Nadine Jones, the campus queen bee who somehow landed the wealthiest guy in Capital City, Francis Prescott, decided to make a big move by inviting everyone to the group chat.

The twist? She specifically singled me out, telling me I wasn’t welcome.

She announced: [Tomorrow, I’ll be serving tea to the Grandmatriarch of the Prescott family, on Francis's behalf. Some people with ulterior motives should keep their distance. Now, we wouldn’t want to stir up any jealousy, would we?]

That was it. My temper flared instantly.

It all started with a photo.

Someone had taken a picture of me kissing Francis on the forehead, calling him 'a good boy.'

Naturally, Nadine twisted it into yet another opportunity to accuse me of being the 'other woman' in their so-called flawless relationship.

For two long years, she made sure everyone knew it.

Still, I kept my composure. “I won’t be attending, even if invited. Francis is getting engaged, and I need to supervise.”

The next day, as I was enjoying a meal at the party, a group of women surrounded me.

“You can’t even let others live! Showing up here, trying to steal a man!” they shouted in accusation.

Their cruelty was unimaginable. They killed my cat, broke both my arms, and poured hot sauce over my legs. Then, they bound me and locked me in a dog cage.

Meanwhile, Nadine knelt in front of the Grandmatriarch’s empty seat. Her legs had given out from the extended kneeling, but she refused to budge. She cried, begging the madam to appear and drink the tea she had prepared.

I struggled to hold back my pain.

“Sorry, sweetheart,” I said through gritted teeth. “I can’t drink tea with broken hands.”

——

Serena's POV

Francis Prescott, the business magnate, was now kneeling before me, his expensive suit rumpled, his usually sharp eyes downcast and full of pleading.

"My fiancée, Nadine Jones, is a woman of great manners and integrity. I’ve brought her here today to meet you so she can pay her respects, my lady. From now on, she will show you the same respect I’ve always shown you, as the Grandmatriarch of our family."

'Great manners? Integrity?' I bit back a laugh when I thought of Nadine’s smug face in the group chat.

Meanwhile, Francis’s grandfather, Edmund Prescott, who was graying with age, seemed to think he could unilaterally decide whom his grandson should marry.

He quickly dropped to his knees and said, "Your blessing is needed, Aunt. While she’s popular with the younger crowd, she’s not worthy to be a Prescott without it."

The Prescotts weren't to be messed with. Our family’s legacy, built upon strict rules and unwavering traditions, spanned over a century.

Though I was young, I was the rightful heir to the Prescott lineage, entrusted with the family estate and the future of our family's fate.

Outside, Edmund might’ve been a highly respected member of the Prescotts, but in my presence?

He knelt.

I smirked, motioning for him to rise. “It’s fine. Let things be as they are, Edmund.”

You won’t let me attend the engagement party?

Fine.

I’ll wait and see how Nadine tries stepping into our family’s door.

Once they all respectfully backed off, I got a message.

It was from 'Malcolm the Mutt:'

[Babe, when are we going public? If you don’t make this official soon, I might just arrive at your door and demand an explanation!]

The Capital City was ruled by four major families known as 'The Elite Four,' each holding equal power. As they say, 'No rules, no progress.'

Malcolm Kentwood led The Elite Four, which included us, the Prescotts. Despite his imposing presence, his spoiled behavior made the situation feel like a clichéd drama.

I couldn’t resist teasing him. [Then come on over here!]

Just as I sent the message, my stomach growled.

I was hungry. I grabbed an appetizer and aimlessly wandered through the house.

The engagement party was set up in the side hall, with engagement trinkets neatly arranged. Dinner hadn’t started yet, and the guests hadn’t arrived, so everyone in the side hall was busy with their tasks.

I realized it was already past lunchtime when I entered the main hall. The lunch that should have been cleared away was still sitting there, untouched.

Right then, I realized nobody else would feel comfortable doing so if I didn't eat first. So, I sat down and began to eat as if nothing mattered.

But before I could even finish my second bite, someone slammed the back of my head. I barely stopped my face from crashing into the plate.

A sharp, angry scream rang in my ears. "Scram, you disgusting beggar! I haven’t eaten yet, and you dare to sneak a meal, huh?”

I held my throbbing head and looked up, only to meet Nadine’s glare. She had no idea that the high-end custom dress she was wearing was the one I’d personally chosen for her, but her eyes were filled with nothing but contempt.

“My god, Serena, are you that desperate to mess things up? I told you not to come, yet here you are sneaking in and eating like you own the place!”

Serena's POV

The three minions standing beside Nadine shot me glares that could’ve burned through steel.

“Do you even know where you are?” one of them sneered, her voice dripping with contempt. “This is the Prescott family—the wealthiest, most influential name around. And you? A poor country bumpkin—what makes you think you belong here?”

Another one scoffed. “Good god, look at what she’s wearing! She’s here to seduce Francis and ruin the engagement on purpose.”

“That’s right!” the third added, scoffing. “She even dares to call Nadine's fiancé a ‘good boy.’ Francis is the future head of the Prescotts. Who does she think she is?”

I gritted my teeth and shot back, “You don't know the half of what you're saying. I call him ‘good boy’ to flatter him. He laughs in his sleep every night because of it.”

Francis had always gone out of his way to earn my approval. Whenever I was pleased, I’d kiss his forehead, treating him like a younger brother. He was so overjoyed by it that he couldn’t help but post the moment online for everyone to see.

Naturally, Nadine twisted everything and claimed I was trying to seduce him.

The next two years? A never-ending cycle of bullying.

They ruined my homework, stuffed dead rats into my desk drawer, and spilled red ink all over my chair.

And the rumors?

They went all out, claiming I was seducing middle-aged teachers, even spreading the story that I took time off from school for an abortion.

For two years, my reputation had been dragged through the mud. I reported them to the police repeatedly, but the school just had Nadine apologize and sweep everything under the rug. I never expected her to get bolder, but now, she was bringing her violence straight to my door.

At that moment, I added, "I’m Francis’s fiancée…”

But before I could finish, Nadine grabbed the soup pot in front of me and splashed it over my head.

"Ahh, Nadine!" I cried out in pain.

The scalding soup seared my scalp, sizzling like it was on fire. My skin felt like it was being cooked, and my hair shriveled from the heat.

Before I could even process the agony, Nadine grabbed my ponytail, yanked my head down, and slammed it into the table. My vision blurred, and a sharp, cold shock of pain exploded through my skull.

"Just what you deserve, you slut! Stop getting close to Francis!" Nadine shouted, her voice dripping with venom.

Each time my face collided with the table, the force sent the room spinning. The impact felt like a thunderclap in my head, disorienting me, making it almost impossible to focus. Blood filled my mouth, mingling with the rising bubbles in my throat. The metallic taste was nauseating, and I gasped for air, my chest heaving.

The pain was unbearable, and I screamed, struggling to breathe. "Ahh, stop it! You're hurting me!"

My voice came out strained, weak, but I couldn't stop myself. I was fighting for air, fighting for just a moment of relief, but all I got was another harsh blow to the table.

Nadine’s cruel laugh echoed in my ears. “Look at her! She’s probably loving this. Bet she’s just as easy when she serves men, huh?”

The more she stewed over it, the angrier she got. I could see the malice building in her eyes as she ordered her friends to hold me down, their hands pinning my arms to the table with a suffocating grip.

“Since you dared sneak a bite, I’ll break your hands,” she sneered.

I screamed in horror, my voice trembling. "Nadine, you wouldn’t dare!"

The moment the words left my mouth, she seized the soup pot and brought it crashing down onto my hands. The strikes hit with bone-shattering force, and a searing pain shot through my fingers.

I was immobilized, helpless as the pot pummeled my hands, twisting them at unnatural angles. All I could do was watch in agony as my hands bent and contorted beyond recognition.

Then, out of nowhere, my cat, Buttercup, who had been growling fiercely, leapt at Nadine.

In a flash, it scratched her hand, drawing blood.

“Ugh, you filthy little beast!” Nadine screamed, kicking Buttercup with all her strength. The poor thing flew across the room, tumbling away from me.

“Buttercup!” I cried, panic surging in my chest.

Seeing her focus shift for just a moment, I summoned every ounce of strength I had left. Ignoring the pain coursing through me, I forced myself to push up, positioning myself in front of Buttercup to shield him.

“Don’t you touch my pet!” I shouted, my voice hoarse. “If Francis finds out, he won’t let you get away with this!”

Buttercup wasn’t just a pet. He held deep meaning for my family. He was a gift from my grandfather, and his presence carried more significance than anyone could understand. The previous head of the family had been ousted from the elders' elite four council simply for stepping on Buttercup’s tail.

I couldn’t let Nadine hurt him.

I furrowed my brow, the memories flooding back of how Francis always went above and beyond to please me. He’d walk Buttercup, clean up after him, even when he had diarrhea. He’d do anything just to gain my approval.

One of Nadine’s minions stepped forward, recognition dawning on their face.

“Wait a minute. That’s the famous Prescott cat, right? I’ve seen it in the news before. It looks exactly like this one," she asked.

I thought for a moment that they might back off.

But no, Nadine’s anger only deepened. “A filthy loser dares to threaten me? There are plenty of animals that look alike. Your cat is just as disgusting as you are.”

She exchanged a look with the others, her eyes gleaming with malice, before continuing, “Even if it is the Prescott cat, you really think Francis is going to care about a cat? Let alone blame me?”

A smirk spread across her face, one that made my blood run cold.

"No! Not Buttercup!" I screamed, panic rising in my chest.

But Nadine ignored my plea, her expression turning cruel. With one eyebrow raised, she said, “Alright, then. Kill the damn thing! I’ll take full responsibility.”

Her minions closed in on me, and before I could even react, I was stomped on by several feet. My face hit the ground with a sickening thud, the pressure distorting it beyond recognition, and I could barely breathe, let alone scream.

Serena's POV

I watched in horror as Nadine lifted her heel, a ten-centimeter "sky-high," and aimed it straight at Buttercup. The twisted glee on her face sent a chill down my spine. I knew exactly what she was about to do, and at that moment, it felt like everything around me was falling apart.

"Don’t! Buttercup!" I screamed, my voice trembling with desperation.

But the words barely left my mouth before the heel came crashing down, aiming to stomp the life out of my cat.

Nadine's grin twisted into something more vicious. "You bitch, once I’m done with the pests, I’ll deal with the big one."

Without wasting another second, she slipped off her heels. Before I could even blink, she slapped me hard across the face. The sound of her hand meeting my cheek rang in my ears as she counted off each strike, her voice dripping with venom.

"One... two... three..." she taunted, her laughter echoing in my skull. "Look at her! Her face is so swollen, she looks like a pig's head."

Then, with a cruel, smug smile, she added, 'How about we give you another round of punches, just for good measure?"

Her minions jumped in, eager to join the fun, slapping me harder with each blow.

My lips grew so swollen I couldn’t even feel them anymore. My teeth felt loose, slipping from my gums, as blood mixed with the bitter taste of my pain.

My head spun, my world tilted sideways, and the high-pitched ringing in my ears drowned out everything else. Every inch of me was on fire, but somehow, I forced myself to speak, struggling to get the words out between pained gasps.

"I’m the Grandmatriarch, and you’re treating me like this? The Prescotts won’t let you leave here alive," I managed to whisper, barely audible through my swollen lips.

Nadine threw her head back, laughing maniacally. "Hah! Just because your last name’s Prescott, you think you’re some big deal? Well, guess what? I’m the true heir of the Prescotts now! I’ll tear you apart, you little rat!"

When I thought I couldn’t sink any lower, a voice rang out, cutting through the madness.

"Who’s making all this noise?"

Everything froze.

I turned my head, my eyes filled with a flicker of hope, and saw the Prescotts' butler, Atticus Jones, step into the room. He walked in with the easy confidence of someone used to wealth and power, dignified and unyielding in his bearing.

Right then, a sliver of hope sparked in my chest.

"Atticus, it’s me, Serena," I said, almost pleading.

Unsure, Nadine's minions hesitated and let me go.

"Could she be really the Grandmatriarch of the Prescotts?" one of them muttered, doubt creeping into their voice.

Atticus sized me up, then sneered without missing a beat. "Where did this filthy beggar come from? I don’t know her."

He shot a glance at Nadine's friends, dismissing me immediately. "You didn’t think this through, did you? Madam Prescott, the Grandmatriarch, is what? Eighty, ninety years old? And now this girl, she’s just a kid, claims to be the great-grandmother of the Prescotts. You actually believe her?"

My heart sank, crashing down on me like a ton of bricks. I had desperately hoped this would be my way out, but now that sliver of hope vanished, and I felt the weight of defeat sink in.

Nadine, sensing her chance, acted fast. She covered her mouth with mock surprise and affectionately linked her arm with Atticus.

"See? My dad's smart," she purred, her voice dripping with sugary sweetness.

That’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks. Nadine wasn’t just this bold, arrogant brat. It was all borrowed power. She had Atticus in her pocket.

Nadine wasn’t the one calling the shots. He was.

A searing anger bubbled up inside me. I locked eyes with Atticus, fury boiling in my veins, and barely held back from spitting in his face.

"How could you let a stranger onto the Prescotts' property without permission from me? You’ve got some nerve, Atticus!" I sneered.

Before I could get another word out, Nadine slapped me again, hard, knocking out a couple more teeth.

"I am the lady of the Prescotts," she sneered. "If I want to come in, I’ll come in. No one’s stopping me." She paused, her lips curling into a cold smile. "Shut your filthy mouth," she said, her voice sharp as ice.

Without warning, several of her minions held me down while Nadine grabbed a roll of tape and sealed my mouth shut, wrapping it tightly until it was hard to breathe.

But that wasn’t all.

Nadine’s eyes caught sight of my phone, which had slipped from my grasp and landed on the floor. She picked it up without hesitation, unlocked it effortlessly with my fingerprint, and began scrolling through my photos.

Her eyes narrowed in fury as she scrolled through, her expression darkening with every swipe.

"How dare you secretly edit your photos with Francis!" she barked in disbelief. "I don’t even have intimate photos like that with him! Are you that desperate for a man?"

Her fingers scurried, and then her eyes froze on something else. "Oh, and here’s a family photo of the Prescotts. You had the nerve to include yourself right in the middle, pretending to be some high-society lady! How many other disgusting things have you been editing behind everyone’s back? I’m gonna make you regret it, you pathetic slut!"

With their eyes gleaming with amusement, Nadine's minions whispered and snickered among themselves. I could feel their gaze burning into me, as though I were nothing more than prey.

Without another word, they lunged at me, ripping my clothes off my body.

I struggled, but it was useless.

My clothes were shredded like paper, leaving me exposed and vulnerable. Standing by the door, Atticus puffed out smoke rings like he was watching some petty little show.

He didn’t even flinch.

Then, they hoisted me into the air, holding me upside down like a rag doll.

My body was helpless against their strength, and I was nothing but a powerless, broken thing in their hands.

"Help! Help me..."