My grandfather died on a covert mission, and authorities approved a grand funeral in his honor.

Concerned about my grief, my fiancé offered to handle the arrangements.

On the day of the funeral, I arrived with my grandfather's ashes, only to find his portrait discarded on the ground, replaced by one of a dog.

Furious, I tried to remove it, but my fiancé's adopted sister stopped me. "Hands off that portrait!"

Suppressing my fury, I countered, "This is my grandfather's funeral. He was a decorated hero."

"So what?" She shrugged, sneering, "Isaac said Luck deserves the grandest send-off. If you've got a problem, take it up with him. Adoring me, he'd cancel your engagement and ditch you in a heartbeat."

I laughed incredulously, calling Isaac's family. "You people begged for this engagement. Since when does your adopted daughter get to call it off?"

Footsteps thundered behind me, louder than the voice on the phone.

Isaac's parents, Ted and Leah Whitaker, snatched my phone and smashed it on the ground, their faces twisted with arrogance.

"You're just an orphan, and you think you can lecture my daughter?" Ted barked. "Your engagement to Isaac is set in stone, and my grandpa, Cuthbert's inheritance belongs to us now. Cross Joyce again, and you can kiss your title goodbye."

I stared at my shattered phone and their smug expressions. The groveling humility they'd shown Cuthbert when begging for our engagement was gone.

I clutched the urn, feeling utterly disappointed. "Cuthbert saved your failing empire. Is this how you repay him?"

Joyce Whitaker clicked her tongue and spat at the urn. "A crippled old man who clung to life too long. Why waste money on his funeral? Luck died saving me. He deserves this grand ceremony. Besides, you're depending on us now, and I'm just saving us some cash."

Cuthbert lost the use of his left leg years ago on a mission. It was a badge of honor for defending our country. No one had the right to mock him.

My nails dug into my palms as I glared at the dog's portrait defiling the funeral altar.

"Is this Isaac's idea?" I asked, barely containing my rage.

Joyce smirked, hands on her hips. "He said I can do whatever makes me happy. What, you're gonna tattle? Even if he were here, he'd back me up. Piss me off, and you'll be out on the street."

She stood there, gloating, as her parents draped Cuthbert's medal around the dog's neck, scratched out his name on the wreaths, and wrote "Luck" instead. They even performed a ritual, using a special offering sent by Cuthbert's admirers, to honor and bless the dog's soul.

"Our family rules this city," she bragged. "Even our dog gets a funeral this lavish. Mom and Dad, call some reporters tomorrow. Let's make our name shine."

Joyce glowed with pride while her parents applauded her idea.

My chest burned with fury, but I held back for fear of disturbing Cuthbert's soul. Instead, I called my family's security team to haul these disgusting people away.

Joyce's eyes narrowed when she spotted Cuthbert's gold medal. "They say gold and silver help animals reincarnate as humans. This medal is perfect for Luck's burial. But the name on it has to go."

She grabbed a knife to scratch off Cuthbert's name. I lunged at her, yelling, "That's Cuthbert's medal. Are you insane? This funeral is huge because he was a hero. Put it down, or you'll regret it."

She slashed the knife across the back of my hand. "Back off! I don't mind his stench, and you're threatening me?"

Blood dripped from my hand, but I held on, wrestling the medal free, when a big hand grabbed my neck and flung me across the room. I crashed into the coffin, pain shooting through me.

"You're not even part of the family yet, and you're bullying Joyce?" Isaac Whitaker snapped.

He shielded Joyce, his face cold. "Cuthbert is gone. Why waste money on a funeral he couldn't even see? Don't forget you're living off my family now. Let Joyce's dog have this and apologize to her. It will ease her guilt."

He snatched the medal from me and handed it to Joyce, who carved Luck's name over Cuthbert's. I fumed with rage, glaring at him while recalling the time when we got engaged.

Their company went down, and they sold their houses and cars to fill the hole. He learned massage techniques from doctors abroad to help with Cuthbert's leg, which moved me and earned my consent.

Otherwise, his family wouldn't even have qualified to sweep our floors. Now, he was humiliating me and Cuthbert's legacy for Joyce.

"Isaac!" I shouted. "You said you'd handle the funeral to spare me grief. Was it all just for her dog?"

He shoved me aside, annoyed, as I reached for the medal. "So what? Cuthbert lived a cushy life. He is dead, and you're still burning cash on him? And you have the nerve to threaten Joyce. I know Cuthbert was corrupt, hoarding money at home. I haven't reported him out of respect for our old times."

Cuthbert's merit deserved a funeral overseen by top officials, but Isaac's earnest pleas had convinced me to let him take charge. Now I saw it was all for Joyce.

Guests trickled in, witnessing the scene. One said, "Cuthbert left you a fortune, but a girl like you can't manage it. Apologize to Isaac and thank him for running the house."

Another guest said, "Joyce is spoiled by her family, and you'll be living under their roof. Crossing her won't do you any good."

A third person said, "It's just a funeral. Let Joyce do it her way. It will score you points with the family."

I sneered at these sycophants before storming to the altar and smashing the dog's portrait to the ground. "I'll say it one last time. This is my grandfather's funeral. Take your crap and get out!"

My family's security team arrived, and I ordered them to remove the Whitakers. But the guards, who had always followed Cuthbert's commands, hesitated and stood by the Whitakers' side.

"Everyone in this city knows your family's wealth is ours now," Isaac smirked. "Whose order do you think they take now?"

Joyce clung to his arm, gloating, "Ours. You trashed Luck's photo and disrupted his funeral. Apologize now before we have you dragged out."

The crowd jeered, fueling my rage. I roared, "You begged Cuthbert for this engagement! Now you're kicking me. You know what? I'm done! The engagement is off!"

...

The room erupted in mocking laughter.

"Still acting like a princess? Without your family's support, you're nothing."

"Isaac's a catch, and you're an orphan nobody wants. You don't know what you're talking about."

"The Whitakers value decorum. They won't tolerate this insolence. She'll pay for it."

Ted and Leah stormed over, each slapping me hard across the face.

"We prize virtue and grace," Leah said. "If Joyce weren't adopted, she'd be our ideal daughter-in-law. You think you can disrespect Isaac in public? Without him, you wouldn't even be at a funeral this grand."

My head spun from the blows. Isaac watched my humiliation with a cold smirk, his arm around Joyce's waist.

"The one to call off the engagement should be me," he said.

Joyce egged him on. "Look, she doesn't even want to marry you. Just call it off and kick her out. Let's see who'd take her, and we don't have to sneak around anymore."

"You two have been together behind my back?" I rasped, incredulous. "Isaac, you remember the contract Cuthbert signed with your family? If you call off the engagement or cheat, my family pulls all funding from your company."

Isaac froze, panic flashing across his face.