At a grand wedding filled with guests, Lorenzo suddenly fell from the high platform and hit his head.

When he woke up, he had forgotten me.

“I was the wealthiest man in New York in my past life. My wife was Vanessa,” he declared.

He shoved me aside and pulled Vanessa—the poor scholarship student I had once sponsored—into his arms.

The doctor diagnosed him with a stress-induced dissociative identity disorder.

Because Lorenzo stubbornly refused to marry me, I became the laughingstock of New York. My father sent me to France overnight to escape the gossip.

Five years later, at a business conference with foreign investors, I ran into Lorenzo again.

He had truly become the wealthiest man in New York. With Vanessa clinging to his arm in full makeup and designer clothes, he looked down at me with arrogant disdain.

“Danna, it’s been five years. Don’t tell me you’re still clinging to the fantasy of me marrying you?”

“I made a vow to Vanessa for three lifetimes. But if you really can’t let go, I could take you in as a personal assistant. You could even be a surrogate for Vanessa.”

I couldn’t help but laugh.

A mere city tycoon dares offer the position of personal assistant to the Princess of the French Royal family? He was clearly playing with fire.

Just then, a pair of twins ran over from the distance.

“Mommy! Brother took my ice cream!”

Lorenzo froze when he saw the two identical green eyed white babies. His expression darkened instantly.

“Danna, you actually went abroad and hooked up with some foreign man? You even gave birth to bastards?”

——

He grabbed Aaron by the collar and viciously threw him aside.

Aaron had been pampered by his grandmother, father, and uncle since birth. He’d never suffered such humiliation and immediately started sobbing, holding back his tears.

Vanessa curled into Lorenzo’s arms like a boneless vine, her fingers trailing along his chest as she cooed, “Loren, he’s just a little mutt. Who knows what kind of viruses he might be carrying? You’re too noble to dirty your hands.”

As she spoke, she raised her hand and slapped Aaron across the face.

“You little bastard, tell me—who’s your mongrel father?”

I rushed forward to block the slap. It landed on my shoulder instead.

Furious, I snapped, “Don’t you dare go too far! Do you even know who he is before you throw insults and raise your hand to him?”

The commotion immediately drew a crowd.

“Isn’t that the Vaugnn family’s daughter Lorenzo rejected back then? She followed him all the way here?”

Lorenzo’s scornful gaze landed on my simple, casual clothes. He sneered, “Danna, is this how pathetic your life’s become since leaving me?”

“Your wild man didn’t even buy you a decent outfit?”

He was still as arrogant and egotistical as ever.

But after five years, seeing that smug face again, I felt nothing—just calmness.

Today, I only brought the kids early because they begged to come get balloons. Charles was still in talks with the mayor about a potential partnership.

Lorenzo, seeing my silence, tightened his grip on Vanessa and sneered with pride, “If you want me to even look at you again, at least try to be as pretty and seductive as Vanessa. Dressed like a beggar, even if you tried to seduce me, I’d find you filthy. Who knows what other man’s spit has touched those clothes?”

Before I could respond, Vanessa chimed in sweetly, “Loren, don’t say that about Danna. She did support me in the past. Since she’s still so devoted to you, why not just accept her? If she’s dirty, she can always take a few more showers.”

“No matter how much she washes, she still stinks,” Lorenzo said with a laugh as he bit Vanessa’s lip. "You're the only one I've ever wanted to taste."

She let out a coy squeal of mock protest. “You’re so bad.”

I frowned in disgust as nausea rose in my throat.

Vanessa clung to Lorenzo like a parasitic vine and shot me a smug look.

“Danna, I know you helped me with my studies and living expenses. But you should understand—true love isn’t something money can buy. Loren never loved you. No matter how you chase him, it’s pointless. You should be grateful he’s willing to take you in as his personal assistant.”

Lorenzo looked at me with contempt.

“You should be thrilled that Vanessa even allows you to see me every day. Go ahead, get on your knees and thank her for her generosity.”

A few small-time businessmen around him immediately chimed in to flatter him.

“Oh, Mr. Nichols and his wife are showing you such mercy, letting you stay by their side. You should kneel down and show your gratitude.”

“Better to serve Mr. Nichols as a personal assistant than to end up selling yourself to some old man out there.”

“Mr. Nichols, you should get her checked out first. Who knows what kind of diseases she might be carrying?”

I stared at Lorenzo coldly.

He and I were once engaged in a powerful family alliance. While we weren’t madly in love, we’d grown up as childhood sweethearts, knowing each other inside and out.

At eighteen, Lorenzo knelt before me with a bouquet of flowers and told me I was the one he wanted to grow old with.

I had looked forward to marrying him with all my heart.

But then he fell for the very girl I had been sponsoring.

“She’s been through too much,” he said. “She has no one. She needs someone to take care of her.”

He even threw himself off a three-meter-high wedding stage just to fake some reincarnation nonsense, pretending to have lost his memory.

I was foolish enough to believe he’d really suffered a brain injury. From overseas, I sent him comforting letters every day and sought out world-renowned experts to treat him.

Then one day, Vanessa sent me a voice recording.

“Loren, you hit your head for me and lied to Danna, saying you lost your memory. I feel so bad. If I’d known, I would’ve told you to just marry her.”

“Hah! For you, I’d do more than hit my head—I’d die under you if you wanted. You’re so sweet, so soft while Danna is like a dead fish. She’s not even fit to make your bed.”

“Just look at the letters she sends me—groveling, clinging to me. Since she’s that cheap, once we’re married, I’ll tell her I ‘regained my memory’ and have her be our surrogate. Saves you the pain of pregnancy.”

“Loren, you’re so bad!”

“What can I do? If you get pregnant, I can’t touch you for ten months. That will kill me. She’s just a trash anyway. Might as well use her. After all, she’s obsessed with me.”

Then came the sound of moaning—utterly shameless.

My heart clenched. So was this the truth behind our two decades of shared childhood? Our years of friendship couldn’t even compare to a few nights of lust.

As the people around mocked me and flattered him, Lorenzo’s eyes gleamed with smug satisfaction.

I lifted my chin and said coldly, “Lorenzo, find yourself another personal assistant. I’m already married—and I have twin sons.”

With that, the crowd finally looked over at the two fair, chubby little boys and froze in stunned silence.

Lorenzo frowned, clearly impatient. “You really had kids? Who’s the father—a thug? A drifter?”

“Don’t tell me you dragged out some random children just to make a point. I still have those forty-eight love letters you sent me from abroad. You expect me to believe you had the heart to marry someone else and have his children?”

“You think I’d actually be jealous?”

I gave it a moment’s thought, then calmly pulled out a family heirloom from the Charles lineage—a ring set with a large emerald.

“My husband is Prince Charles of France. Not some thug or playboy—but the younger brother of King Charles VIII himself,” I intoned coldly.

Anyone with even the slightest knowledge of global affairs knew: Charles was the king’s most beloved brother, holding control over international trade and foreign commerce.

For the past four years of our marriage, he’d showered me with affection, but for my safety, he had never allowed my identity to be made public.

Vanessa finally straightened up, snatching the ring from my hand.

“There really is an iris flower engraved on it... and a tiny royal crest.” She sneered. “Are you trying to say that just because of this, you’re the Princess of France?”

“Well then, I’ll go make a few of these too—maybe ten or eight—and start calling myself Her Royal Highness, Queen of France.”

Vanessa's words sent the crowd into an uproar of laughter, her face glowing with pride.

“Danna, have you gone insane dreaming about marrying the richest man in New York? Now you're even making up stories about marrying a prince?”

“Do you know that even Loren doesn’t have the qualifications to meet Prince Charles face-to-face? He heard the prince was visiting New York and begged the mayor for an introduction six months in advance. He’s been collecting rare treasures from all over the world just for the chance to impress him. I heard the prince dotes on his wife so much, he even spent a hundred million bidding for the Queen’s coming-of-age necklace to gift her.”

“And you dare to make up such outrageous lies, tarnishing the prince’s name? Is this because you’re jealous that Loren doesn’t want you? Are you trying to sabotage his big opportunity?”

The moment her words landed, Lorenzo’s expression darkened. Without warning, he slapped me hard across the face, sending me crashing to the ground.

“You filthy wretch. I didn’t think you could be this malicious. Just to satisfy your sick jealousy, you’re willing to ruin me like this? Prince Charles is nobility—why would he ever touch a trash like you?”

Vanessa clung to Lorenzo, her voice was laced with concern.

“Loren, your ex-fiancée is so jealous she’s pretending to be the princess? If the prince finds out, he might think you have poor taste. Would he still be willing to work with us after that?”

Impersonating royalty—what a joke. I glared at Vanessa, who once cowered like a frightened rabbit.

I remembered when she worked as a server in a hotel. One night, a drunk guest tried to drag her into the bathroom. She nearly lost everything.

Out of pity for her—an orphan with no one—I stepped in. I offered to pay for her tuition and living expenses so she could focus on school. I treated her like a sister, bought her clothes, invited her to live in my home and dine at my table.

Back then, Lorenzo warned me, “You’re too soft-hearted. Poor people can be insecure and vengeful. Don’t end up raising a snake.”

But now, he believed every poisonous word out of that snake’s mouth and hurled insults at me like I was nothing.

Lorenzo suddenly kicked me in the stomach, hard.

"I've indulged you far too long, letting you fixate on me. But today, it's time you learned your place—and gave up.”

He yanked me up by the hair and slapped me twice across the face.

Maybe realizing it looked bad for a man of his status to beat a woman, he paused, then turned to Vanessa.

“Vanessa, didn’t Danna used to boss you around just because she had money? Made you wash her underwear, massage her feet? Today, your husband’s got your back. Go on—get even.”

He shoved me down again, pinning me so she could strike.

Vanessa hesitated at first, but then her eyes sparkled with glee.

“Danna, why did you get to live so high and mighty? Why did you get to order me around? I’m smarter than you, prettier than you. So why did you get to live a privileged life while I had to beg for scraps?”

With that, she landed several vicious slaps across my face.

My cheeks burned with searing pain.

Aaron and Arthur, my twin sons, were frozen in shock. They had never seen violence like this. From birth to age three, they’d been surrounded by love and cared for by maids. This was their first taste of brutality.

They burst into tears and threw themselves at me, crying, “Mommy!”

Vanessa grabbed Aaron and smacked his fair little cheeks twice before tossing him to the floor like garbage.

Lorenzo seized Arthur and kicked him three meters across the room.

“Filthy bastards. Send them to an orphanage later.”

Arthur curled up on the ground in pain, sobbing, “Mom...”

The boys began crawling toward me on their hands and knees, inching forward with desperate cries.

But the onlookers only jeered. Some kicked the children like sport. One man yanked Arthur up by the hair.

“Well, well—green eyes? Guess the bastard’s foreign. Bet the father’s some French guy.”

Then he scoffed and hurled Arthur away like he was nothing.

Lorenzo wrinkled his nose in disgust and delivered another brutal kick to Arthur’s small body, sending him flying.