The July sun blazed mercilessly.
Brenna stood beneath the shade of a tree, waiting for her real family, the Harpers' car to arrive.
Half an hour had passed, but no one had come.
Just then, Brenna's phone suddenly vibrated with a friend request. A note accompanied it. "Hello, I'm Rosie Harper, your sister."
Brenna accepted the request without hesitation, and within seconds, she received a message from Rosie.
"Hello, I'm Rosie, your sister. Mom, Dad, and our elder brothers are tied up with work today, so they want you to go to Flavor Restaurant first. They've arranged lunch for you there."
Doubt crept into Brenna's mind. Was this some kind of scam? Why send her to a restaurant instead of simply giving her the Harper family's address?
But not many people knew she was heading to the Harper residence today. Whoever this was had to be a member of the Harper family.
A weight settled in Brenna's chest. Her first day home, and they couldn't even bother to pick her up? That said enough about how little they valued her.
She doubted this family would be any better than the Barrett family.
Another message from Rosie popped up.
"Brenna, I'll be waiting for you."
Brenna responded with a single word, "Okay."
It was nearly impossible to get a taxi at this hour. With no other choice, Brenna took the bus, getting off at Flavor Restaurant.
The establishment was the pinnacle of luxury in Shirie, a favorite haunt of the city's elite. Dining here meant dropping at least ten thousand dollars.
The moment Brenna pushed the door open and entered the restaurant, a blast of crisp, cool air wrapped around her, shielding her from the suffocating summer heat. Her lungs felt lighter instantly.
The restaurant was quiet, nearly empty. No one paid her any attention-except for a waitress who approached her with a polite smile.
The waitress was a young woman, pretty and probably in her early twenties. She wore a tailored red uniform, exuding professionalism. "Welcome, Miss. Are you Brenna Harper?"
"Yes. The Harpers asked me to meet them here. Could you tell me which room they're in?" Brenna's eyes scanned the space. No one seemed to be waiting for her, which meant the Harper family was likely in a private room.
The waitress kept her polished smile intact, subtly studying Brenna's casual outfit-a plain white T-shirt featuring a video game character, layered under an oversized striped shirt that draped past her frayed denim shorts. A worn baseball cap sat atop her head, partially hiding wavy hair streaked with deep blue.
Brenna's skin was smooth, her facial features delicate yet striking. The bold blue lipstick added an edge to her look.
Her voice was crisp, clear, effortlessly drawing attention from nearby tables.
"Miss, please follow me." The waitress gestured toward a table before continuing, "A woman from the Harper family waited for you here for over an hour but had to leave for something urgent. She'll be back shortly. She ordered for you, so please sit down. The dishes will arrive soon."
The table was set for six. Brenna chose the chair facing the door, tossing her backpack onto the seat beside her.
Moments later, the waitress returned with a glass of fresh orange juice. "Please enjoy. The food will be out shortly," she said politely.
Brenna nodded and thanked the waitress, though confusion lingered in her mind. Wasn't the Harper family supposed to be struggling financially? Why invite her to a restaurant this extravagant?
She couldn't make sense of what the Harper family was up to.
Pulling out her phone, she sent Rosie a message.
"I'm here already. When will you join me?"
Rosie responded soon, "I'm in a meeting right now. Might take a while. Go ahead and eat-no need to wait for me."
A meeting?
Brenna furrowed her brows upon seeing the message. Weren't the Harpers supposed to live in a poor, remote village? If that were true, how was Rosie in a meeting? Could the information she had gotten about the Harper family be false?
She glanced around, noting the semi-private booths by the windows. The occupants were hidden from view, but the soft murmur of conversation trickled through the air.
Soon, the waitress wheeled over a cart, and in moments, the table was filled with beautifully plated dishes-small portions, but meticulously crafted.
Meanwhile, in one of the semi-private booths, three women sat around a table, their table adorned with steak and orange juice. A woman in a white dress set her phone down, a faint smile curving her lips. "So? What do you think?"
This was Rosie Harper. She was actually Brenna's cousin. But she was raised by Brenna's parents after her own parents had passed away. Brenna's parents treated her like she was their daughter.
Sitting across from her were her friends, Sylvie Higgins and Vivian Morrison, both from prominent families. Their outfits were impeccable, their makeup flawless, their table manners practiced to perfection. The three had been inseparable since childhood, sharing everything.
Sylvie tilted her head. "Her face is decent, but her fashion sense is a disaster," she remarked, snapping a few photos. She then arranged them into a collage.
The centerpiece of the collage was a photo of Brenna eating, her face blurred out. Sylvie soon posted the photos. The caption read, "Flavor Restaurant, spotted a beauty."
Vivian casually liked the post before saying, "She's got a bit of a wild look."
Then, with a teasing smirk, she cast a sideways glance at Rosie and added, "Ethan might find that appealing."
Rosie's smile faltered. The last thing she wanted was for her fiancé to take an interest in Brenna. The marriage agreement between the Mitchell and Harper families required a Harper member to marry the son of the Mitchell family-but it had never specified who.
She shot Vivian a warning look. "Don't say things like that."
Sylvie leaned in, amusement flickering in her eyes. "Vivian's got a point. Brenna's got the kind of figure men tend to notice. Imagine Ethan's reaction if he saw her like this."
Rosie scowled as she responded, "It doesn't matter how pretty she is or what kind of figure she has. After today's events, Ethan won't spare her a second glance."
The three shared a quiet laugh. Sylvie's eyes flicked toward Brenna's table, where most of the food had already been eaten. "She's got quite the appetite," she remarked. "Maybe the Barretts didn't feed her well? Just look at the way she's devouring everything-it's obvious she has never had gourmet dining before."
From Park Ranger To Phoenix
I lived a quiet, simple life as a park ranger, nestled comfortably in my cabin, and for months, my greatest joy was Alex, the charming amnesiac man I'd rescued. He' d carved me a tiny wooden bluebird, the symbol of our shared happiness, and we' d built a future together, filled with whispered promises of forever. My world shattered the moment a black sedan pulled up: Alex' s mother, Eleanor Ashford, stepped out like a creature from a glossy magazine, coldly revealing that "Alex" was merely Ethan Ashford, a wealthy scion already engaged to a socialite. She dismissed me, then offered a check, demanding I simply disappear. Ethan completely discarded me with a cold, formal dismissal, acting as if our love never existed. I was dragged into his world, subjected to public humiliation at lavish parties, mocked for my humble attire. When his fiancée and I both plunged into the stormy ocean, he chose to save her, leaving me to battle the waves alone, then incredibly, forced me to donate bone marrow to her after she collapsed. His mother later ordered me beaten, ensuring my silent compliance for his upcoming wedding. How could the man who had cradled me, vowing protection and a shared future, transform into this ruthless stranger who betrayed every loving word? Was the "Alex" I knew just a phantom, or was this monster the true Ethan Ashford? The sheer injustice, the pain, the betrayal burned hotter than any physical wound. But they misjudged me; I wouldn't break. Clutching their payoff, I boarded a bus heading deep into the Colorado Rockies, determined to carve out a new life far from their opulent cruelty. A terrifying blizzard and a crashed military helicopter unexpectedly threw me into the path of a powerful stranger, setting me on a new, unimaginable course.
Finding Bliss Again: My Baby Daddy Is The Most Powerful Man Alive?!
At their wedding night, Kayla caught her brand-new husband cheating. Reeling and half-drunk, she staggered into the wrong suite and collapsed into a stranger's arms. Sunrise brought a pounding head-and the discovery she was pregnant. The father? A supremely powerful tycoon who happened to be her husband's ruthless uncle. Panicked, she tried to run, but he barred the door with a faint, dangerous smile. When the cheating ex begged, Kayla lifted her chin and declared, "Want a second chance at us? Ask your uncle." The tycoon pulled her close. "She's my wife now." The ex gasped, "What!?"
The Unwanted Man's Triumph
My wife, Vicky Sterling, delivered the news over breakfast as casually as she' d asked for more coffee: she was pregnant, and the father was Julian Vance, her personal trainer, who was also moving into our penthouse today. I felt the last thread snap. She told me I' d be moving into the guest room, as Julian preferred the master suite. This was just the latest in eight years of humiliation, where I' d gone from architect to trophy husband, then just... Ethan. My family' s firm had been saved by hers, but it cost me everything. When I tried to leave, her contempt was a familiar sting, reminding me I was nothing without her. The final insult came when Julian, a preening narcissist, lunged for my grandfather' s Purple Heart, the only thing of true value I owned, and it shattered. Then, the real torture began: Vicky, concerned only for Julian' s barely scratched nail, forced me to undergo a horrific skin graft, even as my own head bled from hitting a table. Later, Julian framed me for kidnapping myself, and Vicky, believing him, then locked me in a burning cellar. How could the woman I once loved, the one who controlled my entire life, be so utterly cruel, so blind to the monster she embraced? Lying there, choked by smoke, I realized this life was a charade. But then, a glimmer of hope: my old housekeeper, Maria, opened the door, and I heard Olivia' s voice, a promise of freedom in Austin. I was done.
Once Broken, Now Free
My 21st birthday wasn't just a day; it was the day. The day Ava Harrison promised we' d meet at Austin's iconic Continental Club, the moment I believed she'd finally see me, the kid who poured his soul into songs just for her. But as I arrived, guitar in hand, ready to begin our future, I heard her voice, clear and cold, telling her friend: "It' s a great way to finally shut down little Ethan. Still chasing that silly promise about The Continental Club." Then came the public engagement, a diamond flashing as she announced, "Sweet, but a little too late." My world crumbled. Moments later, a stage light crashed. I was severely injured, but Ava, my supposed future, didn't stay. She left me, bruised and broken, for her new fiancé, Julian, sending a single, chilling text: "#EngagedLife." How could the girl I worshipped, the one I wrote a decade of music for, be so utterly cruel? So dismissive of my love, my pain? The betrayal burned deeper than any physical wound. I smashed my guitar. Blocked her. And packed my bags for Nashville. This wasn't just over; it was a detonation. I swore I' d turn that agonizing betrayal into music so powerful, it would become her inescapable shadow. This wasn't the end of me; it was the birth of something far more formidable.
The Heiress They Left to Drown
My life was a perfectly curated display: a philanthropic heiress, a devoted husband, and annual galas that outwardly celebrated our unwavering love. But beneath the glittering facade, I stumbled upon a chilling truth: my charming husband Julian and my beautiful sister Liv were not just having a secret affair, but meticulously plotting to strip me of my family's fortune, revealing our entire marriage was a calculated lie, designed solely to gain control of my inherited shares. Julian had always prioritized Liv, abandoning me during my health crisis or fleeing to her side whenever she summoned him, yet nothing prepared me for the night my sister Liv maliciously shoved me into our estate' s ornamental pond. As I struggled to breathe, watching my heavy gown pull me under the shockingly cold water, I saw my husband, my father, and even my college sweetheart all swim past me without a glance, their sole focus on rescuing Liv, who theatrically thrashed and feigned distress in the shallow end. I was left to sink, utterly and completely abandoned. My entire life, it seemed, I' d been the overlooked second choice: my parents showered Liv with affection, my first love chose her vivacity over my quiet nature, and now my husband, the man who had promised unwavering devotion, had merely used me as a pawn for her ambition. How could every single person I ever trusted consistently choose her over me, again and again? As the dark water enveloped me, a strange, profound peace solidified my resolve: the suffocating, theatrical performance of my past life was finally over. I would burn down every painful lie, completely erase Ava Chen, and painstakingly sculpt a new identity, a new life, a true sanctuary where I was the main character, never just an afterthought in someone else's story.
The Ballerina's Broken Steps
Ava Miller, a twenty-one-year-old ballerina, had loved her step-brother Ethan Hayes since she was fifteen. For six years, their passionate, secret affair was her entire world, filled with whispered promises of Europe and forever. She believed he was her soulmate, the king to her queen in their private realm. But after a horrific car accident shattered her legs, the truth shattered her heart even more profoundly. From her hospital bed, she overheard Ethan, the man she adored, calmly admitting he orchestrated the crash. He sneered, revealing their entire relationship was a meticulously planned revenge plot against her mother. He wanted to destroy her dancing career and publicly humiliate her, calling her a "gold-digger's daughter." Her dreams, her body, and every memory of their stolen moments were reduced to a tool in his cruel game. Even as he feigned devastation and vowed to care for her, her world crumbled into excruciating pain and utter betrayal. He later brought his childhood love, Chloe Vanderbilt, into their home, showcasing his true affections right before Ava's eyes. He then abandoned Ava, leaving her to die, not once, but twice. Six years of her youth, her devotion, her very self, were all a lie, a twisted performance for his twisted revenge. How could the man she loved so deeply harbor such venomous hatred? The raw agony of his betrayal was a physical ache, eclipsing even her broken bones. But as her mother offered a sliver of hope for recovery in Vail, a fierce, cold determination ignited within Ava. She vowed to heal, escape, and make him pay for every tear, every broken bone, and every beautiful, shattered lie. Her revenge would be swift, public, and far more devastating than anything Ethan could have imagined.