapped on the Evolving Pier in her inventory and placed it right in front of the hut. A thin layer of mist spread out, and when it cleared, a narrow pier about three feet wide stretched from the door straight to the edge of the pond.

Cynthia stepped onto it to test it. It felt solid under her feet.

[Shelter Building: Basic Evolving Pier

[Building Description: A pier that grows along with the Shelter. There is a small chance it will mutate to match the Shelter's development. In short, it may seem useless now, but you've actually found something valuable.

[Advancement Requirements: wood ×20]

Cynthia was lucky. She walked along the pier, watching the water as she went.

Besides the silver fish, she also spotted gray shrimp. Just before reaching the shore, something under the water caught her eye in the distance. It looked like a four-sided pyramid.

She looked closer. It was a Wooden Chest, half-buried in the mud at the bottom of the pond, not far from the shore. It looked like it had been there for a long time, its surface covered in moss and water plants.

Cynthia took off her shoes, rolled up her pants, and stepped into the water to get it. While she was at it, she quickly grabbed a crab that was waving its claws around nearby.

She stored the chest in her inventory. As for the crab, she tied it up with some grass and shoved it into her pocket so it wouldn't take up an inventory slot.

Her windbreaker pants had six pockets in total, top and bottom. Before all this, they had held marker rope, chocolate, a multi-tool knife, a portable flashlight, and a windproof lighter.

When she entered The Sundered Realms, all of those had disappeared along with her backpack.

Cynthia took out the wooden axe from the Survivor Starter Kit.

[Wooden Axe: A must-have for beginner Survivors. It has terrible reviews, but you can't live without it.

[Current Durability: 10/10 (Lose one durability for every ten units of wood collected)]

Cynthia stood in front of a thick, straight tree and raised the axe.

Half an hour later, she stared at the single unit of wood in her inventory, then at her stamina, which had dropped by four points. She held the axe in silence and realized this wasn't going to work.

Right now, her biggest priorities were getting food and upgrading her Shelter. The sun was directly overhead. Even if it was exactly noon, she only had six or seven hours before dark.

At this pace, even if she worked nonstop, she'd get maybe fifteen units of wood. That was assuming her stamina could hold up, but she only had 45 points left.

She didn't know how her Strength of six compared to other Survivors. She only knew it was the lowest of her three stats. Maybe chopping trees wasn't the right move for her.

Cynthia put the wooden axe away. She decided to spend two hours exploring deeper into the forest. The return trip should be faster, maybe an hour. That would leave her some time to fish.

She was still uneasy about the system's warning. [Night hides unknown risks. Please return to Shelter before dark.] She had no intention of staying out after dark.

It was time to move. Before leaving, she activated her Talent. A map appeared in front of her eyes, most of it still covered in fog. A small blue dot flickered near the mark that showed her Shelter's location.

That was her best guarantee she could find her way back. Still, she didn't want to take chances. She pulled up several handfuls of long, flexible grass and stuffed them into the pocket by her knee. She planned to tie knots along the way as markers.

Then she grabbed the wooden pickaxe, the one that looked the strongest, and headed into the forest.

Chapter 3 Stormscale Python

Resources really did get redistributed after Survivors placed the Shelter. The forest had way more to offer now than it did when Cynthia had first been hiking around looking for a place to camp.

She picked a few thick, wide leaves and used them like a barrier to pull a grayish-white mushroom out of the ground. The moment the cut surface hit the air, it oxidized fast, turning blue-green.

[Emerald Fungus: Native to the Emerald Sea. Thick, delicious flesh. Only grows in the center of the Emerald Sea. Companion species to the pine. Favorite of the Whitecap. Highly poisonous.]

Cynthia had eaten something similar a few times before, back when she went on a research trip to Yurania with her senior.

That mushroom had been almost the same as Emerald Fungus. This kind needed steady, even high heat to break down the toxins. The usual way to cook it was to stir-fry it in plenty of oil. Anyone without experience could easily mess it up.

Right now, she had no fire, no oil, and no experience. She also couldn't be sure the two mushrooms needed the same method.

Still, after picking all the Emerald Fungus nearby, she couldn't help but feel a little hopeful. They really did taste amazing. Just thinking about them made her mouth water.

[Congratulations! Survivor obtained Emerald Fungus ×7]

Cynthia opened the map. A long line stretched from the Shelter to where she stood now, marking the path she'd explored. She placed a marker at her current spot.

It must have rained here last night. The ground was slick, and mushrooms were popping up everywhere. She hadn't gone far before she found another kind she could eat.

[Plumpcap: Native to The Pigeon Federation. Delicious taste with distinctive flavor. Can be eaten raw.]

Plumpcap looked nothing like anything from Blue Star. It grew on tree trunks and was pretty big, with an oval cap and a creamy yellow color. It looked like a large orange with a stem.

Cynthia took off her gloves, broke off a piece, and popped it into her mouth. Before she even chewed, her eyes lit up.

It felt like a white button mushroom when she broke it, but in her mouth, it turned smooth and soft, almost like yogurt jelly. The taste was hard to pin down. After a moment, she decided it tasted like mild soy sauce.

It wasn't bad. It could replace salt and might even work as a seasoning. It'd probably be good in a stew.

Since Plumpcap wasn't poisonous, she didn't need to store it like the Emerald Fungus. Cynthia used grass to string them together and hung them around her neck.

[Congratulations! Survivor obtained Plumpcap ×15]

Cynthia figured fifteen of them would last her two or three days.

She kept moving deeper into the forest and soon found a patch of deep purple berries. They looked like a mix between blueberries and raspberries, about the size of pistachios.

There were so many that the branches sagged under the weight. Picking them one by one would take forever, so she pulled out her wooden shovel and dug up the whole bush.

[Congratulations! Survivor obtained Deepberry Bush ×1]

[Deepberry Bush: Common berry shrub. Root system damaged by rough excavation. Transplant success rate reduced by 10%]

Still, a 10% drop didn't mean failure. It could still survive.

Cynthia crouched down and checked the hole where the bush had been. As expected, plenty of broken roots were left behind.

Most shrubs could grow again as long as they still had roots. The method was simple: just plant them back in the soil. She planned to take some later and try planting them by the pond.

As for planting near the Shelter in the middle of the pond, that wouldn't work.

Normally, land like that was just sediment, not real soil. Surrounded by water, it didn't hold nutrients well. Anything useful would wash away too easily. If her Island followed normal rules, it wouldn't be good for growing anything.

However, The Sundered Realms didn't seem to care much about normal rules.

Cynthia swung her shovel again. This time, she planned to take all the remaining roots and try planting them on her Island later.

When she dug all the way down, the shovel hit something hard with a dull thud. She cleared the dirt and found a Wooden Chest. It had been hidden well.

After she stored it in her inventory, it didn't take up a new slot. Instead, it stacked with the one she'd found in the pond, showing a small "2" in the corner. That left her with one slot free.

Cynthia bundled up the Deepberry roots and carried them in her hand. She had exactly ten more minutes before she needed to head back.

Ten minutes later, when she should have turned around, she stood among trees shorter than the ones near the pond. Through the trunks, she spotted the curved tips of bamboo in the distance.

In the wild, bamboo was incredibly useful. Bamboo shoots were food. Fresh-cut bamboo often held drinkable sap. The hollow sections could be used to carry water or even boil it.

Bamboo poles could be used to build shelters or block rain. Split into strips, it could be woven into baskets. Sharpened pieces could serve as knives, arrowheads, or even harpoons.

Cynthia immediately decided to give up some of her fishing time.

But when she got closer, she realized something was off. The bamboo wasn't green. It was blue-purple, with black streaks across it like lightning marks.

[Congratulations! Survivor discovered Stormreed Resource Node.]

[Stormreed: Lightning-altered bamboo that is far less flexible than normal. Cannot be used for crafting or as firewood. Absolutely not recommended for construction. An important alchemical ingredient.]

Cynthia took out her wooden axe. Stormreed was much more brittle than normal bamboo. Once she got the angle right, each swing cut down a stalk.

In ten minutes, she had chopped down ten stalks of Stormreed, and her wooden axe had lost one durability point.

So it wasn't just regular wood that wore tools down. Stormreed did too. She glanced over the patch. About four-fifths of it was still standing, and her wooden axe could probably handle it.

She broke off a small piece of Plumpcap and tossed it into her mouth. Just as she was about to keep going, a faint rustling sound cut through the air.

Her grip tightened on the wooden axe. She turned toward the noise, then quickly checked the map. Other than herself and the Stormreed, nothing showed up.

Then she looked up. A cluster of bushes was shaking harder and harder.

Back in college, she'd practiced disc shooting. Her reaction time and moving vision were both sharp. So when something blue-black shot straight at her face, she dropped her stance and swung her right arm forward in one clean motion.

The wooden axe struck it dead on. The thing flew before slamming into a tree with a wet splat. At the same time, a tiny red dot appeared on the map.

She'd played baseball in high school. Her aim was still solid.

But there was no time to feel proud. Frowning, Cynthia kept her distance and got a better look.

It was a snake, about two fingers wide, blue-black with a triangular head. It wasn't dead yet. It coiled tightly, hissing and thrashing.

Sparks crackled all over its body. The voltage didn't look low. The wooden axe had only touched it for a moment, but it already carried scorched, lightning-like marks, faint sparks still flickering along them.

[Stormscale Hatchling: Stormreed Resource Node companion monster. Talent skills: Venom, Constrict, Electrocution. Lives in groups.]

Cynthia's eyes stopped on the last three words, and her heart skipped a beat. She shoved the wooden axe back into her tool pack.

Then a louder, far more terrifying sound echoed through the forest.

[Warning! Warning! Survivor encountered Stormreed Resource Node Guardian Boss Stormscale Python. Warning! Warning! Survivor encountered Stormreed Resource Node Guardian Boss Stormscale Python.]

[Current Survivor attributes too low. Current Survivor attributes too low.]

Before Cynthia could turn and run, she saw something that froze her in place: a wide-open mouth dripping with bright green saliva.

Chapter 4 A Personal First Kill

Cynthia felt like she had never run this fast in her life. The forest that had seemed calm on the way in now felt like something invisible was choking the air out of it.

Every bush felt like a trap. Every rustle of leaves sounded like a warning of death. On the map, the blue dot and the red dot were almost on top of each other.

Cynthia's breathing came out in harsh gasps, loud as wind in her ears, but the hissing behind her was even louder. It was wet and dragging, scales scraping over rotten wood, getting closer and closer.

She dropped low and slid under a fallen tree, rolled twice, then pushed herself up in one smooth motion. A split second later, a heavy crash exploded behind her. Pieces of the dead tree shattered and flew past her ear.

She spun and dove toward a thick cluster of buttress roots. A massive black shadow swept past her ankle, so close that she could feel the air shift. A foul, damp smell hit her nose.

Bang! The snake's head slammed into a tree.

Cynthia didn't hesitate. She twisted, kicked off the ground, and sprinted again. For a split second, her eyes flicked to the map. In two quick steps, she adjusted her direction, lining herself back up with her original path, and kept running.

She couldn't fight it. Not even close. And she didn't have the stamina to outrun it in a straight race. Speed had never been her strength.

The only reason she was still alive was that she could weave through the trees better than it could. But this chase couldn't last forever. It felt like a slow death was closing in.

But this was still the Novice Period. Her Shelter couldn't be attacked.

The sound of the python sliding over the ground came closer again. Ahead, she saw light breaking through the trees.

Right as she burst out of the forest, her foot slipped. She was moving too fast. Her body skidded sideways across wet stone and mud.

She couldn't stop herself until she crashed straight into the pond. In that split second, she saw the python right behind her.

There was no time to reach the pier. She scrambled forward, stomping through the shallow water, slipping, crawling, half-running, until she threw herself into the thatched hut.

Behind her, the python's head slammed into something in midair. A round, faintly glowing shield flashed into view, rippling like water as it blocked the impact.

Cynthia collapsed at the entrance of the hut, her heart still pounding hard in her chest. The edge of the shield was barely a foot from her toes.

The python lay just beyond it, its body slowly shifting. Just its head was as tall as an adult's thigh. Sharp fangs dripped bright green saliva.

Its amber eyes, with narrow vertical pupils, locked straight onto her. Its scales were blue-purple, shining with a metallic sheen under the light. Its body stretched long, more than half of it still dragging through the pond.

All the strength drained out of Cynthia. She fell flat onto her back.

Only then did she realize she had been clutching the Deepberry roots the entire time. The string of Plumpcaps around her neck was a mess. Maybe eight or nine were still good.

She opened the Menu. Her Stamina had dropped to the bottom.

[Survivor Profile

[Name: Cynthia Ford

[ID: 46-95083. Name Change Card 1/1 (Display Mandatory)

[Current Region: Emerald Sea (Exploration Progress 1%)

[Shelter: Island (Dilapidated Thatched Hut)

[Talent: Surveying Engineer (Beginner) (Cooling Down)

[Health: 80/100 (Scrapes with bruising; given your physical condition, no special treatment needed)

[Stamina: 8/100 (If you'd gotten back any later, you would've collapsed on the ground)

[Hunger: 40/100 (You will barely survive if you don't eat anything today)

[Strength: 6

[Agility: 7

[Intelligence: 8

[Luck: 0 (Why do you think you spawned so close to your Shelter?)

[Charisma: 0

[Current Skills: Universal Appraisal (Can appraise most items in The Sundered Realms)]

Cynthia ignored the python's hissing outside. Pulling off her gloves, she grabbed a damaged Plumpcap, tore away the outer layer, and bit into it.

Only then did the pain hit. Her shoulder throbbed from when she had thrown herself sideways to dodge the python. The scrape on her right forearm had broken skin, tiny beads of blood forming along it. Her legs were fine, thanks to her tough pants.

She had almost died. The fear came rushing in all at once, hitting her after everything was over.

If it weren't for the bushes, trees, and rocks slowing it down now and then, the python would've crushed her skull with a single bite a long time ago.

Outside the protective shield, the python grew furious. The "food" was right there, but it couldn't see it or touch it. Its tail slammed against the water, and the low, threatening sound in its throat grew louder and louder.

Out of sight, out of mind. Cynthia pulled off the Plumpcap necklace, forced her tired body to stand, and walked into the wooden house. She shut the door behind her and started taking care of her wounds.

She took a bottle of water from the Wooden Chest and poured half of it over her injury. It wasn't serious enough to need medicine, and it wasn't on a joint that moved a lot.

As long as she rinsed out dirt and bits of grass, she didn't need to bandage it.

Cynthia tilted her head back and drank the rest of the water, then got ready to clean up.

First, she reached into her pocket and pulled out the crab she had tightly tied up with grass. She and the crab stared at each other. She felt a little regret.

Through the window, the sky was still bright. It was late afternoon, the sun not quite down yet. If that python hadn't been outside staring at her like she was dinner, she would've gone to spear some fish.

Right then, something felt off. The python had gone quiet, as if it had left.

Cynthia stood up, walked to the door, and pushed it open. She froze. Her eyes widened.

The python, which had been full of energy even after smashing through trees and rocks, was now lying on the ground, barely moving.

She hadn't been inside for very long, no more than twenty minutes.

Snakes were tough. Even dead ones could still twitch and bite. She wasn't about to take chances. Keeping the protective shield between them, she crouched down and used appraisal.

[Stormscale Python: Stormreed Resource Node Guardian Boss. Enormous body. Extremely destructive. Talent skills: Venom, Constrict, Electrocution.

[Note 1: This Stormscale Python is currently in the molting phase and is temporarily unable to use the Electrocution talent. Note 2: It is currently in a severe state of poisoning.]

Cynthia blinked and understood why it hadn't used any electricity like the Stormscale Hatchling while chasing her. It had been stuck in a molting phase.

But the poisoning surprised her even more.

She thought back carefully, step by step. Her escape path had almost completely overlapped with the route she'd explored earlier. The only poisonous thing along that path had been the Emerald Fungus she'd picked clean.

'Was there some other hidden poison?' she thought. Her expression turned serious.

She pulled out her wooden pickaxe, the tool that looked like it could do the most damage, and brought it down hard on the python's head through the shield.

It felt like hitting solid metal. The recoil almost knocked the wooden pickaxe out of her hands. The two points of stamina she had just recovered dropped right back down.

The python didn't react at all. Only the faint rise and fall of its body showed it was still alive.

It probably wasn't going to suddenly lunge at her. Cynthia grew a little bolder. She used the wooden pickaxe to pry open the python's mouth, then tossed in two Emerald Fungi.

By now, the sky had darkened. She stood there and waited for it to die, still trying to figure out what had poisoned it.

Then she happened to look up. Something bright was moving across the surface of the pond in the distance.

Cynthia narrowed her eyes. Before she could see clearly what it was, a crisp system voice rang out.

[Congratulations! Survivor killed Stormreed Resource Node Guardian Boss—Stormscale Python. Dropped: Stormscale python meat ×10, Stormscale python gall ×1, Stormscale python hide ×1, Stormscale python bones ×1, Stormscale python eyes ×2, Stormscale python venom ×3, Bronze Chest ×1]

[Congratulations! Survivor achieved a personal first kill and obtained a Bronze Chest.]

Her inventory was already full. When the Stormscale Python disappeared, all the drops and rewards fell to the ground with a clatter.

But Cynthia didn't even look at them. She walked to the edge of the pond, crouched down, and reached out.

Her fingers touched the surface of the water. Light flowed around them, glittering like a river of stars.

She saw them clearly now. They were small silver fish with tail fins thin and soft like gauze.

[Moonlight Shoal (Juvenile): One of the endangered species of The Sundered Realms. Only grows in the unknown and lives in groups. Rare guardian fish species. Extremely prone to mutation during growth.

[Current Talent Skills: Venom, Gnaw.

[Note: You should be grateful that resources hadn't been deployed yet when you placed your Shelter. They seem to have accepted you as a rare land-dwelling neighbor after discovering you right in the middle of them the moment they were born.]

Cynthia let out a slow breath. Getting dragged into The Sundered Realms had been terrible luck. But after that, it felt like everything had somehow gone her way.

In her heart, she silently thanked her workaholic advisor who dragged her on field trips year after year.

She thanked her classmates who had gone exploring with her. She even thanked herself for giving up her breaks and pushing through long, rough days out in the wild.

Maybe everything she had paid for back then had already been turned into a gift. Cynthia decided she would forgive this world for one minute.

Chapter 1 That Night's Guy

Yvette Yoder had a nightmare in which the harrowing scene of her five elder brothers hurling vicious words at her replayed itself once more. Benjamin Luther's voice was sharp. "Yvette, who do you think you are, badmouthing Marilyn like that?"

Mason Luther cursed angrily, "You disgusting creature. You've been sleeping around with a stranger and now you have the audacity to blame Marilyn?"

Ethan Luther's tone was cruel. "You like sleeping with men, huh? Don't stop till it kills you."

Felix Luther sounded almost bored. "She's all yours. Have fun."

And Quintus Luther added coldly, "I'll cut her tendons to make it more interesting for you."

On the plane, Yvette jolted awake, her breath catching. Those memories from four years ago were burned into her mind. She would never forget them: her so-called brothers, her parents, and Marilyn, the Luther family's adoptive daughter.

Right after her grandmother's funeral, the Luthers showed up out of nowhere. They told Yvette that she was their daughter, who was switched at birth, and that they were taking her home.

For a moment, Yvette let herself believe she'd finally have a real family. But instead, all five of her brothers treated Marilyn like a sister. Yvette was left on the outside, constantly looked down on. Even her parents blamed her for not accepting Marilyn.

Yvette put up with it, trying everything to win their approval, until Marilyn set her up and trapped her into sleeping with a stranger. When she found out the truth and confronted them, the Luthers should stand up for Marilyn.

Thinking about what they did made her eyes go cold. She shut them again, pushing the memory away.

Half an hour later, Yvette stepped out of Janivelle Airport.

Dressed casually with a baseball cap and dark sunglasses covering most of her face, she wheeled her suitcase through the terminal. Even hidden, something about her presence made people look twice.

Midsummer heat hung thick in the air, the cicadas' relentless drone grating on Yvette's nerves. Exhausted from the sun's glare, she finally reached her destination.

As she pushed through the foliage, the metallic tang of blood suddenly filled her nostrils. Her instincts kicked in, and she stepped back as a figure lunged toward her.

"Help me..." A man, covered in blood, staggered forward, barely standing.

Yvette's expression tightened when she saw the blood smeared on her light-colored pants. "Get lost," she said coldly.

"I'll... pay you," he rasped, voice barely audible.

"Not interested." She moved to step past him, but her eyes caught the rosary beads bracelet on his wrist. She froze.

'That bracelet is Grandma's only keepsake. How did it end up on him? No way.' Her heart skipped a beat. She stared at the man, suddenly tense. 'Could he be... that guy from that night?' she wondered.

Steadying herself, she crouched down. "Keep your money. But that bracelet, can I have it?"

The man's grip on the bracelet tightened. He stayed silent.

"Fine then," Yvette said coolly. She planned to wait till he passed out and take the bracelet. She threw a kick at the man and turned to leave.

Gritting his teeth, he forced out, "You can take it."

A faint smile touched Yvette's lips. "Deal." She helped him over to a tree, propped him up, and got to work cleaning his wounds.

About ten minutes later, with the blood cleared away, she finally got a good look at his face. Pale and weak as he was, he still carried himself like someone used to being in charge.

Yvette frowned, thinking, 'Marilyn told me that guy was some homeless man off the street.'

Before she could think it through, hurried footsteps sounded from nearby. Her eyes flickered. In one quick move, she slipped the bracelet off his wrist.

Holding it up toward the now-unconscious man, she muttered, "Deal is done." Then she grabbed her suitcase and slipped away.

Not a moment later, a group of black-suited bodyguards rushed over. When they saw the man on the ground, they shouted in panic, "Mr. Hoffman."

Chapter 2 I've Already Given You Enough Respect

Once she got home, Yvette still couldn't shake the feeling that something was off. She quickly texted Liam: [Pull the guest list from the Grandview Hotel four years ago ASAP.]

Liam shot a reply in seconds. Yvette held her phone tightly, her thoughts racing.

Just then, a cheerful ringtone cut through the silence. Seeing the cute cartoon avatar on the screen, Yvette smiled and the ice in her eyes melted away instantly. She answered, "Hey, babies."

Three little faces soon filled the screen, all talking over each other excitedly.

"Mommy, is this your new house? I love it."

"Mommy, we have a surprise for you."

Their sweet, bubbly voices made Yvette's eyes curve happily. "This will be your home soon, too, sweethearts. I can't wait to see your surprise."

Back then, after Yvette was rescued, she'd spent four months in a coma. When she finally woke up, the doctors told her she was pregnant with triplets.

Her health was so fragile that ending the pregnancy could mean she'd never be able to have children again.

In the end, she chose to keep them. Lucian Yoder and Robin Yoder were boys, both looking like the man she saw today. Sophie Yoder was her little girl.

The thought that she might have run into their birth father right after returning home sent Yvette's emotions into a whirl.

She chatted with the kids a little longer before hanging up. The "surprise" they mentioned was the last thing on her mind.

Right after the call ended, her phone buzzed with a notification. It was an auction invitation. Almost immediately, another message followed: [Yvette, you have to come tomorrow. There's something there you'll want.]

Yvette didn't reply. She scrolled absently through the guest list Liam had sent until the Luther family's names caught her eye. A faint, mocking smile touched her lips.

*****

The next day, Yvette arrived at the auction in a sleek black strapless gown. Stunning as ever, her cool elegance turned heads. Everyone wondered who she was.

Eager to escape the stares, Yvette pulled up the invitation on her phone and handed it to the attendant, ready to slip inside.

"Yvette." A startled voice rang out behind her. Before she could react, Marilyn grabbed her arm, eyes wide with surprise.

Marilyn's face lit up, her grip tightening as she called over her shoulder, "Benjamin. Felix. Quintus. It's really her."

Yvette looked up to see three men approaching: Benjamin, the eldest Luther brother, Felix the fourth, and Quintus the fifth.

"Yvette, I'm so glad you're okay," Marilyn gushed, voice trembling. "Where have you been all this time? We've missed you so much."

Yvette snorted coldly, shaking off Marilyn's hand with clear irritation. "What, disappointed I'm still alive?"

Marilyn's face went pale. She shook her head frantically. "Yvette, no. Are you still mad at me? I-I'll pack and leave right now, I swear—"

"Marilyn, what are you talking about?" The three Luther brothers couldn't bear to see her cry. Quintus stepped in front of Marilyn, glaring at Yvette. "Why are you attacking her the second you show up?"

Felix shot Yvette a look filled with contempt. "You should've stayed gone. Why come back? You're nothing but bad news. And now you're bullying Marilyn again? Do you want another beating?

Benjamin's eyes darkened. He pulled the sobbing Marilyn into his arms and stared Yvette down. "Yvette. Apologize."

Yvette let out a short, cold laugh, watching them fuss over Marilyn like she was some fragile treasure. "Apologize? You should be grateful I'm even giving you the time of day."

Chapter 3 Matthew And Yvette

Yvette's words wiped the smug looks right off the Luther siblings' faces.

Quintus clenched his fists, his voice low and threatening. "Yvette, if you don't apologize, don't expect us to ever forgive you."

In the past, whenever Yvette heard that, she'd always back down and apologize. So Quintus assumed it would work this time, too.

To his surprise, Yvette let out a sharp, bitter laugh and scoffed, "Who do you think you are? I don't need your forgiveness. If you don't own a mirror, go check your reflection in a puddle."

"You." Quintus's face flushed with anger as he glared at Yvette.

"Quintus, don't be mad," Marilyn cut in, putting on her sweet, understanding act. "Yvette didn't mean to pick on me, so she really doesn't have to apologize."

She sounded like she was calming him down, but her tone was dripping with fake innocence and hidden satisfaction.

Quintus fumed, feeling even more protective of Marilyn. "Marilyn, you're too kind. That's why people walk all over you." His resentment toward Yvette only grew.

Marilyn pouted, "Yvette didn't do it on purpose."

As she spoke, she caught sight of the attendant handing Yvette's phone back to her. Marilyn's sharp eyes immediately spotted the word "invitation" on the screen.

Putting on her clueless act, she asked, "Yvette, are you here for the auction? But you know, you can't get in with a digital invite. You need a black card."

As she spoke, she proudly pulled her black card from her bag. "But since we're family, I'll bring you in with me."

"No way," Quintus cut in sharply. "This is a high-end auction. Not everyone can walk in. Besides, that digital invite is obviously fake. If the Schmidt family finds out, we'll be in deep trouble."

"Benjamin, is that true?" Marilyn turned to Benjamin with wide, innocent eyes.

Benjamin stood there, his expression cold and stern. He gave a stiff nod. Even though he couldn't stand Yvette, he still spoke up for the sake of family appearances.

"The Schmidt family has no tolerance for people with questionable character. Don't embarrass yourself here. Go home and beg Mom and Dad for forgiveness."

Yvette let out a cold, mocking laugh, her eyes full of scorn. "My parents have been dead for years. Who exactly am I supposed to apologize to? 'Questionable character'? Are you talking about your own family?"

"Yvette," Benjamin warned, his voice tight. "We never accepted you into the family because you're selfish, you can't stand Marilyn, and you're a liar."

"Oh, really? Then why are you all so desperate to talk to me? You look pathetic." Yvette shot back without missing a beat, leaving Benjamin speechless.

For a moment, the air was thick with tension.

"Ms. Yoder." Just then, a group emerged from the VIP entrance. Leading them was Matthew Schmidt, who brightened the moment he saw Yvette and hurried over. "Why are you still out here? Mr. Schmidt is waiting for you."

Matthew was the Schmidt family's butler and the patriarch, Patrick Schmidt's most trusted right-hand man.

Yvette nodded. "Got it."

When Benjamin saw how respectfully Matthew treated Yvette, his expression shifted dramatically. His eyes widened in disbelief.

'What's going on? Matthew holds a high position in the Schmidt family. Why is he treating Yvette, who's always been a nobody, like she's someone important? Do they know each other? Does Matthew even realize she's from the Luther family?' he wondered.

Before Benjamin could make sense of it, Yvette turned to look at him. For some reason, his stomach sank.

Sure enough, the next second, she said, "Matthew, they're saying my digital invitation is fake and that I can't enter your exclusive venue."

Chapter 4 Running Into Xavier Again

"That's ridiculous." Matthew's expression darkened, and his voice sharpened as he turned on the attendant at the door. "Didn't I make it clear? Only guests with the digital invitation are Mr. Schmidt's VIPs. They use the VIP entrance."

He pointed at the black card in Marilyn's hand. "We've handed out thousands of these black cards. Anyone with money can get one. Are you blind?"

Matthew's words made the Luther siblings flush with embarrassment. Quintus clenched his fists until his knuckles turned white, his venomous glare fixed on Yvette. 'This is all her fault,' he seethed inside.

Yvette watched their expressions shift with quiet satisfaction, a faint smile touching her lips. She turned and said coolly, "Let's go, Matthew."

With that, she walked ahead, Matthew and the others following closely behind her, not one daring to step in front.

Watching Yvette being escorted through the VIP entrance, Marilyn's eyes burned with envy.

Then, something seemed to click in her mind. She lowered her gaze, murmuring almost to herself, "No way. Yvette and Matthew can't possibly be...

"I mean, sure, Yvette lost her self-respect and hooked up with some random guy years ago, but Matthew is old enough to be her grandfather. There's no way."

She made sure her voice was loud enough for the Luther brothers beside her to hear. The moment the words sank in, their faces darkened with fury.

The Luther family was comfortably middle-class, and they had grown up hearing all the dirty secrets of the wealthy. With Marilyn's little "reminder," they instantly jumped to the worst possible conclusion about Yvette and Matthew.

"That woman will do anything for money. She's completely shameless," Quintus muttered, disgusted.

"She's trash. Disgusting. She never changes. I won't let that bitch ruin the Luther family's name," Benjamin growled.

As the men fumed and cursed, Marilyn kept her head down, a cold smirk playing on her lips.

*****

Meanwhile, Matthew led Yvette to a private lounge. The moment she pushed the door open and stepped inside, she was met by a pair of deep, unreadable eyes.

Yvette's heart skipped a beat. Her mind raced, 'What is he doing here?'

Before she could process it, Xavier's eyes swept over her, sharp and assessing. When his gaze landed on the bracelet around her wrist, his pupils tightened. He thought, 'It's her, the one who saved me yesterday.'

"Sorry, wrong room," Yvette said flatly, playing it off like a mistake. She shut the door firmly and turned to leave.

She wanted nothing to do with the man who might be her children's father. Her kids were hers alone; she wasn't about to let anyone take them away.

Inside the room, Xavier let out a soft, derisive scoff. His lips pressed into a thin line as he closed his eyes again.

After meeting with Patrick, Yvette politely turned down his offer to watch the auction from a private box. Left with little choice, he arranged for her to sit in the front row of the general seating.

Seating at the auction was strictly ranked by status. The private boxes were reserved for the city's true power players, the ones who controlled the money.

The first and second rows were packed with influential figures. The further back people sat, the less anyone noticed them.

When Marilyn saw Yvette sitting in the front row, jealousy burned through her. And when she glanced back and caught the conflicted look on Benjamin's face, her nerves tightened.

She quickly leaned in and whispered, "Benjamin, isn't Yvette showing off a little too much? What if people find out about her and Matthew?"

The moment she said it, Benjamin's conflicted expression twisted into pure disgust. He snorted, "She brought this on herself."

"Yeah, she totally deserves it. She's so desperate that she'd throw herself at an old man. She's a disgrace to the Luther name," Quintus sneered.

Chapter 5 Yvette Sets Up Quintus

Quintus was fuming. He wanted to curse Yvette out with every insult he knew. Just picturing her with Matthew made his blood boil.

Seeing everyone so worked up, Marilyn smirked, a flash of smug satisfaction crossing her eyes.

But she quickly put on a concerned face. "Everyone, calm down. After the auction, I'll talk to Yvette. I'll make sure she doesn't keep throwing her life away like this."

Up in the front row, Yvette could feel intense stares burning into her back. She didn't even need to turn around to know who they were. A cold smile touched her lips.

She thought coldly, 'So because I'm sitting up front, they're already getting nervous? They haven't seen anything yet.'

"Thank you all for joining us at today's charity auction," the auctioneer began. "Our first item is a pink diamond, freshly mined and generously donated by the Schmidt family. Starting bid is three million."

The auction was officially underway. As soon as the auctioneer finished speaking, the pink diamond was unveiled. It was about the size of an eye, glowing with a soft, pale pink light, looking absolutely stunning.

Yvette was captivated immediately. 'Perfect timing,' she thought. 'My daughter's favorite doll lost an eye, and I've been stuck on what to replace it with. This diamond is right.'

Without hesitation, she raised her paddle and upped the bid by 150 thousand.

Marilyn watched Yvette raise her paddle and put on a sad, concerned expression. "Quintus, does Yvette want this pink diamond, too?"

Her words made Quintus's disgust toward Yvette spike instantly. "Damn, Yvette. She always has to compete with you for everything." He reached over and gently ruffled Marilyn's hair. "Don't worry. I'll win it for you."

Marilyn nodded, looking up at Quintus with sparkling, admiring eyes. "Thank you, Quintus. I want to give it to Mom. She'll love it."

Quintus smiled, clearly basking in her admiration. Hearing it was for their mother, he felt proud of how filial she was. He raised his paddle. "3,300 thousand."

Yvette raised an eyebrow and glanced over her shoulder. The moment their eyes met, the tension in the room tightened. Quintus jutted his chin out, his gaze cocky and challenging.

Yvette's lips curled into a sneer, her eyes glinting like ice. She coolly raised her paddle again. "3,301 thousand."

"Yvette's doing this on purpose, isn't she?" Quintus snapped, insulted that she'd only raised the bid by a thousand. He barked, "3,600 thousand."

"3,601 thousand," Yvette shot back without missing a beat.

"4,500 thousand," Quintus said, determination clear in his voice.

"4,501 thousand," Yvette replied, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

After that, no matter how high Quintus went, Yvette kept topping him by one thousand each time. It didn't take long for the pink diamond to hit 9,001 thousand.

The other bidders saw that Yvette and Quintus were locked in a war and quickly backed off. The price had already blown past the diamond's real value. They settled in to watch the show.

Marilyn was annoyed, but she knew if they kept going, they'd look like fools. She leaned in and whispered, "Quintus, let it go. I'll get Mom something else for her birthday.

"Yvette probably didn't mean to, but seriously, can Matthew even afford that much?"

To be honest, Quintus was already losing interest. His pocket money was running low, and his usable funds were even thinner.

But Yvette's smug attitude had gotten under his skin, making him lose his cool. Now that Marilyn handed him an excuse, he gladly took it.

Still, he felt frustrated and trapped. Marilyn's words sparked a vicious idea in his mind. A cold, sinister smile spread across his face.

He said, "Yeah, probably. But her money is dirty anyway. Since it's a charity auction, let's make her pay even more."

Benjamin immediately caught on to what Quintus was planning, and alarm bells went off in his head. But before he could stop him, Quintus grabbed his paddle and shouted, "15,000 thousand."

Chapter 6 The Silver Needle

The room erupted in disbelief. Everyone turned to stare at Quintus like he'd lost his mind. They thought, '15,000 thousand? You could buy a pile of raw pink diamonds for that and still have cash to spare.'

Quintus didn't care what they thought. He thought cockily, 'Bunch of idiots. I'm helping the charity. If Yvette keeps bidding, I'll drop out and let her deal with the fallout.'

"15,000 thousand, going once," the auctioneer called. "15,000 thousand, going twice. 15,000 thousand, sold." The gavel slammed down.

The auctioneer beamed at Quintus. "Mr. Luther, the pink diamond is yours. Thank you for your generous contribution to the charity."

Quintus, who had been feeling smug seconds before, suddenly went pale. His mind raced, 'What the hell? Wasn't Yvette desperate for this diamond? Why did she stop?

'15,000 thousand... That's my allowance for three years. And this diamond isn't even worth half that. If Dad finds out I blew that much to look like a fool, he'll kill me.'

For a moment, Quintus was completely flustered. He instinctively looked over at Yvette, only to see her smiling brightly, her lips silently forming two words, "You idiot."

Realizing he'd been played, rage exploded inside him. His blood boiling, he shot to his feet and pointed at Yvette. "Yvette, you set me up. You conniving bitch."

Yvette let out a cold laugh, her delicate face icy. "Can't handle the consequences, Mr. Luther? Nobody forced you to bid that high. Or is the Luther family planning to back out and ruin the charity event?"

With a few words, she'd put the Luther family squarely on the spot. Quintus knew he had no choice but to pay up. If he didn't, the Luther name would become the laughingstock of the city.

Benjamin, standing nearby with a face like thunder, snapped, "Quintus, sit down."

Marilyn hadn't expected things to blow up like this. She quickly stood up to smooth things over. "It's all a misunderstanding. Quintus spoke without thinking.

"I apologize on his behalf. Of course, we support the charity. We won't back out of the purchase."

Quintus felt a flash of annoyance. 'I'm the one who got played, and now I'm the one to apologize? Marilyn is making me sound like some kid who can't control himself.'

Once Marilyn apologized, the tension in the room eased.

Yvette watched as Marilyn defused the situation with a few careful words, and then smirked coldly and let it go.

"Alright, everyone, let's settle down," the auctioneer said, stepping in. "The auction continues. Next, we have one-of-a-kind silver needles.

"Centuries ago, the founder of Healer's Valley used these needles to perform the legendary Shadow Revival Needle. Even though the technique has been lost to time, the needles remain incredibly rare. Starting bid is 10 million."

As soon as the item was announced, the room buzzed with excitement. The Shadow Revival Needle was rumored to bring the dead back to life. Even without the technique, the needles alone were priceless.

This was exactly what Yvette had come for. Patrick had tipped her off about it. She straightened up, her expression focused as she raised her paddle. "300 million."

Her bid was thirty times the starting price, stunning the room into silence. All eyes locked onto her.

Marilyn froze, remembering how Quintus had been burned. She figured, 'If Yvette's pulling the same trick, I'm not falling for it.

Chapter 1 Kicked Out

"Get out!"

David Grant glared at the girl leaning back on the sofa. His voice trembled with suppressed rage.

"Natalie Moore, we've done more than enough by raising you. Now you're pulling this petty thievery?"

"You've humiliated this entire Grant family!"

"Honey, why even waste your breath on her?" Julia Wilson sat nearby, arms crossed, her face full of disgust.

"She was raised in the sticks by that old woman, no manners, no education. Just a useless, low-class brat."

Julia sneered, "If it wasn't for the old lady's deathbed wish two years ago, she wouldn't even be fit to step through our front door.

"Now that our Isabelle is back, it's time for this girl to go back to the gutter where she belongs!"

Natalie Moore acted as if she couldn't hear the noise. Her long, slender fingers traced a light line across the expensive velvet sofa.

After a long silence, she finally looked up.

Her eyes were cold and distant, clouded with a faint mist that made them impossible to read.

"I didn't take it," she said.

Her voice wasn't loud. It carried a slight rasp, as if she had just woken up.

No begging, no crying, just a calm statement of fact.

David was infuriated by her indifference. "Not you? Then did I put that necklace in your backpack myself?"

"The evidence is right there, and you're still lying!"

"Just leave," Julia snapped. "From this moment on, the Grant family has nothing to do with you, Natalie Moore."

The servants nearby began to whisper. "Look at her acting all high and mighty. Who does she think she is?"

"Exactly. Just an adopted stray. If the old lady hadn't picked her up off the street, she'd be dead in a ditch somewhere. Isabelle is the real deal."

"You can't even compare them. Isabelle is a medical prodigy. Nineteen and already a protege to a top surgeon."

"Natalie? She just skips class and gets into fights. Total trash."

*****

Natalie shot a single, cold look at Julia before slowly rising to her feet.

Her long brown hair spilled over her shoulders, framing a pale face that looked almost translucent under the lights.

Dressed in a simple black tee and jeans that hugged her lean yet striking frame, she wore no jewelry, yet carried an aura that kept everyone at a distance.

Standing 5'7", she had a natural, icy poise that made it feel as if she were looking down on the entire room.

Julia felt a sudden tightness in her chest just from Natalie's gaze. For a second, the insults she had prepared got stuck in her throat.

She hated this—hated how Natalie always looked like the one in control, even when she was being thrown out.

But Natalie had already looked away, as if staying for even a second longer would be a total waste of her time.

Natalie didn't say another word. She grabbed her white backpack from the marble coffee table, tossed the silver necklace onto the surface with a clatter, and headed for the door.

The night wind rushed in, catching a few stray locks of her hair.

At the entrance, she ran into Michael and Isabelle Grant.

Michael Grant stood there in a sharp, dark suit, his features a striking reflection of David's.

The moment he saw Natalie, his brow knit in a deep scowl, a flash of pure annoyance and disgust crossing his eyes.

"Where do you think you're going?"

His tone was arrogant and cold.

Natalie didn't even blink. She tried to walk past him,

but Isabelle stepped forward, blocking her path.

Isabelle was dressed in a cream, knee-length dress, her silky long hair cascading softly over her shoulders. With her subtle, elegant makeup and a perfectly timed look of concern, she looked every bit the picture of a worried sister.

"Natalie," she whispered, biting her lip as she looked at Natalie's bag.

"Is it because of me? Mom and Dad were a bit harsh, please don't take it to heart."

She reached out, appearing as if she wanted to grab Natalie's arm in a comforting, sisterly gesture. "I really don't mind about the necklace. Natalie, if you liked it that much..."

She didn't finish the sentence, but the implication was clear: Natalie was a jealous thief, and Isabelle was a saint.

Watching from the sidelines, the servants were more convinced than ever of Isabelle's pure heart, while Natalie's cold silence only made her look like a bitter, ungrateful brat.

"Isabelle is trying to help you," Michael growled. "Don't be ungrateful. You messed up, own it."

Natalie finally stopped. She looked Michael dead in the eye. "Can you shake your brain until it's level before you speak to me?"

"You..."

Michael scowled, ready to launch into a lecture, but a sharp voice from inside cut him off.

"Natalie Moore has absolutely nothing to do with the Grant family from this moment on. Throw her out!"

Isabelle's eyes flickered with joy, but she quickly put on a pained look.

"It's all my fault. I never should have bought that necklace for my teacher's birthday. If I hadn't come home, none of this would be happening..."

she choked out, wiping away a few stray tears for effect.

Michael immediately pulled his sister into a hug. "Don't say that, Izzy. It's not your fault some people are just rotten inside."

He looked back at Natalie with pure contempt, as if she were something filthy stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

"You heard the man! Get out! Every second you stay here is polluting the air of this house."

Natalie narrowed her eyes and stepped toward Isabelle.

"You know exactly who took it, don't you?"

"Keep the act for your mother. It makes me sick."

Without waiting for a reaction, she headed straight for the door.

She didn't want to waste another breath on them. It was pointless, and frankly, she couldn't care less.

If it hadn't been for her grandmother Matilda's sake, the Grants would have been dealt with a long time ago.

It was Matilda Moore, not the Grants, who had actually raised her.

She even took Matilda Moore's last name.

Matilda had always insisted that education was the only way to change one's fate, constantly nagging her to get into a top university.

That was the only reason Natalie had played the part of a quiet, obedient student for the past two years.

Natalie Moore walked out of the villa district with her backpack slung over one shoulder. Cabs were hard to catch around here, so she pulled out her phone and scanned a nearby shared electric scooter.

*****

It had rained earlier, leaving the ground damp and the breeze pleasantly cool.

After her grandmother passed away, Natalie had been moved to Seaside City for school, but she usually stayed in the dorms. She had only visited the Grant house a handful of times, spending the rest of her time in Harbor City.

With the SATs starting tomorrow, she needed to find a place to crash for the night.

Natalie cruised along the side of the road, where the streetlights were dim and flickering.

She had a lollipop tucked in her cheek, her mood noticeably lifting now that she was away from the Grants.

But a second later, a black sedan roared past without warning, hitting a massive puddle with pinpoint accuracy.

Splash!

A wall of muddy water shot up, drenching Natalie from head to toe.

Her wet hair clung to her face and neck, dripping with murky water.

Her white backpack was stained so badly you couldn't even tell what color it used to be.

"Shit!"

Natalie froze in shock for a beat, then gritted her teeth and twisted the throttle to the max.

Immediately, a flat, robotic female voice chirped:

"You are speeding. Please ride safely. Speed limit is 10 miles per hour."

Natalie: "..."

She narrowed her eyes at the car disappearing into the distance. "License plate P444..."

Chapter 2 The Mitchells

Meanwhile, at the Mitchell estate in Harbor City.

Inside the brightly lit living room, the air was so thick with tension it was suffocating, yet there was an underlying current of uncontrollable excitement.

William Mitchell sat behind a massive mahogany desk. A man who had survived decades in the cutthroat business world without ever showing his hand

was now struggling to keep his hands from trembling.

"Are you certain?" His voice was low, each word forced out of his throat.

The man standing before the desk bowed. "Sir, we've double-checked everything," he said firmly.

"Seventeen years ago, the time and place where the young miss went missing while visiting friends with her grandmother perfectly match the records of an infant girl adopted by Mrs. Grant in that same area. The age is a perfect match, too."

He paused, handing over a grainy, enlarged photograph.

"Most importantly, this is a candid photo taken two years ago when the Grants brought her back to Seaside City."

A pale, shaking hand reached out for the picture.

Charlotte Mitchell gripped the thin piece of paper so hard her knuckles turned white.

The girl in the photo shared nearly eighty percent of her features, if anything, she was even more stunning than her mother.

She stared at the girl in the plain T-shirt, whose gaze was distant and cold, and tears immediately blurred her vision.

With a face like that, they didn't even need a DNA test!

"It's her. This is my baby girl!"

Her tears began to fall, her eyes full of heartache as she choked out, "Why is she... why is she so thin?"

William walked around the desk, his own eyes rimmed with red, and pulled his wife into his arms.

The other three men in the room were the Mitchell brothers. Andrew, 30, was the current CEO of the Mitchell Group.

He had cut a major international meeting short the moment he heard the news.

Even with his usual composure and restraint, he couldn't stop his heart from racing.

He had spent seventeen years searching for her, dropping everything to rush home every time a lead popped up, even if they had all been dead ends before.

But they always held onto that shred of hope, what if this time was the real deal?

And finally, it was.

"Mom, don't worry. I'm going to Seaside City right now to bring her home."

"I'm coming with you, Andrew."

This was Ethan Mitchell, 28, the top lawyer in Summerset.

He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his sharp gaze filled with a cold, undeniable intensity.

"How did the Grants treat her? What has her life been like all these years?"

The assistant spoke respectfully. "The young miss was only brought to the Grant house two years ago after Mrs. Grant passed away. She was living in the countryside before that, which is why she stayed off our radar."

"However, she doesn't seem to get along with the family. She usually stays in the dorms, and just today..."

He trailed off.

"What happened today? Spit it out!"

Ryan Mitchell, the youngest, jumped off the sofa in frustration.

He was usually the playful one, but hearing about his sister's situation had him on edge.

"Today she was kicked out. And she's supposed to take the SATs tomorrow..."

"So, as of right now, we don't actually know where she is."

Before he could finish, the door slammed open.

Blake Mitchell stormed in.

His black sleeves were rolled up haphazardly, his collar unbuttoned to reveal a sharp collarbone. He looked travel-worn but radiated a dangerous energy.

The Mitchell brothers had been raised with a lot of freedom, leading them into very different fields. Blake had always been obsessed with weapons and now ran the underworld.

He had just finished dealing with a traitor when the news reached him, prompting an immediate flight back on his private jet.

"The Grants... unbelievable. Her exams are tomorrow, and they throw her onto the streets tonight."

His voice wasn't loud, but it sent a shiver down the assistant's spine.

"The jet is waiting. Let's go! I can't get through to Jason, he's filming in the mountains. So we're leaving without him. Finding our sister is the priority!"

Blake had the worst temper of the five. He was ruthless and moved like a lightning strike.

Aside from that one guy from the Pierce family, everyone else in Harbor City gave him a wide berth, terrified of accidentally crossing him and disappearing.

The other three brothers stood up in unison. "Let's go."

Charlotte wanted to go too, but Andrew stopped her. "Mom, stay here. I'll make sure everything is handled."

William chimed in, "Listen to him. Let the boys handle it. You don't want her first impression of you to be how exhausted you look right now."

"Mom, I'm worth two people on my own!" Ryan promised, thumping his chest.

"I'll bring her back in one piece, not a hair out of place! I'll personally crush the Grants, the Lawrences, the Kings, and whoever else into dust for her!"

"Nobody messes with Ryan Mitchell's sister!"

Charlotte couldn't help but laugh through her tears at his antics, which lightened the heavy mood just a bit.

Looking at her sons' determined faces and then at her daughter's thin face in the photo, she fought back the urge to fly to Seaside City herself and nodded.

"Fine. I'll wait here. Just be careful, and take care of her."

"Don't worry, Mom." Ethan's voice was soothing, but the look behind his lenses remained razor-sharp.

Blake was already out the door, with Andrew, Ethan, and Ryan close behind him.

Soon, the roar of engines echoed outside the estate as the private jet cut through the night sky, racing toward Seaside City.

*****

While they worried about her being homeless, their sister was standing in a hotel lobby looking like a mess, her once-white backpack dripping muddy water onto the floor.

With a look of pure annoyance, Natalie Moore tapped on the window of a black Bentley parked out front. The license plate read: P444.

There happened to be a hotel right nearby, and as luck would have it, this was where they had stopped.

Fine by her. Saved her the trouble of tracking them down.

Lewis, the assistant in the driver's seat, had just turned to speak to the person in the back when a dark figure appeared at his window, making him jump.

"Holy...!" he blurted out.

The passenger in the back clearly noticed too and signaled him to go deal with it.

Lewis composed himself and stepped out, his tone professionally distant and wary. "Miss, can I help you with something?"

Natalie had wiped her face clean. When Lewis saw her, he froze, completely dazed by her looks until she shoved her phone screen in front of his face.

Still, she looked strangely familiar, like he'd seen her somewhere before.

Natalie gestured for him to look. The screen showed a security feed. She had hacked the local cameras and pulled the footage moments ago.

The video showed her riding her scooter, the black Bentley speeding through a puddle, and a perfect fan of muddy water drenching her from head to toe.

It was high-def, crystal clear, and the license plate P444 was impossible to miss.

Chapter 3 He's My Uncle

Lewis: "..."

He really hadn't noticed anyone on the side of the road at the time.

He instinctively glanced back at the rear seat.

Henry Pierce had lowered his window at some point, his gaze fixed on Natalie Moore's face.

The light inside the car had been dim, but now, under the hotel's entrance lights, he could finally see her clearly.

Even though she looked like a mess with a bit of mud still on her face, it couldn't hide her striking features and cool, detached aura.

Her eyes were dead calm, no accusations, no brown-nosing, not even much emotion. She just laid out the facts and waited to see how he'd handle it.

"My apologies. It was a lapse on our driver's part,"

Henry spoke, his voice deep and smooth with the natural authority of a man used to being in charge. "We've caused you a great deal of trouble. Lewis, take care of this."

Lewis quickly snapped out of it and turned back to Natalie, his manner much more formal.

"Miss, I am truly sorry. How about this? We'll cover the cleaning and compensation for your clothes. Also, if you'd like, we can book a suite for you here so you can freshen up."

He gestured toward the five-star hotel in front of them.

"Fine," Natalie replied.

Since they were being reasonable, she didn't push it.

She calmly added, "Get my backpack cleaned, and have a set of comfortable clothes ready for me."

She rattled off her size, her tone completely flat.

"Of course, Miss. May I ask your name? Again, we are very sorry for the mishap. Here is my card, feel free to contact me anytime."

He handed her his business card.

Natalie gave a small nod as she took it. "My last name's Moore."

Lewis called over the hotel manager and gave him some quiet instructions.

The manager turned to Natalie with a helpful smile. "Miss Moore, please follow me. Your suite is ready, and we'll have professionals handle your bag and clothes immediately."

Natalie followed the manager into the elevator.

Once she was gone, Lewis opened the car door for his boss. "Sir, Miss Rowan has checked into Room 1809. She used her own ID to register."

Henry Pierce stepped out in a minimalist light grey lounge suit. Standing at over six-foot-three, he cut an imposing figure even in the vast hotel driveway.

His handsome face was unreadable, showing neither anger nor warmth.

"Call the Rowans," he said as he walked. "If they can't take care of a child, the Pierces will. If they have a problem with that, they can come talk to me in person."

Lewis felt a chill. He knew his boss was genuinely furious and was going to forcibly remove Rosie from the Rowan family.

It was understandable, though. Rosie was his late sister's only child, and the Pierces were fiercely protective of their own.

After her parents died in a car crash eight years ago, ten-year-old Rosie had become increasingly withdrawn.

When the Rowans' second son took over the family, Henry wanted to take her in, fearing she'd be mistreated. But her paternal grandparents insisted on keeping her close for sentimental reasons.

Since they were her flesh and blood and Rosie had agreed, he hadn't pushed it.

But since then, Rosie had grown distant. She almost never reached out unless Henry contacted her first.

So, Henry had to resort to keeping tabs on her in secret, worried something might happen.

The moment she ran out in tears tonight, Henry got the word.

Kicking her out the night before the SATs, and not a single Rowan had come looking for her. There was absolutely no excuse for that.

"Understood. I'll take care of it right away," Lewis replied.

He kept pace with Henry while quickly tapping away on his phone.

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.

The polished mirrors inside reflected Henry's thin, pressed lips and dark, brooding eyes.

He remained silent, but the sheer pressure radiating from him made the small space feel heavy.

They reached the 18th floor. The hallway was empty and silent.

Following the room number provided by the hotel, Lewis led Henry to Room 1809.

Henry stopped at the door and gave it a sharp, firm knock.

After a couple of seconds, a muffled, congested voice came from inside. "Who is it?"

Henry's brow furrowed. "It's your uncle. Open up."

The room went silent for a beat, followed by the faint scuff of slippers on the floor.

The lock clicked, and the door creaked open just a crack.

Rosie Rowan's chubby face peered out. Her eyes were puffy, her nose was red, and tear tracks were still fresh on her cheeks.

When she saw it really was Henry, she instinctively shrank back, her eyes full of distance and fear.

Her lips trembled. "Un... Uncle Henry? What are you doing here?"

Seeing her like this, Henry felt a surge of mixed emotions.

His throat tightened. "Did they hurt you?"

Rosie kept her head down, refusing to look at him or answer.

After a pause, she mumbled, "No... I'm fine, Uncle."

Henry didn't push it. "Get some rest. I'm driving you to the exams tomorrow."

Just then, the door to 1808 opened.

A hotel staff member arrived with a service cart to pick up the dirty laundry and the backpack.

Natalie had just showered and changed into a cotton lounge set provided by the hotel. Her hair was damp and loose over her shoulders, a few wet strands clinging to her neck.

Without the mud and the mess, her skin had a slight glow from the hot water. She still looked cool and detached, but there was a new clarity to her features.

She couldn't miss the three people standing right there, and her eyes met Rosie's panicked gaze.

In an instant, Rosie's expression shifted.

The fear and distance she'd shown Henry vanished, replaced by pure joy and heartache.

Without a second thought, she let go of her door and ran out barefoot. Under the stunned gazes of Henry and Lewis, she threw herself at Natalie.

She wrapped her arms tightly around Natalie's waist, burying her face in the girl's shoulder, which smelled of fresh soap and steam.

"Natalie, what are you doing here?"

Rosie's voice was thick with sobs as her tears finally spilled over, coming much faster than when she was alone.

"They... they were all so mean to me... waah..."

The sudden turn of events left everyone speechless.

Lewis's jaw dropped. What is going on?

Henry was equally surprised, his gaze turning to Natalie with newfound curiosity and scrutiny.

Natalie was clearly a bit surprised herself, but she regained her composure instantly.

She didn't push Rosie away. Instead, she reached up and awkwardly patted the sobbing girl's back. It wasn't exactly a motherly gesture, but it had a grounding strength to it.

After crying for a while, Rosie seemed to notice the awkward atmosphere. She sniffled and spoke up sheepishly.

"Sorry... Natalie, this is my uncle."

Chapter 4 Hacker 73

"She's my deskmate, Natalie Moore."

Natalie and Henry Pierce locked eyes. She gave him a polite nod.

"Miss Moore, what a coincidence. I had no idea you and Miss Rowan were such good friends."

Lewis stepped forward, a professional smile plastered on his face.

"Talk about a small world! We didn't realize we were on the same side. Miss Moore, please accept my apologies again for earlier."

Natalie wasn't bothered anymore. "It's fine. It's settled."

Rosie watched the exchange, sensing that something had happened between them, but she didn't pry.

"Hello. Henry Pierce."

Henry extended a hand—broad, with well-defined knuckles.

Natalie's eyes lingered on his hand for a second before she reached out. Her fingertips met his in a brief, fleeting handshake.

"Natalie Moore."

Henry withdrew his hand, his tone casual. "Do you live here in Seaside City, Miss Moore?"

"Yeah."

"I didn't realize your exams were tomorrow. I'll have Lewis drive you home so your parents don't worry."

He kept his eyes on her face, watching for even the slightest flicker of emotion.

Natalie crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "No need. They won't be worrying."

"Why's that?"

Lewis was the one who asked. He couldn't stop watching her; there was something unexplainable about the way she carried herself.

Few people remained this calm when his boss addressed them. After all, everyone in Summerset knew the Pierces and the ruthless reputation of their current head.

Making a deal with the Pierces, even just catching their table scraps, was enough to change a family's social standing forever.

The moment the words left his mouth, Lewis regretted it. He wanted to slap himself for prying into her personal business.

He was about to apologize when Natalie spoke up.

"Because I don't have parents."

Her voice was lazy, followed by a casual yawn.

The hallway went silent for a beat. Lewis really wanted to kick himself now.

He looked at Natalie with pure guilt. No wonder she's so thin and detached, he thought. She's just putting on a brave face.

Stupid mouth. Stupid, stupid mouth.

Henry's gaze grew even more intense. 'An orphan, huh?

Interesting...' he mused.

Natalie looked down and scuffed her toe against the hallway carpet. Even without looking up, she could feel them both analyzing her.

Her brow twitched slightly. "I'm going to bed."

It was a statement, not a request.

She looked up with an expression that clearly said: Are we done here? Because you're in my way.

Lewis was stunned again. He'd never seen anyone take that tone with his boss. She was definitely a first.

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Alright. We'll leave you to it."

Natalie nodded, then looked at Rosie before closing the door. "Stop crying. Good luck on the exam tomorrow."

"Mhm, will do!"

Rosie nodded eagerly, her little top-knot bobbing up and down. It was actually quite cute.

Once the door clicked shut, she looked at her uncle, feeling a bit less intimidated than before. "Then... Uncle Henry... I'm going to sleep too..."

She shuffled quickly back into Room 1809.

"Yeah. Get some rest."

Only after hearing that did she finally close her door.

As Henry walked away, he glanced back at Room 1808. "Run a check on her."

"Yes, sir."

*****

Inside 1808, Natalie had just lied down when her phone rang. The caller ID read: "Blondie."

"Yo, Boss!"

A male voice boomed through the receiver.

"What's up?"

The guy chuckled. "Boss! SAT exam tomorrow! The boys got you a massive 'Top Scorer' flower display. We're dropping it right at the exam hall entrance—dead center! We even hired two lion dance troupes to cheer you on. We're gonna intimidate every other kid there!"

Natalie: "..."

She was silent for three seconds. Her voice was flat. "Cancel it."

"Huh? Why, Boss? Every other kid has parents there. The head of the Phoenix Syndicate needs to show up in style!"

Blondie wasn't giving up.

"Style?"

Natalie's tone turned chilly. "Great idea. Why don't you just send our enemies a GPS pin and tell them to come start a shootout?"

"Uh... cough..."

Blondie cleared his throat. "Boss, I was just kidding. I'm not that stupid. I'm the second-in-command of the Phoenix Syndicate, one of the biggest powers in Summerset. People's opinion of me..."

"Anything else? Or can I hang up?"

Natalie didn't have the patience for his nonsense and cut him off.

"Wait, wait! There's actually something!"

He quickly pivoted before she could end the call.

"Speak."

Blondie: "The feds seem to be looking for you. Well... technically, they're looking for 'Hacker 73.' Want to respond?"

Natalie's long, pale fingers tapped rhythmically against her phone. She had a good idea why.

A few days ago, Yamato had made some vague, disrespectful comments about Summerset, sparking outrage both at home and abroad.

The official government response had been dignified as usual—measured, logical, and firm.

Natalie happened to be in a bad mood at the time. So, she casually breached the core database of Yamato's National Security Defense Network.

Blondie knew exactly what she was talking about. He was in awe of her. "Seriously, Boss, that move was legendary. Everyone's cheering!"

That day, every public screen in Yamato had been hacked to scroll apologies in their own language. The messages ranged from "We're sorry" to "Sincere apologies," looping for twenty-four hours straight.

Their entire national network went down. Dozens of high-level projects—weather forecasting, materials simulation, nuclear physics—ground to a halt for forty-eight hours.

Even now, Yamato's firewall wasn't fully repaired. Hackers were wandering in and out as they pleased, and the authorities were powerless to stop them.

Citizens of Summerset didn't know who was behind it, but seeing the chaos in Yamato and the cryptic news reports, they all shared a knowing smile. Whoever did this is a legend, they thought.

Blondie chuckled. "Boss, Yamato's Cyber Security Bureau is losing their minds. The bounty on your head just went up again. Our own government probably wants to see who you are and recruit you."

Natalie gave a faint hum. "Ignore them."

*****

The next day, Natalie changed into a simple cream-colored t-shirt and matching track pants that Lewis had sent over.

There was a knock at the door. Lewis and Rosie were standing outside.

"Morning, Natalie!" Rosie chirped, waving a chubby little hand.

"Good morning, Miss Moore." Lewis greeted her as well.

Natalie gave a slight nod. "Morning."

Lewis handed her the white backpack, now perfectly clean. "Your bag, Miss."

Chapter 5 A MOIRÉ Original?

"Thanks."

Natalie took the bag and tucked her things inside.

Lewis watched her, his eyes filled with pity as he recalled the background check he'd run.

He never expected her life to be such a tragedy...

She had scraped by in the countryside with the grandmother who adopted her. After the old woman died, she was brought to the Grants. They called it "adoption," but they hadn't given her a dime in two years.

Lewis couldn't imagine how she'd managed to juggle school while working to feed herself.

And then, to be kicked out the night before the SATs without even a place to sleep.

She and Miss Rowan were in the same boat, except Rosie had Mr. Pierce. Natalie had no one.

Even her backpack was a knock-off. The legendary designer MOIRÉ had never made a backpack, and judging by the wear and tear, she'd probably been using this one for years.

Natalie shut her door. If she knew what he was thinking, even she wouldn't be able to keep a straight face.

"Miss Moore, Mr. Pierce is driving Rosie to the exam center. You should come with us."

Natalie nodded. "Sure. Thanks."

Lewis led the way while Rosie happily linked arms with Natalie. "This is great! Who knew we'd end up getting kicked out at the same time? Hahaha!"

Natalie: "...Heh."

They had been deskmates for two years, one ranked dead last in class, the other second to last.

Rosie was a bit chubby and soft-hearted, making her an easy target for bullies until Natalie showed up and put a stop to it.

To Rosie, someone who could protect her and keep her from being the very bottom of the class was basically a goddess.

Plus, Natalie was so gorgeous that she'd dethroned Rosie's annoying "Prom Queen" sister the moment she arrived. Rosie was officially Natalie's number one fangirl!

Rosie whispered, "My uncle has such a weird temper; he scares me to death. I have no idea why he showed up yesterday, but thank god you're here!"

*****

In the three minutes it took to get downstairs, Rosie didn't stop talking for a second.

Lewis had never seen Miss Rowan this lively before!

Downstairs, the black Bentley was idling in front of the lobby.

Lewis opened the rear door. Henry Pierce was already inside, his long fingers scrolling through world news on a tablet.

The moment the door opened, a calm but commanding gaze shifted toward them.

Henry didn't turn his head, merely tilting his chin slightly. The morning sun filtered through the glass, casting sharp shadows across his chiseled profile.

He wore a perfectly tailored charcoal suit without a tie. His top button was undone, adding a touch of casual ease to his otherwise impeccable elegance.

A subtle platinum watch hugged his wrist, the face catching the light with a cold glint.

Rosie immediately went quiet, her grip tightening on Natalie's arm. "U-Uncle Henry."

"Mhm."

Henry gave a curt acknowledgment as he looked at them.

Rosie instinctively nudged Natalie forward. "I... I'll sit in the front. I get carsick..."

Natalie noticed Rosie's nerves but didn't say anything. She gave Henry a small nod and slid into the back seat.

The door clicked shut, sealing them off from the outside world.

The interior was spacious, smelling of crisp cedar and a hint of expensive leather, which only added to the serious atmosphere.

Natalie placed her backpack in her lap and cracked the window just enough to let in a sliver of a breeze.

She crossed her legs, resting her chin on her hand as she watched the city blur past.

She sat there in silence, her dark hair cascading down like a waterfall. A few stray strands danced in the wind from the window, brushing against her pale, delicate neck.

The sunlight traced her profile—from her smooth forehead to her straight, elegant nose and her thin, pale lips. Every feature looked sculpted, yet radiated a natural, icy grace.

The light danced on her long lashes, casting fan-shaped shadows that hid her thoughts, leaving only a sense of distant tranquility.

Henry switched off his tablet and looked up to see this exact sight.

Though he was a man of legendary restraint who usually ignored women entirely, his gaze lingered on Natalie for a rare, frozen moment.

Up front, Lewis caught the scene in the rearview mirror.

With just one look, he immediately averted his eyes to the road, his mind racing with shock.

He'd worked for Henry for nearly a decade and had never seen his boss look at anyone like that.

Lewis's grip on the steering wheel tightened.

Holy crap!

No way. Is the ice king actually thawing?

But... Miss Moore is only eighteen or nineteen, just like Rosie. Boss is... twenty-six...

Isn't that a bit of a "cradle robber" situation?

Just as the thought crossed his mind, he felt a sudden chill down his spine and met Henry's eyes in the mirror.

Breaking into a cold sweat, he stopped daydreaming and focused entirely on driving.

Henry noticed the white backpack in the girl's lap. The edges were frayed and the fabric was slightly yellowed from washing, but it was perfectly clean and well-kept.

The MOIRÉ logo in the bottom right corner was subtle—almost hidden—with clean, flowing lines.

Yet, Henry's gaze paused on that very mark.

"If I'm not mistaken, is your backpack a piece by the master designer MOIRÉ?"

MOIRÉ was a world-class fashion legend known for flawless craftsmanship, an impossibly critical eye, and a notoriously eccentric temper.

No one had ever seen her. All anyone knew was that she was a woman who handled all her business through an assistant.

She only released a handful of pieces each year. Every single one was priceless, and money couldn't buy them—you needed to catch her in the right mood.

Natalie didn't even turn away from the window. She just gave a soft "Mhm."

Henry raised an eyebrow. He'd only just met her, but the girl sitting next to him was nothing like the report, which described a rural nobody, a loser kicked out by the Grants who skipped class and got into fights.

His fingers tapped rhythmically against his trousers. "It's the first I've heard of MOIRÉ designing a backpack."

"Yeah," Natalie replied. "It was a long time ago. She only made this one, and never another. That's why nobody knows about it."

Natalie spoke as if it were the most trivial thing in the world.

Henry's lips twitched into a faint smile, and he let the subject drop.

But Lewis and Rosie were anything but calm.

Lewis's palms were starting to sweat against the steering wheel.

He knew his boss would never make a mistake about something like that!

A genuine MOIRÉ backpack? A one-of-a-kind? And he thought it was a knock-off...

Chapter 1

Emily Sutton stepped into the Sutton residence, feeling the wool carpet under her feet so soft that it seemed unreal.

The air was thick with an unfamiliar, expensive scent, clashing sharply with the faded, well-worn clothes she had on.

In the center of the living room, a family of four was enjoying themselves in perfect harmony.

On the sofa sat Victoria Sutton, elegant and refined, and Richard Sutton, a middle-aged man with a stern expression.

They were Emily's parents.

Beside them, Grace Sutton, dressed in a princess dress, was clinging to the arm of a handsome young man. That was Emily's brother, Michael Sutton.

Emily's arrival was like a stone thrown into a calm lake, breaking the warm family picture.

Everyone's gaze landed on her, scrutinizing and critical, with a trace of hidden contempt.

Emily thought none of her family cared for her, that they all favored Grace instead. Only Alexander Reed saw her differently.

*****

Victoria Sutton was the first to speak, her tone so flat that it was impossible to tell what she was thinking. "So, you're Emily Sutton?"

Emily nodded and kept quiet.

She'd been brought back from a poor rural area, and the bumpy ride had left her exhausted.

The people who picked her up only told her that she was the real Sutton heiress, the one who got switched eighteen years ago.

Richard Sutton frowned, sizing her up from head to toe, his gaze finally settling on her worn-out, yellowed sneakers. "Now that you're back, keep your head down and don't cause any trouble.

"Grace has been with us since she was a child. She's our only daughter."

Those words hit Emily like a cold blade, stabbing straight into her heart.

'So, they didn't bring me back out of love. There must be some other reason,' Emily thought.

Grace Sutton got up and glided over to Emily, her smile as sweet and harmless as ever. "Hey, Emily, you're finally home."

She reached out to grab Emily's hand, but as soon as her fingers brushed against Emily's rough skin, her hand recoiled a bit, almost too quick to notice.

"We're family now. I'll make sure to take care of you," Grace promised.

Michael Sutton strode over, looking down at her with a warning glare. "Don't go after things that aren't yours."

Emily dropped her eyes, masking the hurt in them.

She never intended to take anything that didn't belong to her. All she wanted was a home. But now, Emily realized this place didn't feel like home at all.

The butler led her upstairs, through a wide, bright hallway, and finally ended up in front of a cramped, gloomy storage room. "Ms. Sutton, this will be your room from now on."

The room had nothing but a small bed and an old desk, and the air smelled of dust. It was a world apart from Grace's fairytale princess bedroom.

Emily didn't bother to care. She dropped her worn-out bag on the floor and quietly settled in.

To her, as long as she had a place to keep out the wind and rain, that was all she needed.

*****

That evening, the Sutton family held a dinner, supposedly to celebrate Grace's win at the piano competition. Emily was told to come down as well.

The long dining table was piled high with fancy dishes, but Emily had no appetite. She quietly sat in the corner, doing her best to fade into the background and avoid any attention.

During the meal, Richard and Victoria fussed over Grace nonstop, making sure she had plenty to eat and showering her with warm, loving attention.

Michael even went so far as to peel shrimp one by one, dropping each onto Grace's plate.

No one spared Emily a single glance, as if she were utterly invisible.

"Grace, make sure you do your best at the Reed family's party next week." Victoria's eyes were brimming with expectation as she looked at her. "Mr. Reed is young and accomplished. If you could..."

Grace lowered her head, her cheeks tinged with a shy blush. "Mom, stop teasing me."

Emily listened quietly and thought, her heart feeling like a barren wasteland, 'Turns out, this is why they brought me back. It's to clear the path for their golden girl.'

*****

After dinner, Emily returned to her cramped room. She took out a freshly washed shirt from her bag, the only keepsake left to her by the grandmother who raised her.

As she was about to change, the door was pushed open.

Grace walked in with a glass of water, her sweet smile still plastered on her face.

"Hey, Emily, I brought you some water." As she spoke, she walked over to Emily.

When she got close, her hand jerked to the side. The entire glass of water landed squarely on the shirt Emily was holding.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry, Emily. I didn't mean to do that," Grace exclaimed as a glimmer of smugness flashed in her eyes.

She glanced at the drenched shirt, pretending to apologize. "This shirt's soaked now. You can't wear it anymore. I have a few old clothes I don't wear anymore. If you don't mind, you can take them."

With that, Grace turned to go get them. She acted like she was tossing scraps to a beggar, her whole attitude dripping with condescension.

Emily watched her in silence, not saying a word. She could feel the barely hidden hostility radiating from Grace.

Grace saw Emily keeping quiet and figured she was fine with it. Without another word, Grace went to her room and came back with a crumpled dress.

"Here you go." Grace tossed her dress onto Emily's bed, her tone laced with disdain. "I bought this last year. Sure, it's out of fashion now, but it's miles better than whatever you're wearing."

Emily picked up the soaked shirt and ran her fingers over the creased fabric, trying to smooth it out.

Her grandmother had scrimped and saved to buy her this shirt. It was the only thing in this world that ever made her feel loved.

She looked up at Grace, her words deliberate and unwavering. "No, thank you."

Grace's smile faltered for a moment. She never expected this country bumpkin to actually have the nerve to refuse her. "What do you mean? You think my clothes are beneath you?"

Emily didn't even look at her. She handled the wet shirt with care, hanging it up as if it were something precious. "Please leave."

Grace's face instantly darkened. "Emily, don't push your luck. Do you really think moving back into the Sutton family makes you a real heiress? Stop dreaming. As long as I'm here, you don't belong."

As she spoke, Grace reached out, trying to snatch the shirt Emily had hung up.

Emily's eyes turned cold as she grabbed Grace's wrist in one sharp, swift movement. Her grip was so strong that Grace let out a sharp cry of pain. "Let go of me."

Emily held firm, her stare cold and unwavering. "I told you to get out."

Just then, the door burst open.

Michael stormed in, fury written all over his face. "Emily, what the hell are you doing?"

He caught sight of Grace's red wrist and, without warning, roughly shoved Emily away.

Emily stumbled, slamming into the desk behind her with a dull thud.

Michael pulled Grace behind him, glaring at Emily. "Try touching Grace and see what happens."

Grace hid behind Michael, tears streaming down her face, looking pitiful. "Michael, I was trying to be nice and give her some clothes, but she..."

Michael shot Grace a protective look, his resentment toward Emily deepening. "Apologize to Grace, now."

Emily stood up, brushed herself off, her face blank and unreadable. "I did nothing wrong."

Michael was seething with rage and raised his hand to strike her.

Just then, the butler's voice echoed from downstairs. "Mr. Sutton, Mrs. Sutton, Mr. Reed is here."

Michael froze, his anger vanished, replaced by surprise. Why was Alexander here?

Grace stopped crying, her eyes flickering with delight and nervousness.

She hurriedly wiped away her tears and smoothed her hair, tidying herself up to look her best.

Emily felt nothing when she heard the name. All she noticed was the burning pain in her wrist where she'd been grabbed.

*****

Downstairs in the living room, a tall, imposing man sat on the sofa, radiating an icy aura that warned everyone to keep their distance.

He was Alexander Reed, the heir to the Reed family in Lwroand, the man every socialite in town was dying to get close to.

Richard and Victoria sat off to the side, unable to hide the sycophantic look on their faces. "Mr. Reed, it's truly an honor to have you visit our home."

Alexander ignored their compliments, casting a brief look toward the staircase.

"I heard you finally found your long-lost daughter?" His voice was deep and smooth, carrying a subtle note of curiosity.

Richard paused for a moment, then quickly regained his composure. "Yes, we did."

He gave Victoria a meaningful glance. Victoria caught on instantly and went upstairs to call Grace. Just then, Emily came down the stairs.

She'd changed into clean clothes, still simple, but there was no hiding her delicate beauty and that quiet, unmistakable presence about her. Everyone's eyes snapped to her at once.

Alexander's gaze lingered on her face for a few seconds, something strange and intense flickering in his eyes.

Grace trailed behind, and as soon as she caught sight of Alexander, she immediately switched to looking all fragile and helpless.

"Alexander, you're here." Grace tried to approach him, but Alexander's icy stare froze her in place.

Alexander rose and walked straight toward Emily.

He stopped right in front of her, his gaze deep and unwavering, locking onto her.

Emily felt awkward under Alexander's intense stare and instinctively stepped back.

As everyone was wondering if Alexander was about to do something to Emily, he suddenly spoke. His voice was soft, but everyone in the room heard him clearly. "I'm here to give something back for my grandma."

With that, he took out a fancy box from his pocket. He opened it, revealing a timeless emerald pendant resting quietly inside.

The pendant was engraved with a rose, as if ready to bloom in full splendor.

Everyone was stunned. Richard and Victoria, especially, were frozen in disbelief and shock.

Alexander didn't bother with anyone's reaction. Without a word, he held the box out to Emily. "My grandma said this emerald pendant belongs to the daughter of her old friend.

"That child has a rose-shaped birthmark somewhere on her body."

Chapter 2

A rose-shaped birthmark? The words exploded in the Sutton residence living room like a bomb, shaking everyone to their core.

Richard and Victoria's faces turned ashen, drained of all color in an instant. Their eyes snapped to Grace.

Grace's heart sank, and her face went completely pale.

Grace knew about that birthmark. Since she was a little girl, Victoria had sighed regretfully, telling her over and over that if she had that birthmark, she'd definitely be the Reed heiress.

But now, Alexander had exposed that secret for everyone to hear. And he did it right in front of Emily.

Everyone's eyes automatically shifted to Emily.

Emily stood there, looking perfectly composed, like she wasn't even the one Alexander was talking about. But at her side, her hand tightened without her realizing it.

She had the birthmark right on her lower back, a pale red mark, shaped as a rose.

Ever since she was little, the grandmother, who raised her, had always told her it was a sign of good fortune.

But now, it felt like this birthmark was at the center of a mystery far bigger than she could have ever imagined.

Alexander fixed his gaze on Emily, his eyes impossible to read, his voice brooking no refusal. "Take this emerald pendant."

Emily didn't move. She could feel gazes fixed on her from all around, filled with shock, jealousy, curiosity, and murderous intent, especially from Grace.

If looks could kill, Emily would be dead a thousand times over by now.

"M-Mr. Reed, could there be some kind of mistake here?" Richard finally found his voice, stammering as cold sweat beaded on his forehead.

The marriage pact with the Reed family had always weighed heavily on his mind.

Years ago, Richard and Alexander's father, Samuel Reed, had agreed to a betrothal, promising their kids would one day marry.

But after Emily disappeared and they searched for her in vain, the whole thing was quietly swept under the rug.

They thought as long as Emily never came back, the whole thing would stay buried forever. They'd even started scheming to have Grace take Emily's place.

But now, Alexander had shown up at their door with the keepsake in hand.

Alexander didn't even spare Richard a glance. His eyes stayed locked on Emily the whole time.

"A misunderstanding?" Alexander gave a cold, mocking laugh, but there was no warmth in his eyes. "The Reed family never leads a misunderstanding."

His words landed like a hammer, smashing into Richard and Victoria's hearts.

Grace wobbled, barely able to keep herself standing. She bit her lip so hard that it almost bled, her nails digging painfully into her palms.

It was all over. Why did this hick from the sticks get to show up and take everything that was her? She was the real Sutton heiress. She was the one who was supposed to marry Alexander.

"I don't believe it," Grace suddenly shrieked, her voice shrill and desperate. "Why her? She's a country girl. How could she be Harper's old friend's daughter?"

She rushed at Emily, reaching out to grab the box in her hands. "That emerald pendant is mine. It's mine."

She moved so fast that nobody had a chance to react.

As her fingers were about to touch the box, a shadow darted in front of Emily, blocking her in an instant. It was Alexander.

He seized Grace's wrist with barely any effort, his eyes icy and lethal, as daggers dipped in poison. "Get lost."

His tone was emotionless but packed with intimidation.

Grace was so terrified by the cold look in his eyes that she started trembling uncontrollably. "Alexander, I..."

"I said, get lost." Alexander's grip grew even harsher.

The pain was so intense that Grace's eyes filled with tears, spilling down her cheeks.

Michael rushed forward and quickly pulled Grace behind him. "Mr. Reed, please, let's not make a scene. Grace didn't mean it."

Alexander released her wrist, didn't even bother to look at them. He turned and offered the box to Emily once more. "Take it."

This time, Emily didn't hesitate. She reached out and took the weighty box from Alexander.

The moment her fingertips brushed the box, a cool sensation spread across her skin.

She opened it, and the rose emerald pendant rested quietly inside, its gentle luster glowing under the light. It was beautiful yet dangerous.

Emily snapped the box shut and met Alexander's gaze. Her voice was quiet, but he could hear the determination in it. "Thank you."

Alexander's gaze flickered as he looked at her. Emily was far more composed than he'd imagined. Even in the face of such upheaval, her expression remained perfectly calm. 'It's interesting,' he mused.

"No need to thank me," Alexander said coolly. "This is yours by right."

With that, he turned and walked away, not saying another word. He appeared out of the blue and left as quickly.

The living room was left in a suffocating silence, the air thick with awkwardness.

Richard and Victoria sat on the sofa, looking utterly lifeless, their faces ashen with despair.

Grace glared at the box in Emily's hand with a venomous stare, as if she could burn a hole right through it.

Emily ignored them completely. She grabbed the box and turned, heading upstairs.

"Stop right there," Richard barked. He shot up from the sofa, strode over to Emily, and snatched the box from her hands. His tone left no room for argument. "You can't have this."

Emily looked up at him, her eyes cold. "Why?"

"No reason." Richard wouldn't look at her, gripping the box tightly. "Bottom line is, you can't have it."

"The Reed family gave it to me." Emily's voice was soft, but it carried a force that couldn't be overlooked.

"So what?" Richard's anger boiled over, his embarrassment turning to rage. "You're a Sutton. Everything you own belongs to us. I said you can't have it, and that's final."

"Dad, what are you doing?" Michael walked over. He shot Richard a look full of irritation. "This engagement is Emily's. What gives you the right to snatch her things?"

Richard was caught off guard. He never thought his son, who always sided with Grace, would actually speak up for Emily.

Michael ignored Richard and turned to Emily, his tone softening slightly. "Emily, I know you got back and don't really understand how things are at home. This engagement is really important for the Sutton family. You..."

"You want me to let Grace have it?" Emily cut him off, getting straight to the point.

Michael's face stiffened, a hint of awkwardness flickering across his features. "Grace has had a crush on Alexander since she was little. And she's more suited to be Mrs. Reed than you are."

"So, you expect me to roll over and sacrifice myself?" Emily's lips curled into a mocking smile. "And why should I?"

"Because Grace is the girl we've always doted on." Michael's voice hardened. "Emily, you'd better know your place. Don't even think about taking what isn't yours. Or else, don't blame us for being ruthless."

Again. Emily found it funny. Taking what wasn't hers. Who was actually taking what wasn't theirs?

Emily didn't waste her breath arguing anymore. She spoke calmly, "The emerald pendant was given to me by the Reed family. You have no right to take it. If you don't return it, I'll go straight to Alexander."

"Don't you dare." Richard was trembling with rage. "You rebellious girl, are you trying to destroy the Sutton family?"

"You're the ones destroying the Sutton family, because of your greed and selfishness," Emily snapped, her tone icy.

Without another word, she turned her back on them and walked away.

Back in her room, Emily closed the door, blocking out all the chaos outside. She leaned against the door and slid down, drained and exhausted.

Everything that happened today felt like some absurd dream.

She'd gone from an unnoticed country girl to a pawn in a high-society marriage alliance.

She had no idea if this was a blessing or a curse. But starting today, Emily knew her life would never be normal again.

*****

Early the next morning, when Emily came downstairs, she immediately felt the atmosphere in the living room was strangely tense.

Richard and Victoria were sitting on the couch, looking grim and sullen.

Grace's eyes were red and swollen, obviously from crying all night.

Michael was pacing back and forth, clearly on edge.

As soon as Emily came downstairs, every pair of eyes in the room zeroed in on her.

Victoria was the first to stand up and walk over, forcing a bitter smile. "Emily, I was wrong yesterday. I shouldn't have been so harsh with you."

As Victoria spoke, she reached out, trying to take Emily's hand. Emily instinctively dodged her touch.

Victoria's hand hung awkwardly in the air, her face flushed with embarrassment. "Emily, I know you've been hurt. How about this? I'll take you shopping today and buy you some nice clothes, okay?"

People didn't act nice for nothing. There was always a catch.

Emily sneered inwardly, but her face stayed perfectly calm. "No need."

"How can you say no?" Victoria blurted out, her voice rising in panic. "You're the one the Reed family chose. How can you go around dressed so poorly? If people hear about this, it'll disgrace the Sutton family."

Emily arched an eyebrow, her lips curling in a faint smirk. "Oh? I thought you cared more about Grace's image," she said, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Victoria's face went pale, and she was at a loss for words.

Just then, Richard spoke up. "Emily, we're family. Let's not say things that'll tear us apart. We shouldn't have acted like that yesterday.

"We'll give the emerald pendant back to you. But there's one thing you have to promise us first."

They were finally about to reveal their true intentions.

Emily looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

Richard took a deep breath, his voice heavy and stern. "You need to publicly announce that your engagement to the Reed family was a joke between the elders.

"And you must personally ask the Reed family to call off the engagement.

Timothy Gibson, my childhood sweetheart and fiancé, dumped me for his secretary, Luna Henn.

His excuse? That sweet, considerate girl couldn't live without him, while I was strong enough to get by on my own.

Three years later, I returned from studying abroad and had become the youngest chief designer in the field.

His marriage to Luna, meanwhile, was a complete mess, and they fought constantly over her family draining their savings.

At an exclusive gala, he stopped me, his eyes bloodshot as he begged me for another chance.

I swirled my champagne and chuckled softly, "Isn't it funny? Back then, you said she couldn't live without you, so you picked her.

"But now? Funny how you don't say that anymore.

"So what is it? You finally realized she only needed your wallet? Or are you just admitting you were never that important after all?"

*****

By late November in Riverview City, the last sycamore leaf had finally fallen.

Zoey Sutton stood by the floor-to-ceiling window of Sutton Mansion, gazing at the bare maple in the yard. When she was three, her father, Richard Sutton, had planted it right beneath her window so that by her wedding day, its trunk would be thick enough for her to wrap her arms around.

But now, at 22, the maple was only as wide as a mug, and her engagement had already ended.

"Zoey, please listen to me." Richard's voice came from behind her, sounding more tired and cautious than ever.

Zoey didn't turn around. She just stared at her blurry reflection in the glass. Her hair was carelessly tied up. She wore no makeup, only loungewear, and there wasn't even a proper ring on her finger.

She figured it was no wonder he picked someone else.

"The wedding was supposed to be next May, and now you're breaking it off? What are we supposed to tell the Gibson family?" Her mother, Andrea Sutton, said. Her voice caught in her throat. "You need to give me an explanation, Zoey. Did he hurt you? Or did you two fight?"

That word lingered in Zoey's mind. Explanation.

She finally turned around and saw the three people sitting in the living room—her parents and Timothy.

Timothy was dressed in a dark gray coat, sitting up straight like he was there to close a business deal. On the table lay a document. The cover read: [Termination of Engagement.]

"Mr. Sutton, Mrs. Sutton, I didn't think this through," Timothy said, his voice steady as ever. "This has nothing to do with Zoey. It's my problem."

Richard's face darkened. "What problem are you talking about? You think I don't know about that thing with your secretary?"

"It's not the secretary," Timothy replied, looking up at him. "Her name is Luna. She's my girlfriend now."

Girlfriend. The word stabbed Zoey right in the part of her heart that still hadn't died.

She and Timothy had grown up together. When they were 12, at a big family dinner, he boldly announced, "Zoey's going to be my wife someday." Her cheeks flushed bright red, but he calmly reached over and served her a plate of her favorite food, without batting an eye, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

At 16, she got cornered by some punks behind the school. Timothy came charging in on his bike and took a brick to the head. Blood poured down his face, but he still stood firmly in front of her, refusing to let anyone touch her.

At 18, they got into different colleges. He walked her to the train station. At the ticket gate, he gently held her hand and promised, "Four years will go by in a flash. When we graduate, we'll get engaged."

At 22, she graduated, and they finally got engaged. His family's gifts piled up in her living room. A family Bible passed down through his family sat on the shelf by her bed.

At 24, with the wedding date almost here, he came to call it off.

"Why?" Zoey heard herself ask.

Timothy looked at her, his eyes swirling with a mix of emotions—guilt, resignation, and something she couldn't quite name.

"Luna can't live without me," he said. "Her family's struggling, and she's got no one else in this city. No relatives, no support. She needs me."

Zoey was stunned for a moment. "So?"

"You're strong, Zoey," Timothy said, getting up and coming over to her. "You've always been top of your class. You're good at everything. And your family is well-off. Even if I'm not around, you'll be fine."

He paused, and his tone softened. "But she's not like you. I'm all she's got."

Zoey just looked at him for a long time.

A breeze stirred outside, and the last few maple leaves fluttered to the ground.

"Timothy, say it again," she said.

"I know this isn't fair to you..." Timothy began.

"I said, say it again," she cut him off.

He was silent for a few seconds, then finally said, "She can't live without me."

"So?" Zoey asked.

"So I can't just abandon her," he replied.

"I asked you, so what?" she shot back.

"So I can only fail you," he said.

Zoey laughed.

She didn't know why she was laughing. Her eyes burned. Her throat tightened. But she forced herself to smile. Otherwise, she'd look too pitiful, too desperate, like some abandoned puppy.

"She can't live without you, and I'm strong, so I deserve to be cast aside?" Zoey asked, each word deliberate. "Is that your logic, Timothy?"

"Zoey..." Timothy started.

"Alright," she cut him off, grabbing the document from the table. "I'll sign."

Andrea jumped to her feet. "Zoey!"

"It's okay, Mom," Zoey said, taking the pen and signing her name on the last page. Her handwriting was smooth and careful, like she was just signing another piece of paperwork, like it meant nothing at all.

Once she finished, she pushed the document back to Timothy.

"The family Bible is on the shelf by my bed. Go get it yourself," she said.

Timothy didn't move.

Zoey glanced at him. "What, you want me to fetch it for you? Sorry, I'm strong, not the domestic type."

She turned and walked upstairs, her steps steady, her back ramrod straight.

Inside her room, she closed the door, slid down against it, and sat on the floor. With her face buried in her knees, she finally broke down and sobbed.

Chapter 1

I had been married to Trevor Holt for three years, and my stomach was covered in needle marks from all the attempts to get pregnant.

On the day of my prenatal checkup, his first crush, Celeste Quill, called me in tears, saying her dog was lost.

My abdomen twisted in unbearable pain, and I held onto him desperately, but he shrugged me off. "It's a checkup, not childbirth. How long are you going to act like this?"

I lay alone on the cold examination table, watching my child turn into a puddle of blood.

Late that night, he sent a message. [We found the dog. Stop making a scene.]

I replied: [Let's get a divorce.]

Trevor had no idea that the life lost that day wasn't just the child, but also the heart that had once loved him.

*****

The acrid smell of hospital disinfectant was so sharp that it made me want to gag.

My stomach throbbed with pain, cold sweat covering my forehead, while my other hand gripped Trevor's sleeve tightly.

My knuckles were pale, like I was grabbing onto my last hope.

"Trevor, I feel awful. Please don't leave, okay? The doctor said the baby's not stable today, and they need a family member to sign off," I pleaded.

I'd had over three hundred shots to protect the pregnancy, and my belly was covered in purple bruises with not a single patch of healthy skin left.

Today was supposed to be the day he finally kept his promise and came with me for the big scan.

But three minutes ago, a call from Celeste Quill shattered everything I was hoping for.

Trevor Holt checked his watch, his brows drawn together in a deep scowl, impatience written all over his face. "Anya, can't you be reasonable for once? Celeste just got back. She barely knows her way around.

"That dog's been with her for five years. If she loses it, she'll be crushed."

I looked at him, utterly stunned.

For three years, I'd devoted myself to being the perfect, gentle housewife, putting away my own ambitions and softening every edge.

And that was what I got for all that.

The pain in my belly suddenly intensified, and a warm liquid started to run down my leg.

Fear flooded me in an instant.

"Trevor, I could die. This is your baby." I cried, my voice trembling, desperate. "Please, Trevor, take me to the doctor. I feel really awful."

Trevor's gaze swept over my belly, and there was nothing but disgust in his eyes. He thought I was putting on some pathetic show.

"Enough." He barked the words and yanked his arm free, shoving me hard.

I was already weak, and his shove sent me crashing into the cold wall. Agony hit me, and everything went dark.

He looked down at me, fixing the wrinkled cuff of his suit where I'd grabbed him, his voice sharp and icy. "It's a checkup, not like you're giving birth. How long are you going to keep this drama going?

"All this to get my attention? Now you're even playing the victim, Anya. You seriously make me sick."

With that, he spun around and strode off, like I was something filthy he couldn't wait to get away from.

"No, Trevor," I screamed, desperately trying to reach whatever shred of conscience he still had.

But he never once looked back, his figure cold and resolute as he vanished at the end of the corridor.

In that moment, my heart felt colder than my body ever could.

The heat spreading down my thighs was impossible to ignore now, and the sharp, coppery smell of blood filled the air.

"Help. Somebody, please help me." I collapsed to the floor, my vision blurring until all I could see was the harsh white light above, staring down at me like the eyes of death itself.

Suddenly, the noise around me exploded as voices rushed in from every direction.

"Oh my god, she's bleeding! She's pregnant!"

"Somebody get a doctor! We need a stretcher, quick!"

Right before everything went dark, all I could hear in my head was Trevor's disgusted voice. "You seriously make me sick."

It turned out that in his eyes, Celeste's dog was worth more than our baby and me.

That was the man I wasted seven years loving. What a joke.

Chapter 2

When I woke up again, I was in a hospital room.

The silence was suffocating, with only the sound of IV fluid dripping in the background. It felt like a countdown for someone.

The nurse came in, and when she saw I was awake, her gaze was tinged with both sympathy and reproach. "You're awake? Seriously, the signs of miscarriage were so obvious, yet you kept running around.

"You were brought in too late. The baby didn't make it."

Even though I'd braced myself for it, hearing those words felt like a giant hand squeezing the life out of my heart. The pain was so overwhelming that I could barely breathe.

I tried to speak, but my throat was so dry that nothing came out, and not a single tear fell.

So, when a person's heart truly died, there were no tears. There was only a hollow emptiness, like a scalpel carving out everything inside.

"Where's your family? Someone needs to sign for the surgery. You signed yourself in the emergency, but now for the follow-up treatment, a family member needs to be present," the nurse said.

Family? I didn't have any family anymore.

I pulled out my phone. There was not a single missed call. I opened Instagram, and the first post was from Celeste ten minutes ago.

The picture showed Trevor holding a golden retriever, his face turned to the side, bathed in gentle light. The softness in his eyes was something I hadn't seen in so long.

The caption said, [Thank you for always being here. We found the dog, and now I can finally breathe easy. It's so good to have you with me.]

I stared at that photo for so long, my eyes stinging from exhaustion.

While Trevor was out with Celeste, helping her search for her dog, our baby had become nothing but a pool of blood, disposed of as medical waste.

Just then, my phone buzzed. It was a message from Trevor. [Are you done with your drama? We have found the dog. Stop making a scene and get yourself a cab home. Celeste's shaken up, so I'm staying with her tonight.]

Every word dripped with concern for her, and nothing but impatience for me.

I stared calmly at his message, then tapped out simple words on the screen: [Let's get a divorce.]

I sent the message, then blocked him without any hesitation.

There was no screaming, no begging, and no tears. When a person's heart was dead, nothing hurt anymore.

I pulled the IV needle from my hand, ignoring the nurse's attempts to stop me. I signed the release form, then dragged my weak body out of the hospital.

I dragged myself back to that so-called home. Now, the villa that once felt warm and inviting was nothing but empty and cold.

I walked into the bedroom and grabbed a huge black trash bag.

I threw away the mugs for a couple, the wedding photo, the cheap necklace he gave me, and all the plain dresses I bought to please him.

Within an hour, every sign of me, and every trace of our so-called love, was erased from the room.

I dragged my suitcase behind me and took one last look at this cage I'd been trapped in for three years.

Trevor would never understand that what died that day wasn't just our baby. It was also Anya who used to love him so desperately.

I left the keys on the foyer cabinet, turned around, closed the door, and stepped into the thick darkness of night.

The wind was strong, nearly knocking me over as I was still fragile from the post-miscarriage surgery. But I felt a lightness I'd never known before.

Even if the road ahead was shrouded in darkness, it was still brighter than the life I had by his side.

Chapter 3

The next morning, in the Holt Group's CEO office, Trevor sat in his leather chair, rubbing his temples.

Celeste had kept him up all night, insisting their dog was depressed and making him spend half the night trying to cheer it up.

David, his assistant, knocked gently and came in, carrying the day's itinerary. "Mr. Holt, you have a senior management meeting this morning. Also, yesterday was Mrs. Holt's prenatal appointment, and you didn't go. Do you want me to go see her?"

Trevor paused, then snorted dismissively, "She's perfectly fine. What could happen? She's using the baby as leverage."

When he thought about the message asking for a divorce he'd gotten last night, Trevor's eyes flashed with irritation.

'Here we go again,' he thought. 'She always brings up divorce whenever we fight. Does she really think I'll chase after her as I used to?'

"Ignore her. She's being difficult," Trevor said, tossing the file onto his desk. "She'll come crawling back when she runs out of money in a couple of days."

To him, Anya Petrov was like a pet, totally reliant on him for everything.

She had no job and no connections. Without Trevor, she wouldn't last a day on her own.

Just then, the office door swung open.

Celeste walked in, carrying a fancy insulated lunchbox. She was dressed in a pale white dress, her face bare of makeup, looking all delicate and innocent.

"Trevor, I made you some soup. Hope you like it." Celeste set the soup down on the desk, her voice hesitant. "Yesterday, was Anya mad at you? It's all my fault. I shouldn't have called you. Maybe I should go and apologize to her?"

Trevor's expression eased as he reached for Celeste's hand. "Don't blame yourself. She's being narrow-minded. Even a dog deserves some sympathy, but she can't even manage that. It's unbelievable."

Celeste lowered her head, concealing the hint of triumph at her lips, and spoke softly, "Maybe Anya just cares about you too much, but the baby—"

"Don't even bring her up," Trevor interrupted, "She's out of her mind."

Just then, the receptionist called, sounding rushed. "Mr. Holt, there's a lawyer here to see you. It's about Ms. Petrov's request."

Trevor frowned. "Let him in."

Five minutes later, a distinguished lawyer in a tailored suit stood before Trevor, sliding the document across the desk. "Mr. Holt, I'm Victor Cross, Ms. Petrov's attorney. This is the divorce agreement she drafted."

Trevor didn't even bother to look at it. He scoffed, "She must've spent a fortune hiring you for this act, huh? Tell Anya to stop messing around. I'm running out of patience."

Victor pushed up his glasses, his voice cool and professional. "Mr. Holt, Ms. Petrov means it. She doesn't want a dime from the Holt family. She only wants a divorce right now. If you refuse to sign, we'll file a lawsuit."

"She's really leaving empty-handed?" Trevor was stunned for a moment, then his anger erupted.

'Is she actually going through with this?' Trevor thought.

"Where is she? I want her to say it to my face," Trevor demanded, shooting to his feet.

"Ms. Petrov doesn't want to see you. Also, this is the property transfer paperwork. The villa you're living in? Ms. Petrov paid for it in full before you two got married. You have one week to move out," Victor said coolly.

Trevor was completely dumbfounded.

'Didn't Anya always say her parents pooled their money to buy that villa for her wedding gift? Hold on. She paid for it all herself?' Trevor thought.

Celeste's expression shifted, and she whispered, "Trevor, do you think Anya has an affair? Why else would she be so resolute about this?"

Her words struck a nerve, fueling Trevor's suspicions and paranoia.

Trevor picked up his phone and tried calling Anya, but it went straight to voicemail. She actually blocked him.

A surge of panic and loss of control hit Trevor. He grabbed his car keys and stormed out, his face dark with fury.

"Anya, you think you can manipulate me? Let's see how long you can keep up this charade," he shouted.

Chapter 4

Trevor floored it all the way back to the villa. He pushed open the door and was met with nothing but dead silence.

Normally, around this time, Anya would be in the kitchen with her apron on, busy cooking. She'd look up with that gentle smile and ask, "Long day?"

But now, the kitchen was cold, and she wasn't in the living room, either.

That annoying trash bag by the front door was already gone, taken care of by the building staff.

Trevor burst into the bedroom and flung open the closet doors. Anya's side was totally bare, with not even a hair tie left behind.

"Anya, how dare you?" Trevor shouted, his voice bouncing off the empty walls.

He refused to believe Anya was really gone. Anya loved him to her core. There was no way she'd leave like that.

She had to be sulking somewhere, waiting for him to find her and make it up to her.

He wandered the house frantically, hoping to find any trace that she was still around.

It wasn't until his gaze fell on the wastebasket in the corner of the bedroom. Inside, there was a single crumpled ball of paper.

Before he knew it, Trevor walked over, picked it up, and unfolded it. It was an ultrasound report. The date on it jumped out at him. It was from yesterday.

And in the diagnosis section, the words slammed into him: [Irregular dark area in the uterus, no fetal heartbeat. Miscarriage confirmed.]

Trevor's hand shook violently, the thin paper suddenly feeling like it weighed a ton.

'A miscarriage?' he thought, his mind reeling. 'Yesterday? While I was out with Celeste, looking for her damn dog?'

"No way, this can't be real," Trevor muttered, his face draining of all color.

He remembered how Anya had gripped his hand tightly yesterday, sweat streaming down her face as she pleaded for help.

He remembered the blood running down her legs. He remembered how he'd warned her to stop making a scene over the phone.

A tidal wave of panic crashed over him, threatening to drown him.

Trevor tore out of the villa, barely thinking, and jumped in his car, racing straight to a luxury hotel downtown. It was the address Victor had left him.

When he reached the hotel room door, Trevor didn't hesitate for a second. He started banging on it, wild and relentless. "Anya, come out. Tell me what's going on."

The door swung open. But it wasn't Anya. It was a tall, striking guy.

The guy was in a bathrobe, hair still wet, and shot Trevor a cold, hard stare. "Who're you here for?"

Something in Trevor snapped. A man and a woman were alone in a hotel, and the man was in nothing but a bathrobe.

Celeste's words echoed in Trevor's mind. "Does Anya have an affair?"

Jealousy and rage burned through Trevor, wiping out any trace of reason. He practically shoved the guy out of his way and stormed into the room.

Anya was sitting on the couch, drinking soup, her face as pale as a sheet. But when she saw him, her eyes went ice-cold, like he was nothing but a stranger.

"So it's true. You really are cheating on me." Trevor jabbed a finger at the guy, his eyes bloodshot with rage, his voice shaking. "Did you get rid of our baby for this guy? Was it all on purpose?"

Anya set her cup down and rose to her feet, calm and deliberate.

She looked at Trevor, who was losing his mind right in front of her, and thought it was beyond absurd. "Trevor, is your brain completely full of crap?"

*****

The guy, who was actually my brother, started to step forward, but I raised my hand to stop him.

I walked right up to Trevor slowly.

He was still yelling, "Did I hit a nerve? Feeling guilty now? Anya, how could you be so shameless?"

The slap was so loud that it echoed through the room as I struck Trevor hard across the face.

The world went silent.

Trevor's head whipped to the side, and he covered his cheek, staring at me in total shock.

I rubbed my numb palm, my gaze sharp as a blade, and spoke slowly and clearly. "Trevor, this slap was for my child who died. I didn't abandon our baby. You killed it with your own hands.

"While you were busy running around for Celeste and her dog, our baby became nothing but a puddle of blood."

I stepped right up to him, watching his eyes go wide with shock. My voice was gentle, but every word cut deep. "You killed our child. What right do you have to even bring it up?"

On the night I planned to tell my husband I was pregnant, I heard him tell his commanding officer I was never his wife — I was his mission, and the mission was over.

"Asset is stable. No emotional complications. She suspects nothing."

"And when we pull the plug?" the voice on the phone asked.

"She'll be reassigned to civilian life. Standard separation protocol. She gets a pension and a thank-you letter."

Commander Ryan Hale — Navy SEAL, Silver Star recipient, the man who had carried me out of a bombed-out field hospital in Kandahar, who had proposed to me under a sky full of stars while my hands were still shaking from surgery — was sitting in our kitchen in San Diego, debriefing my disposal like I was surplus equipment.

I stood frozen in the hallway, barefoot, one hand on the wall, the other pressed against the pregnancy test in the pocket of my robe.

Eight weeks. I was eight weeks pregnant.

I had spent the whole day planning how to tell him. I'd bought tiny combat boots from a baby store downtown. I'd written "Reporting for duty — ETA 7 months" on a card tucked inside the box.

Now the box sat on the kitchen counter, three feet from the man who was scheduling my erasure.

"Timeline?" the voice asked.

"Sixty days. I'll manufacture a fight. File for divorce. She won't contest — she's too loyal."

"Clean exit. Good work, Hale."

"That's what I do, sir."

The line went dead.

I didn't breathe. I didn't move.

Four years of marriage. Four years of believing I was loved by the only man who had ever made me feel safe.

I had left the Army Medical Corps for him. Walked away from a trauma surgery fellowship at Walter Reed — the most competitive program in military medicine — because he said he wanted a life together. A home. A family.

"I've seen enough war, Nora," he'd whispered on our wedding night. "I just want you. That's the only mission that matters."

And I had believed him, because he had saved my life in Kandahar. Because when the mortar hit and the field hospital collapsed, he was the one who dug me out of the rubble with his bare hands, bleeding, screaming my name.

How do you not love a man who bled for you?

How do you ever suspect that the bleeding was part of the job?

My throat closed, but I didn't cry.

I had survived a building falling on me. I would survive this.

I stepped back silently, returned to the bedroom, and closed the door without a sound.

I pulled out my phone and opened a contact I hadn't used in four years.

Colonel Grace Nakamura. My former commanding officer at Walter Reed.

"Colonel, it's Nora. I need to come home."

The reply came in ninety seconds.

"Nora Sinclair. I've been waiting for this call for four years. How fast can you move?"

"Forty-eight hours."

"I'll have credentials and housing ready. Welcome back, Captain."

I deleted the message thread, slipped the pregnancy test back into my robe, and placed my hand flat against my stomach.

This baby was mine. Mine alone.

I heard Ryan's footsteps in the hall. I smoothed my face into the soft, trusting expression he was used to — the one he'd probably been trained to cultivate in me.

The door opened. He leaned against the frame, arms crossed, that devastating half-smile.

"Hey, beautiful. You're still up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Wanted to see you."

He crossed the room and kissed my forehead. "Missed you today."

The same mouth that had just called me an "asset."

"I missed you too," I said.

He pulled me against his chest, and I let him, because I needed forty-eight more hours of his ignorance.

But as he held me, my eyes were open, dry, and already calculating my extraction.

Chapter 2

The next morning, I made Ryan his usual breakfast — black coffee, scrambled eggs, hot sauce on the side.

He sat at the table in his fatigues, scrolling his phone, not looking up.

"I've got a training rotation this week. Might be gone a few days."

"Okay. Be safe."

"Always."

He'd used the word "training" eleven times in the past month. I used to believe every one.

Now I wondered how many of those nights were spent at Coronado, filing reports about his compliant, controllable wife.

As he stood to leave, his phone buzzed on the counter. He'd left it face-up.

A message from a contact labeled "CENTCOM — OPS":

"Sinclair file updated. Separation paperwork drafted. Awaiting your green light."

Sinclair. My maiden name. In a military operations thread.

Ryan grabbed the phone before I could blink.

"Work stuff," he said easily.

"Of course." I smiled.

The second his truck pulled out of the driveway, I moved.

Forty-eight hours. I had forty-eight hours.

First, I went to his home office. The desk drawer had a combination lock — but I'd watched him open it a hundred times. He'd never bothered to shield the code because he never imagined his trusting wife would dare look.

Inside, I found it within minutes.

A classified folder stamped "OPERATION HEARTHSTONE."

My photo was clipped to the first page.

Subject: Captain Nora Sinclair, AMEDD. Status: Married (cover). Objective: Long-term domestic integration for asset monitoring and behavioral study.

I was a case study.

Our entire marriage — the proposal, the home, the Sunday morning pancakes, the whispered I-love-you's in the dark — was a psychological operation.

I flipped the page. There were quarterly assessments. Written by Ryan.

"Q3: Subject remains emotionally dependent. No signs of suspicion. Recommend continued integration."

"Q7: Subject expressed desire to return to medicine. Redirected successfully. Advised subject that domestic stability was priority. Subject complied."

Subject complied.

Every time I'd mentioned missing surgery, missing the operating room, missing the rush of saving lives — and he'd pulled me close and said "You save me every day, that's enough" — it was a documented redirection technique.

My hands shook so hard the papers rattled.

I wanted to scream. I wanted to drive to Coronado and burn his career to the ground.

But I didn't.

Instead, I photographed every page — the operation file, the quarterly assessments, the separation paperwork, the chain of command — and uploaded them to an encrypted drive.

Then I put everything back exactly as I found it.

That evening, Ryan came home early, smelling of salt air and gunpowder.

"You look tense," he said, studying me. Reading me. Like he'd been trained to.

"Just a headache. I think I'll visit my friend Dana in Portland this weekend. Girls' trip."

Something flickered behind his eyes — relief, maybe. Or operational satisfaction that I was removing myself from the house during a useful window.

"That sounds great. You deserve it."

Deserve it. Like a reward for good behavior.

"Ryan?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever thought about what you'd do if something happened to me? If I just... disappeared?"

He looked at me, and for half a second, something real crossed his face. Something that looked almost like fear.

Then it was gone.

"Nothing's going to happen to you, Nora. I'd never let it."

He kissed my temple.

That night, I lay beside him in the dark, listening to his breathing slow into sleep.

The man next to me was a stranger. He had always been a stranger.

I had just been too in love to notice.

Thirty-six hours.

Chapter 3

My last morning in that house began like every other.

I woke at 0600, made breakfast, kissed Ryan goodbye at the door.

"Back Thursday," he said. "Training."

"I know. Good luck."

The second his truck disappeared, I began.

I had packed a single duffel the night before, hidden under the guest bed. Inside: my passport, my military credentials, the encrypted USB drive, one change of clothes, and the only photo of my mother I couldn't leave behind.

Everything else — the furniture he'd chosen, the life he'd designed, the rings — I left untouched.

I wanted him to know I hadn't taken a single thing that belonged to his operation.

Because none of it had ever been real.

At 0900, I made one final stop: his office.

I placed a single envelope on his desk, centered, impossible to miss.

Inside was a handwritten letter and one item.

"Ryan,

I found Operation Hearthstone. I've read every quarterly assessment you filed about me. I know what I was to you — a subject, an asset, a case study in compliance.

I know everything.

By the time you read this, Captain Nora Sinclair will no longer exist. Don't look for me. You were trained to find people. I was trained to survive. Let's see which training holds.

I'm returning your ring. I have no use for props from a performance.

— Nora"

Beneath the letter, I placed my wedding band.

I stared at it — the simple gold ring he'd slid onto my finger in a chapel in Monterey, the Pacific crashing behind us, my heart so full I thought it would burst.

Now it was just metal. Part of a costume.

I closed the office door and walked to the front entrance.

A black SUV was waiting at the corner — arranged by Colonel Nakamura, who had activated a military medical transfer so clean it would leave no civilian trace.

As I slid into the back seat, my phone buzzed.

Ryan's mother, Diane.

I stared at the screen. Diane had always been kind to me — Sunday dinners, birthday cards, stories about Ryan as a little boy.

Did she know? Had she always known her son's marriage was a government contract?

I declined the call.

She would find out soon enough.

The SUV pulled away, and I watched the little house with the blue shutters — the house I had planted a garden in front of, the house where I had imagined raising children — shrink in the mirror.

Four years of my life in that beautiful lie.

I turned forward and didn't look back.

At the airport, as I waited for my military transport connection, my phone buzzed one last time.

A text from an unknown number:

"Hey Nora! It's Lieutenant Keyes ? Ryan gave me your number — he said you might want to grab coffee before the unit dinner next month? I just transferred to his team and he's been SO welcoming. He talks about you constantly. You're such a lucky wife! ?"

I read it twice.

So there was a new woman in his orbit. Another "subject," perhaps. Or just a young officer who didn't know what she was walking into.

I typed back a single line:

"Ask Ryan what Operation Hearthstone is."

Then I blocked the number, powered off the phone, and boarded the transport.

Somewhere over the Rockies, I pressed my hand to my stomach and whispered to the tiny heartbeat inside me.

"It's just you and me now. And I promise you — that's more than enough."

Chapter 1 

Reborn as the long-lost Rogers heir, missing for fifteen years, I avoided every chance to bond with my two brothers in this family. 

When they decided to let my adopted sister, Vivi, take over the family's legitimate businesses, I applied for a top medical research program in Europe. 

When they planned a lavish debut for Vivi, formally introducing her to the other major families, I volunteered for a closed-door medical training camp. 

They encouraged Vivi to pursue her own happiness, while I was expected to marry a drug addict for the so-called honor of the family.

I refused them on the spot. 

This was all because in my past life, I had spent my entire life desperate for my brothers! approval, only to end up despised by everyone for it. 

When I died in the crossfire of a gangland shootout, my own son pushed my body away in disgust. 

"Mom, did you really waste your whole life on such a petty fight with Aunt Vivi? Dying for the family would have been a more dignified end. At least then you wouldn't have disgraced our name." 

I left this world filled with resentment, only to open my eyes and find myself back at the moment I first set foot in the Rogers estate. 

This time, I'm done fighting. 

The power, the name, the honor. I'm letting them have it all. 

The confirmation glowed on my screen: " Application Submitted." 

I stared at the words for a moment before calmly closing the page. No one knew that this was the second time I had stood at this crossroads of fate.

In my past life, to please my eldest brother Bryan, the Don of the Family, I had torn up that acceptance letter. 

I forced myself to stay in New York, begging for a chance to learn the family business. 

All so I could follow their dinner table conversations about territory disputes, laundering money, and arms deals. 

After all, as the youngest Rogers daughter, lost for fifteen years in a gang war and raised in the countryside, they had looked down on me since the day I returned. 

I thought if I could just become "useful" enough, I could become a true Rogers.

But in the end, they never gave me a second glance. 

So this time, I spoke up before they could even suggest letting Vivi take over the family businesses. 

"Brothers, I've applied for a medical research program in Europe. As for the family business, you can hand it over to Vivi." 

At the head of the long table, my eldest brother, Bryan, who was cutting into a bloody, rare steak, stopped abruptly. 

He set down his fork, his brow furrowed. My second brother, Fred, sat to his left, pouring Vivi some juice. He looked at me, confused. 

"Helena, this is no time for jokes.Haven't you always wanted to be groomed for the family business?" 

I had been back in this home for nearly half a month. They all treated me like a country bumpkin, never letting me participate in their high-stakes business negotiations. No one had ever even offered me the chance to be trained in the family business. 

"I've already spoken to the Thomson family," Bryan said, not looking at me this time. 

"Helena, you'll accompany Vivi to the charity gala next week. Learn some etiquette.

Isn't that what you've always wanted?" 

Apparently, they failed to realize that this was a highly classified, closed-door project located thousands of miles away. 

It required total isolation, which means once I left, I wouldn't be seeing any of them for a very long time. In my last life, I had eagerly accepted Bryan's arrangement for the charity gala. 

Not only because I thought it was a sign of my brothers' trust, but also because I'd heard that the Thomson family's younger son, Johnathan, would be there. 

And I had been secretly in love with him for a long time.

I put on my most beautiful dress, meticulously prepared myself, and went to the ball, only to be met with the sight of Vivi and Johnathan dancing together. 

Vivi pushed me toward Johnathan's older brother, Marc, the Thomson family's notorious junkie. 

Marc used the threat of our families! alliance to force me to marry him, and what awaited me was decades of a miserable, torturous marriage. 

Only then did I realize that Vivi had orchestrated the whole thing. This time, I wasn't going to walk into that trap. 

"Thank you, Bryan, but I won't be going this time.

I pulled out a chair and sat down, my voice quiet. Bryan's knife scraped across the plate with a piercing shriek. He finally lifted his eyes and glared at me. 

"What did you say?" 

"T shouldn't risk the family's reputation at such an important event." 

"I've applied to the medical school at the University of Zurich. I leave next month." I met his gaze and repeated myself, forcing a smile.

"Medicine? In Europe?" 

Bryan put down his knife and scoffed, as if he'd just heard the most absurd joke. "The women of the Rogers family don't study medicine just to change bedpans.

Do you have any idea what a rare opportunity this gala is?" 

Vivi, who had been silent, suddenly let out a soft sigh. 

"Helena, I know you've just come back and might not be used to the family's rules." 

"Bryan just wants you to become part of the family, to truly become one of us. If you don't feel ready yet, I can help you." 

There it was again. In my past life, she used this same understanding act to push me into the abyss, making me look like an ungrateful country girl. 

But this time, I wouldn't fall into that trap again.

"T won't cause any trouble for you all," I said, lowering my head, my voice devoid of emotion." The application has been submitted. It can't be changed." Bryan didn't say anything more, just let out a cold laugh. 

"Helena, this is a one-time opportunity. Don't come to regret this." 

Sensing the tense atmosphere, Fred grabbed the glass of golden-orange juice from beside Vivi and handed it to me. 

"Alright, alright, let's eat first. Here, Helena, have some juice. These are the best mangoes, flown in just for us." 

I stared at the thick mango juice. I'm severely allergic to mangoes.

I had mentioned this on my very first day back. 

But in this house, no one remembered, or rather, no one bothered to remember. Because Vivi loved mangoes, they were a permanent fixture on the dining table. 

I didn't take the juice. I stood up and went straight to my room. 

Back in my room, I opened my calendar: 30 days until Zurich. I picked up a red marker and drew a heavy, crimson X over today's date. Every day, I was one step closer to freedom, and to being myself. 

I looked around the room. Every piece of furniture was priceless, yet it felt as cold as an exquisite cage.

To me, it couldn't compare to my adoptive parents 'small, simple cottage, a place that had been filled with warmth. In my past life, I spent fifteen years in this place, begging like a dog. 

I tried to wash the country dirt off of me, learning the etiquette of high society, giving up my beloved field of study, even my own marriage. 

All of it, just for a sliver of warmth from my " family." 

But what did I get in the end? It was Bryan, waving his hand impatiently. 

" Helena, besides your blood, what about you is a Rogers?" It was Fred, playing the peacemaker with his empty words.

"Don, don't blame our sister. She just cares about us too much." 

It was my husband, his hands around my neck. " You're just a piece of scrap the Rogers family threw out." 

The suffocating feeling of my heart stopping in that moment still catches in my throat. Your criminal empire, your picture-perfect family act, your noble bloodline. I want none of it. I just want to live my own life. 

A clean one.

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 

The next morning, when I came downstairs, the living room was humming with activity. 

Vivi was in the center of the leather sofa, her arm linked affectionately through Fred's as she leaned on his shoulder, showing him several gold- embossed invitation samples. 

"I want champagne-colored ribbons, Fred. White is too plain. After all, this is my official debut as a member of the Rogers family." 

Vivi's voice was as sweet and cloying as ever. 

"No problem, my little princess. Anything you want." Fred smiled and ruffled her hair, his eyes filled with adoration.

"Vivi is at the right age for a formal debut. It's time the other powerful families got to know the jewel of our family," Bryan said, leaning back on the sofa. 

Though his tone was restrained, his eyes were full of approval as he looked at Vivi. "We'll use this opportunity to make all five families remember your name." 

The three of them looked as intimate as a perfect portrait of a powerful family, and I was the outsider who had mistakenly wandered into the frame. In my past life, I had longed for this coming-of- age party.

I wanted to wear a beautiful dress, walk with my brothers on my arm, and proudly tell everyone that I was a daughter of the Rogers family. 

I had even given up a precious opportunity to attend an international academic conference for that debut, naively thinking I could finally be one of them. 

The result, however, was that the dance Vivi had supposedly taught me, which I had practiced for a month, turned out to be a set of vulgar moves fit for a strip club.

She, dressed in a million-dollar custom gown from Bryan, danced with the Moretti family heir in the center of the ballroom, looking like a white swan. 

And I, in an ill-fitting, out-of-season dress, shrank in a corner. While Vivi accepted everyone's praise in the middle of the dance floor, the high-society ladies whispered about me. "Look, that's the wild child the Rogers found.

The way she holds her wine glass, she looks like a waitress.

No wonder she can't even manage a proper ballroom dance." Bryan refused to listen to any of my explanations, convinced that I had brought utter shame upon the family. He locked me in the basement for three whole days. I was made a complete fool. 

"Helena?" Fred was the first to notice me. 

He waved me over. 

"Perfect timing, come here." 

I walked over and sat down obediently, but kept my distance. 

Fred pointed to a dark-colored gown on a screen. 

" Helena, there's something I need to discuss with you. Vivi's coming-of-age ball is next week. Could you let Vivi wear that diamond necklace?" 

"Just to borrow it for one night. We'll return it to you right after the ball." 

This necklace was the exclusive symbol of the Rogers family's principessa. 

There was only one. Whoever wore it was the family's most honored daughter. "Of course. I'll take the necklace to Vivi's room later," I answered crisply, without a moment's hesitation. 

Fred froze, seemingly surprised by my quick agreement. 

"Well, in that case, I'll buy you a new one later. It would go well with that red dress of yours." "There's no need.nMy medical program has a mandatory training session that day." 

Bryan, who had been in the middle of signing a document, stopped, his hand hovering in mid-air. 

He slowly looked at me. 

"Are you saying you're not going?" 

"It's the same day as a training session for one of my medical projects. It's a scheduling conflict. You all should focus on preparing for Vivi's important debut," I said calmly, playing the part of an exceedingly understanding sister. 

After all, in my last life, I was put under house arrest for refusing to lend the necklace and never even made it to the party.

He had pointed at me back then, his eyes burning with fury. 

"Helena, you know how important this day is for Vivi. Do you have to cause trouble for me right now?"

"How can you be so petty?" 

At that time, Vivi had walked over to Bryan, patting his back gently. 

"Bryan, don't be angry..." "After all, with my sister's upbringing... she probably hasn't seen anything this grand before. She doesn't know the rules. We just need to be patient." 

Her voice was soft, but every word was a needle. Another act from the kind, understanding girl.

That's why in their hearts, she was always the perfect, understanding angel. And now, I just wanted to escape this suffocating place as fast as I could. 

Never mind a necklace; she could have whatever she wanted. Hearing me agree to lend the necklace without a fight, Vivi looked at me, beaming. 

"Thank you, Helena. I'll take very good care of it. I'll return it to you right after the ball." 

"You can keep it. It suits you better than me," I said, shrugging as if it meant nothing. 

''Besides, I won't have any use for it.

" Hearing this, Bryan nodded in satisfaction.

" Helena, you're finally coming to your senses." 

"Once you learn the ways of our world, I'll throwa debut ball just for you." 

"Once you... then I'll..." I had heard promises like that too many times to count, but not a single one was ever kept. 

Vivi's requests, even for something as simple as a handmade loaf of bread from the next block over, were always taken to heart by Bryan and Fred. 

Although I no longer expected anything from them, the thought that my own brothers, who shared my blood, treated me like a complete stranger still sent a sharp pang through my heart.

It wasn't always like this. 

But after Vivi's relentless smearing and constant attempts to drive a wedge between us, everything changed. 

The warmth they welcomed me with on that first day has faded so much I've nearly forgotten what it felt like.

Worried they might continue this hollow courtesy with me, I turned and went back to my room, dragging the small, worn-out suitcase from the depths of my closet. 

My belongings were few. In this fortress of a mansion, the traces of my existence were negligible. I hadn't touched the designer gowns in the closet.

Fred had the housekeeper buy them, but they were all in Vivi's size. But inside this suitcase were the few simple clothes and a precious photo album I had brought from my adoptive parents' home. 

It was the only family portrait I had with them. In the photo, my adoptive father wore oil-stained work clothes, my adoptive mother a coarse apron. 

They held an eight-year-old me, their smiles so radiant. The background was that old house, cold in the winter and hot in the summer, yet it was a million times warmer than this priceless estate.

My fingers gently caressed the faces of my adoptive parents in the photo. 

That was my home.

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 

My eyes began to sting. My mind filled with memories of sunlight in the countryside and the smell of chopped onions. 

I was lost at the age of five during a family shootout. It was my adoptive parents who saved me and took me in. 

They gave me fifteen years of a normal life, pulling me out of hell and back into the world of the living. 

But sadly, they passed away in a car accident at the beginning of this year. My brothers only found me because they saw me in a news report about the accident.

Only after I was brought back did I learn that my birth parents had died years ago in a mob hit, leaving behind a vast empire and two young heirs. 

They'd adopted Vivi because her father, a loyal consigliere to my parents, had also died in a hail of bullets while protecting my father. 

I carefully placed the photo album at the very bottom of my suitcase. 

I took out my bank card. It held the insurance compensation my adoptive parents left me, plus the money I had saved from scholarships and part -time jobs over the past two years.

The amount wasn't large, but it was enough to rent a small studio in Switzerland, buy secondhand books, and live on cheap bread. 

I had no intention of spending a single blood- soaked penny of the Rogers' money. At dinner, the atmosphere in the dining room was unusually relaxed. 

Exquisite Italian risotto was served, and for the first time, a place had been set for me near the head of the table. 

Fred was excitedly talking about what kind of delicacies to prepare for the coming-of-age party. Vivi played along, occasionally trying to draw me into their carefully orchestrated conversation.

"Helena, I heard the security situation in Zurich isn't great lately. Are you sure you want to go?" 

Vivi put down her fork, her brow slightly furrowed. 

"Living all by yourself, without even a bodyguard, what if you run into trouble? Why don't you let our brothers arrange for a few men to watch over you?" 

"No need."

"But the food there is so plain, mostly cold dishes. Your stomach..."

"I'll get used to it." 

No matter what hidden barbs she threw, I responded with the shortest possible answers. 

The smile on Fred's face finally faltered. He put down his knife and sighed.

"Helena, do you have to have this attitude with Vivi? She's just concerned about you." I looked up at them and said nothing. No matter how I explained it, it would end up being my fault anyway. I couldn't be bothered to waste my breath. 

But either my silence or Vivi's hurt expression seemed to provoke Bryan. He let out a cold laugh, slamming his wine glass down on the table. The dark red liquid splashed onto the white tablecloth.

"Have you no manners?" 

In my past life, every time I showed the slightest dissatisfaction or grievance, it always ended with me being the one who was thoughtless, the one without manners. I never thought that now, even my silence was a mistake. 

Bryan spoke. 

"Helena, has being a Rogers been so awful? Are you that desperate to leave, to wash your hands of us?" Yes, to wash away this blood. That was exactly what I wanted to do. But I still met my Don's gaze calmly.

"Medicine is about saving people, Bryan." 

"Didn't Grandma go to church every morning to pray for someone in the family to one day walk in the sunlight?" 

I was simply too tired to argue with them. And bringing up our deceased grandmother was the only weapon I had to shut Bryan up. 

Sure enough, Bryan was choked by my words, momentarily speechless. Fred coughed awkwardly, once again playing the peacemaker. 

"Bryan... Helena has a point. 

" Grandma did... "Besides, we haven't lived together for over a decade. Give her some time." I was so tired of this scene repeating itself.

I stood up, claiming I was full, and went to my room. In the past, I would never have dared to be the first to leave the dinner table. 

I was terrified of my brothers thinking I lacked manners and breeding. But now, I had found my path. 

I no longer cared what people I was leaving behind thought of me. 

I locked my door. It felt like the first step in severing my connection to this world. I opened my laptop and started searching for information on the medical school in Zurich, as well as local apartment rentals. 

Since I was leaving, I had to disappear completely from their surveillance.

I had no intention of living in a dorm. After finishing my search, I crossed off another day on the calendar: 29 days to go. 

But when you're planning an escape from hell, time always seems to crawl by. 

At least I had survived another day.

Chapter 4

Chapter 4 

For the next few days, I did my best to be invisible around the estate. 

They were busy with Vivi's debut, and no one had time for me anymore. 

My brothers even gave Vivi a custom Beretta engraved with the family crest as a gift to mark her coming of age. I saw it by chance when the gun was delivered. 

The black gun was engraved with the intricate Rogers family crest, glinting coldly under the light. 

When Bryan handed the gift to Vivi, his voice held arare trace of warmth.

"Welcome to the family business, Vivi." 

Vivi excitedly picked up the gun and expertly racked the slide with a crisp metallic click. 

A glint of ruthlessness flashed in her eyes, a stark contrast to her usual wide-eyed innocent act. 

Fred stood by, clapping, but then he turned and saw me in the doorway. 

His smile froze. His gaze flickered, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. 

"Helena... if you like, I can take you to the shooting range sometime. We can pick a suitable one for you, too. For self-defense." 

I glanced at the gun and cut him off. 

"I wouldn't know how to use a thing like that. It would be wasted on me." 

In my past life, I had desperately wanted a gun engraved with the family crest as proof that I truly belonged. 

Now, however, I avoided it like the plague. 

Fred visibly relaxed, as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders. 

"Then we'll pick another gift for you next time." They would never remember any occasion related to me anyway, and besides, there would be no next time. I would be gone soon. I spent my days at the library, from morning until night. 

Occasionally, when passing by one of the family's business fronts, I would run into my brother’s soldiers. 

They would call me "Principessa," their voices respectful, but their eyes held a hint of pity or disdain. 

I knew it. In this family, I was the outsider who had barged in, while Vivi was the treasured jewel. 

My presence was just proof of the Rogers family's benevolence, a sign that they wouldn't cast out their own long-lost blood. 

The remaining 28 days felt like an eternity, but finally, the day of my departure arrived. The armored vehicle from the confidential medical program was already on its way to pick me up. 

That night, the rain was torrential.

When I was just about to going downstairs, Vivi, who was just coming in. She was dressed in a black training uniform, still holding spent shell casings from her practice. 

Bryan and Fred were gathered around her. 

"Your stance is perfect," Bryan said, his voice uncharacteristically gentle. 

"Tomorrow, I'll have Marco teach you some advanced techniques." "Vivi is really talented," Fred chimed in.

"She's even faster than I was when I first learned." 

Even though I no longer cared for these so-called family members, I was still surprised that Bryan and Fred were personally teaching her to shoot. 

After all, in my past life, they had just thrown me to a couple of the family's Capos. I had been so terrified by their rough methods at the range that I broke out in a cold sweat. 

In the end, I couldn't fire a single shot. Back then, Bryan had called me a coward, saying my upbringing outside the family had left me soft. 

I waited until the grandfather clock in the hall chimed ten times.

The heavy rain outside was my best cover. 

I dragged my heavy suitcase down the spiral staircase, step by careful step. 

I held my breath, praying they were all in the east wing celebrating Vivi's shooting lesson. 

But luck was not on my side. Just as I reached the bottom step, the heavy oak doors to the drawing room swung open. 

"Helena?" It was Fred. He had just walked out, holding a bottle of decanted wine, with Bryan and Vivi trailing behind him. 

They were laughing about something, until they saw me. I froze in the shadows of the staircase, my heart hammering against my ribs.

"What are you doing?" 

Fred frowned, his eyes dropping to the suitcase by my feet. "Where are you going with that at this hour?" The atmosphere instantly tensed. 

Bryan stopped wiping his glasses and looked up. My mind raced. I couldn't let them know I was leaving for good. 

If they knew, they might stop me out of some twisted sense of family pride, or worse, make a scene that would cause me to miss the vehicle. 

I forced my tense muscles to relax and arranged my features into a look of annoyance. "The latch on this old thing is broken," I lied, kicking the suitcase lightly.

"I was going to take it to the service quarters to see if the handyman could fix it. I... wanted to use it for storage." 

Bryan took a step forward, his eyes narrowing. 

" Now?" he asked, a sharp edge to his voice. 

"You're acting strange, Helena. Open it." 

Panic flared in my chest. If he opened it, the game 'was over. 

My mind was racing, trying to figure out what to do, when suddenly, a sharp cry pierced the tension. Vivi, who had been standing behind Bryan, stumbled and clutched her right shoulder. Her face was pale with pain. 

"It hurts, Bryan... the recoil from the gun earlier...I think I might have pulled a muscle." 

Tears instantly welled in her large, innocent eyes. Bryan's suspicion of me evaporated in an instant. 

He immediately turned to support Vivi, "Let me see. I told you the caliber was too high for a beginner. Fred, get an ice pack! Now!" 

"On it!" 

Fred dropped his interrogation of me and rushed toward the kitchen. 

"It really hurts..."

Vivi sobbed into Bryan's chest. No one looked at me anymore. I was invisible again.

Gripping the handle of my suitcase, I shot one last look at the chaotic scene of them fussing over her and slipped out the side door into the pouring rain. 

As the cold wind hit my face, a thought crossed my mind: for the first time in two lifetimes, I actually had a reason to thank Vivi for her desperate need for attention. 

I didn't look back. Inside the warm, brightly lit living room, the chaos had subsided. Vivi sat on the sofa with an ice pack on her shoulder, sipping hot cocoa. 

Bryan stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the storm rage outside.

Through the curtain of rain, a pair of blinding headlights cut through the darkness. A matte- black armored vehicle was slowly pulling out of the estate's gates. 

It had no license plates, only a small, specialized insignia on the door. "Look at that," Fred said, "That's a Ghost-class armored transport, bulletproof and bombproof. You usually only see those transporting high- value assets for international intelligence agencies or top-tier classified research." 

Bryan took a sip of his drink, nodding slightly. 

" Whoever is in that car is untouchable. Once those doors lock, not even the Five Families can get to them." 

"Must be nice," Fred chuckled, watching the red taillights fade into the stormy night. 

"To be that important. I wonder which lucky VIP was passing through our territory? We didn't get any intel."

"Tt doesn't matter. Whoever it is, they're completely out of our reach now," Bryan said, turning away from the window. 

"Focus on Vivi's debut. That's what matters." 

Just then, the old butler, Alfred, walked in to collect the empty wine bottle. "Alfred," Fred asked casually, "Did we have a guest leaving? We saw the vehicle." Alfred paused, looking confused. 

"A guest? No, sir. That was the transport for a confidential medical program with the University of Zurich." 

He adjusted his glasses and looked at the two brothers, who had frozen. 

"I just saw Principessa Helena get into it. Didn't she say goodbye to you?"

Lester Browning grabbed my chin, shoving the divorce papers in my face and making me sign. Meanwhile, Isla Fulton was lying in our bed, sending him a voice note.

"Lester, my head hurts. Where did you put the meds you got for me last time?" she said.

Lester let go of me and headed straight for the bedroom.

He didn't even bother to look at the red marks he left on my chin.

I lowered my gaze to the agreement. In the property division section, it stated, "Amalie Silva voluntarily relinquishes all marital assets."

Voluntarily. I let out a quiet, bitter laugh.

I picked up the pen and signed my name at the end.

Each stroke was firm, the pen biting deep into the paper.

*****

When Lester came out with the meds, I'd already slid the agreement to the center of the coffee table.

"I've signed it," I said.

He stopped in his tracks, glanced at the papers, then looked at me.

He probably hadn't expected me to sign so easily.

"Amalie, what are you up to now?" Lester asked, frowning, his voice full of impatient suspicion.

"I'm not playing games," I said, standing up and meeting his gaze calmly. "As you wish, I'm giving up my place. Hope you and Isla enjoy your happily ever after."

After that, I turned and walked toward the guest room.

The suitcase I'd packed earlier this morning was already waiting for me.

It was a 24-inch case, holding everything I brought with me when I first became his wife.

I didn't take a single thing Lester ever gave me.

The jewelry, the designer bags, and the credit cards were neatly arranged on the dressing table in the master bedroom.

"Where do you think you're going?" Lester asked, stepping in front of me. His eyes landed on the suitcase in my hand, and his face darkened.

"Moving out," I said, sidestepping him. "The divorce papers are signed. It's not right for me to stay here anymore. Ms. Fulton probably doesn't want to see me around."

"Amalie!" Lester grabbed my wrist, his grip so tight it made my bones ache. "I haven't agreed yet. The divorce isn't official until we both go to the courthouse and finalize it!"

"You will," I said, lifting my head and meeting his gaze without a trace of fear for the first time. "Lester, haven't you always wanted to marry Isla? Well, now I'm making it happen for you."

"You..." Lester seemed to stumble over his words, his expression shifting uneasily. "Isla's sick. I'm just taking care of her. Don't be unreasonable."

He said it again, claiming Isla was sick.

Isla had a congenital heart condition. She was Lester's eternal obsession and the poisonous thorn that had been lodged in my marriage for ten years.

Whenever she felt sick, Lester would drop everything and run straight to her.

He'd ditched me on our wedding anniversary, left me burning with fever at night, and even skipped my father's funeral to be with Isla.

"Yeah, she's sick," I said, nodding as I pulled my hand back. "So you better take good care of her. Lester, the divorce waiting period is thirty days. When it's up, show up on time. Don't keep me hanging."

I dragged my suitcase toward the door.

"Amalie!" Lester shouted from behind, his voice tight with anger. "Where are you even gonna go? The Silva family cut you off ages ago! You don't have a dime to your name!"

"That's my business," I replied.

I pulled the door open and walked out, not even glancing back.

"Oh, and one more thing," I said, pausing at the doorway and glancing over my shoulder. "Isla slept on the master bedroom sheets, so I tossed them. You two should get some new ones."

"And, Lester." I turned back, looking at my pale but steady face in the hallway mirror. "I'm pregnant."

In the mirror, Lester's eyes widened in shock.

"But don't worry," I said, flashing him a barely-there smile in the glass. "I got rid of it yesterday. I didn't want your child."

Then, the door slammed shut behind me.

It shut out Lester's frozen silhouette and whatever he might've said next.

The elevator started going down.

The numbers blinked, dropping one by one.

I leaned against the chilly wall, placing my hand gently on my stomach. It was still flat as ever.

Even so, I knew there was already a tiny life quietly growing inside me.

I was pregnant for two months.

Yesterday, I went to the hospital, planning to get an abortion.

On the operating table, with cold instruments beside me, the doctor asked again, "Are you really sure you want to do this?"

I stared up at the cold surgical lights, and every look Lester had given me over the past ten years flashed through my mind.

Indifferent, impatient, sometimes just pitying kindness. And most of the time, he had a distant, unfocused gaze, like he was always seeing someone else through me.

And then that picture Isla sent me last night popped into my head.

In the photo, Isla was wearing my silk nightgown, curled up in Lester's arms, throwing up a peace sign for the camera.

The caption said: [Amalie, Lester says I look way better in this than you ever did. He told me he's always wanted me to be the real mistress of this house.]

My stomach churned.

I suddenly sat up on the operating table, gagging.

I said hoarsely to the doctor. "I'm not doing it. I'm keeping the baby."

Chapter 2

The doctor let out a sigh, stayed silent, and quietly offered me a tissue.

As I walked out of the hospital, the sunlight was harsh and dazzling.

I gently placed my hand on my belly and said sorry to my baby. I lied to you earlier. I would never abandon you.

But your father didn't deserve to know about you. He was not worth it.

The elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor.

I dragged my suitcase out of the luxury apartment I'd called home for three years.

The taxi I'd ordered half an hour ago was already waiting outside.

The driver helped me load my suitcase into the trunk.

"Where to, miss?" he asked.

I gave him the address.

It was an old apartment complex in Proburn, a small place my grandma left me. I hadn't been back there in years, but I still kept the key.

As the car pulled away, the glass skyscraper that stood for wealth and status shrank in the rearview mirror.

It looked like a fancy tomb. It buried a decade of my love, and the me who humbled herself to the dust.

My phone started buzzing like crazy.

Lester's calls kept coming in, one after another.

I turned it off, and the world felt peaceful again.

As the car rolled into the old part of town, the streets narrowed, the buildings shrank, and the whole place was buzzing with the warmth of everyday life.

Breakfast stalls hadn't packed up yet, vendors were hawking their goods, and old men were bickering over chess games.

It felt so alive, so real.

I rolled down the window, letting the breeze, rich with food aromas and street chatter, fill the car.

My eyes stung a little. But I didn't shed a single tear.

All my tears had dried up over the past ten years.

Now, I wanted to keep living for myself and for the little one growing inside me, the surprise that gave me the strength to start over.

The old apartment was even more rundown than I'd imagined.

The motion sensor lights in the stairwell were out, so I made my way up to the fifth floor in pitch darkness. It took three or four tries before the key finally turned in the lock.

A musty, old smell of dust filled the air.

But sunlight poured in through the south-facing windows, catching the dust motes swirling in the air. All the furniture was draped in white sheets, their vintage shapes oddly comforting.

There was no Lester here, no Isla. Just me and my baby.

I started cleaning.

I rolled up my sleeves, got some water, and started scrubbing. The dust was everywhere, and even with a mask, I kept coughing.

A dull ache settled in my lower belly, so I stopped right away and sat down on the old sofa draped in a sheet to catch my breath.

I gently rested my hand on my belly.

"Be good, baby. Mommy will take it slow. This will be our home from now on," I whispered.

This place might be small and old, but it was ours.

After a short break, I got back to tidying up, taking it easy, careful not to overdo it.

While cleaning up the bedroom, I found a metal box buried deep at the bottom of the closet.

Inside was a pile of old keepsakes. There were school certificates, snapshots with friends, and a locked diary.

I'd lost the key ages ago.

After some effort, I forced the lock open, and the diary popped right open.

The pages were yellowed, filled with a girl's innocent scrawl.

"September 1, 2008. Sunny. The school opening ceremony. He spoke as the student rep. That white shirt, sunlight spilling across his shoulders. His name is Lester Browning. It sounds so nice."

"October 15, 2008. Cloudy. I heard he's dating Isla Fulton from the class next door. The golden boy and the perfect girl. Yeah, he's so outstanding. Only girls like Isla are worthy of him. What am I compared to them?"

"June 20, 2009. Rainy. They argued. Isla went overseas for treatment. Lester was all alone on the playground, getting soaked in the rain. I quietly left an umbrella for him under the basketball hoop. He never noticed me."

"March 8, 2012. Cloudy. College. Lester and Isla broke up. Word was, Isla called it quits, chasing a brighter future. He was pretty down for a while. I'd go to the library every day, pick a spot not too close, not too far, and pretend to read. When really, I was watching him."

"Summer 2016. Lester took over the Browning family business, and he was swamped. Isla was dating someone new overseas. I worked at the café Lester always went to, and sometimes he'd show up while I was on shift. He never even noticed me."

"Spring 2018. The Browning family was in trouble and needed to marry for survival. The Todd family, desperate to move up in the world, offered me up. Lester looked at me, his eyes cold and distant. He said, 'We can get married, but my heart belongs to someone else. I can't give you love.' I replied, 'Okay.'"

"Autumn 2018. The wedding. It was grand, extravagant, like a staged performance. Lester went through all the rituals with a practiced smile. That night, he slept in the study. I lay alone on the massive bed in the master bedroom, eyes wide open till morning, feeling the emptiness stretch on forever."

"Winter 2019. Isla returned to town. Lester went to see her. That day was our first wedding anniversary. I cooked up a feast and waited for him late into the night. When he came home, he smelled like her perfume. He said, 'Isla was feeling down, so I kept her company. Don't read too much into it.'"

"Spring 2020. I found out I was pregnant. I told Lester, overjoyed. He sat there in silence for ages, then finally said, 'This isn't the right time. You should abort it.'"

"Spring 2020. The operating room was cold and sterile."

Chapter 3

The diary cut off right here.

The rest of the pages were empty.

I ran my fingers over the page, feeling the smudged writing and the warped paper where tears had soaked in.

This wasn't my first pregnancy. I'd already lost a child.

To him, Isla was always number one. My baby and I could be put on the back burner anytime she was in one of her bad moods.

My chest felt like it had been hit with a sledgehammer, the ache radiating all over.

I closed the diary and put it back in the metal box.

I locked it up.

And with that, I shut away the Amalie who spent twelve years loving Lester, losing herself along the way.

From today on, I was just me. A woman with a baby, ready to start over.

I swapped out my old SIM card for a new one, snapped the old one in half, and tossed it in the trash.

I wiped clean or deleted every social media account I could. I cut off anyone linked to Lester.

I was like a cicada, completely shedding the shell of "Mrs. Browning."

After three days of unpacking, cleaning, and organizing, the place finally felt like home.

I registered my address at the community center and opened a prenatal file at the nearest hospital. The doctor reminded me about all sorts of things to be careful about and prescribed folic acid and prenatal vitamins.

Money was a problem.

I didn't have much cash left. Most of my little savings had gone to the security deposit and stocking up on essentials, so now I had to stretch every dollar.

I had to find a job, fast.

I majored in design in college, and after graduation, I spent two years as a design assistant at a jewelry company under the Browning Group.

But then Isla decided she didn't want "irrelevant people" hanging around her precious Lester, so he made me quit and told me to stay home and play the perfect Mrs. Browning.

Now, my resume had a four-year gap.

I updated my resume and sent it out to a bunch of small and mid-sized design firms and studios. I set the bar low, starting from the bottom.

While waiting for replies, I went to the wholesale market and stocked up on yarn and craft supplies.

Back in college, I was pretty good at crafts. I crocheted dolls and woven accessories, which always sold well at the flea markets. Now I was picking up those old skills again, making crafts to earn a bit of cash while taking care of myself and the baby.

During the day, I'd sit out on the balcony, crocheting adorable little plushies like bears, bunnies, and tigers. The baby in my belly seemed to enjoy it. Whenever my hands got busy, they would go still, almost like they were quietly listening.

At night, I'd sketch designs under the warm glow of the lamp. No more glamorous, pricey jewelry, only sweet, simple brooches, hairpins, and bracelets. My drawings looked a bit childlike, but they were bursting with energy.

A week later, I got my first interview call.

It was a small handmade brand looking for a design assistant, with their studio set up in a creative arts park.

I put on my loosest, comfiest dress and headed out.

Kristen Valencia, the founder of the studio, was the one interviewing me. She rocked a messy bun and had this easy, infectious smile. As soon as she checked out my design sketches and the handmade samples I brought, her eyes sparkled.

"These have so much spirit!" Kristen said, picking up a crocheted bunny with a tiny straw hat. "That warm, healing vibe. It's exactly what our brand wants to share. But—"

She paused, glancing at my resume. "There's a four-year gap here. Can you tell me what's behind that?"

I calmly rested my hand on my still-flat belly and admitted, "I got married and was a homemaker for a while. Now I'm ready to start over. Also, I'm pregnant, just hit the two-month mark. If there's a lot of overtime or travel, I might not be able to keep up."

"Pregnant?" Kristen blinked in surprise, then grinned. "That's great news! Congratulations! Our studio is really flexible. No need to clock in. It's all task-based.

"As long as you finish your designs on time, you can work from home if you want. And go to your checkups whenever you need, it won't count as leave."

I was caught off guard. I never thought it would be this easy.

"Why would you want to hire me?" I couldn't help but ask.

Kristen fiddled with the bunny and grinned. "Because your work has warmth. There are way too many cold, mass-produced products out there. What we really need are these heartfelt, handmade pieces that carry a touch of humanity."

She winked playfully, "Plus, having a mom's eye in the mix might spark some new ideas for us. Welcome to Dream Farm!"

My eyes grew hot.

"Thank you," I said softly.

As I walked out of the creative arts park, the sky was a brilliant blue, and the clouds were pure white.

I gently touched my belly and whispered, "Baby, I got a job. From now on, I'll work hard to earn money and raise you."

The sun warmed my skin.