More than a dozen institutions are competing for the technology that my younger sister, Harper Prescott, created in her research project.

I return to the country just to host a college send-off party for her.

But when I reach home, I find Harper being hung from a helicopter like a kite. Panicking, I run forward to save her, but a haughty rich woman blocks my way.

"How dare she steal my precious niece's scholarship? This is her punishment!"

I personally selected that scholarship from over a dozen institutions. How did it become her niece's?

Seeing Harper's face turn purple as she falls unconscious, I demand they bring her down.

The woman throws a 100-thousand-dollar check at me and says, "I'd like to see who dares to let her down. Take this money as payment for your sister's life. The three Simmons brothers are my sons. Not to mention the life of a nobody like her, even with you included, I can still afford it!"

I am enraged!

The three Simmons brothers are just poor students whose education I funded. Three years ago, I went abroad for my medical treatment and let them manage the company for me.

I never expect them to use the power I gave them to let others bully Harper and me.

Very well.

I take a deep breath and call the three of them.

This time, I will let them know who really rules in Southford.

The call had just connected when the woman, Susan Turner, snatched my phone and smashed it on the floor.

"You're just a filthy nobody from the countryside! How dare you cause a scene here?" Susan bellowed.

"What are you waiting for? Grab her! Do you all want to lose your jobs? You actually let someone like her crash my party?"

A second later, a group of new security guards closed in on me. As they moved closer, I drew in a sharp breath.

"Don't you dare! Do you even know who I am?" I warned, my eyes flicking from one face to the next.

Susan's voice dripped with disdain as she retorted, "Why the hell should I care who you are? Who in Southford could possibly be above my sons? Guys, go on. Tell her who I am."

The crowd immediately fell over themselves to flatter her.

"Everyone knows who Mrs. Simmons is! She's so lucky to have three incredible sons. In just a few years, they're already running Prescott Group!"

Susan basked in their praise. But all I could see was the emerald around her neck. It had belonged to my mother. There was no mistaking it.

Back then, I had pitied the Simmons brothers. They had been forced to drop out because they couldn't afford tuition.

So, I paid for their schooling and even arranged internships for them at Prescott Group after they graduated.

Who would have thought that a few years of success would only feed their greed? They actually had the nerve to pass themselves off as members of the Prescott family.

I fixed my gaze on Susan and snarled, "No matter how capable your sons are, they're still just Simmonses.

"Gladys Prescott is coming back today. If she finds out you had her sister hung from a helicopter, your sons are done for!"

Without missing a beat, Susan burst out laughing. It was as if I had just said something utterly ridiculous.

"Gladys? That sickly thing's been overseas recovering for three years. She's probably dead!" she said smugly. "And even if she comes back, what could she possibly do? The company's already filled with my sons' loyalists. She's been completely shut out."

Agnes Turner, the young woman beside Susan, pointed at me. "Aunt Susan, don't let her fool you. She's that mute's sister. She got out of an old man's car earlier.

"That explains it. That mute is always dressed in rags. She can't even afford a proper meal and is always picking through our leftovers. I was wondering how she suddenly showed up looking so put-together. Turns out her sister snagged herself a rich guy."

I snapped, "Watch your mouth! I send my sister hundreds of thousands of dollars every month. How could she not even afford clothes?"

"Wow! You really go all out with your lies," Agnes shot back with a sneer. "Hundreds of thousands of dollars? Come on, she doesn't even have ten bucks to her name."

With that, she pulled up a video on the large screen.

In the footage, my sister, Harper Prescott, was dressed in worn-out clothes. And to my horror, she was rummaging through a trash can for food.

The moment I saw it, rage flared inside me. I wanted nothing more than to tear the Simmons brothers apart.

Three years ago, when I left Southford, I had trusted them to take care of Harper, who was autistic. I couldn't believe this was how they treated her.

Just then, Susan drove her foot hard into the back of my knees.

My legs buckled, and the moment I looked up, she slapped me across the face.

"So, that's why you've been running your mouth. You're that trash's sister! No wonder you look like a pauper, just like her. And you've got the nerve to sneak into my villa. You really don't know your place! Pathetic wretch! What are you staring at?"

The blow sent me sprawling to the ground. Then, Susan turned and signaled for Agnes to work the controls in her hand.

At that very moment, the rope snapped. Harper plummeted from three stories up and hit the ground hard, blood gushing from her mouth.

My blood ran cold at once, and tears streamed down my face.

"She's dying! Can't you see that? Call an ambulance!" I screamed.

Yet, not a single person dared to move.

Susan let out a cold laugh, spat on the ground, then pressed down on the back of my neck. "You want to save your trash of a sister? Fine. Lick it clean."

My eyes stung with unshed tears. I scanned the crowd, my gaze moving from one face to another.

"I'm Gladys, CEO of Prescott Group! If anything happens to my sister today, every last one of you will pay for it with your lives! Now move! Save her!"

Almost immediately, a collective gasp rippled through the room.

I rarely appeared in public, so they didn't recognize me. Still, my presence left them shaken.

In the next instant, Susan ground her heel into my fingers and spat, "You're Gladys? Dream on! Why would she ever show up at my niece's party? Even if she were back, she'd be at her mother's grave first. I've had people keep watch the entire time."

Pain shot through me, and cold sweat broke out all over my body.

I stared Susan down, my gaze fixed on her smug face. I had asked the Simmons brothers to put this celebration together for Harper. How had it suddenly become Agnes' party?

Moreover, I'd chosen this villa for a reason. It was the home where Harper and I had grown up.

After our parents died, we moved out to protect everything they left behind. This place meant more to us than our own lives.

And yet, the Simmons brothers had let their mother take over this house. She was even wearing my mother's stuff like it was her own.

The three of them had really outdone themselves.

When I didn't respond, Susan took it as proof she had exposed my lie.

"If you really were Gladys, would your sister be reduced to begging for food?" she mocked. "All it takes is one glance to see what people like you are. You can wear all the designer clothes you want, but you still look cheap."

Then, she glared at the event coordinator, who had rushed over. Her voice was sharp as she spat, "And you! My son pays you, but this is how you do your job? How dare you let trash like this walk in? Trust me—one phone call, and I'll have every last one of you replaced!"

"We're very sorry, Mrs. Simmons. It's our mistake. We'll kick them out immediately. Mr. Simmons gave strict instructions to make sure Ms. Prescott enjoys herself," the event coordinator said, all but bending over backward to appease Susan.

Without missing a beat, Susan slapped him hard. "Prescott? What are you talking about? My niece's last name is Turner! Get it wrong again, and you're out!"

Clutching his cheek, the coordinator hurried to correct himself, his tone turning ingratiating. "Yes, of course. We'll make sure Ms. Turner has a good time."

Susan basked in his fawning attention.

A beat later, the event coordinator shot Harper and me a look of pure disgust. "Lock them in the storage room. Find out who let them in before throwing them out."

Just like that, the staff dragged the unconscious Harper by her legs, her body scraping across the floor like discarded trash.

Even at that point, the crowd shrank back from my pleas as if I were something contagious. No one stepped forward to help.

To them, our lives meant nothing. We were certainly not important enough for them to risk offending Susan.

Rage surged through me, and I shouted, "Let go of me! I can prove I'm Gladys Prescott!"

"Spare me your tricks! I'll call my son right now and expose you for the fraud that you are!"

With a look of disdain, Susan dialed a number.

Before long, Jerome Simmons' voice came through the line.

Susan deliberately put the call on speaker, but before she could say a word, I cut in, "Jerome Simmons! Get over here right now if you don't want to die!"

After three years, Jerome didn't even recognize my voice. He snapped, "Who the hell do you think you are? How dare you speak to me like that?"

Around me, the crowd's expressions gradually twisted into mockery.

"She almost had me fooled for a second," someone muttered.

Another said, "Turns out Mr. Simmons doesn't even know her. Good thing Mrs. Simmons exposed her on the spot, or all of us would've been fooled."

"Some broke loser crashed the party, insisting she's Gladys. Of course, I had to expose her myself," Susan told Jerome, her voice dripping with mockery.

"Who is she kidding?" Jerome scoffed. "That idiot Gladys is still overseas. I checked. Her flight was canceled because of the weather. She won't be landing until tomorrow.

"Don't worry, Mom. The villa is yours starting today, even if she comes back. You can use everything inside—the jewelry, the clothes, whatever you want.

"If it's not enough, just buy more. Use the secondary card we gave you. That stupid woman believes anything we tell her, anyway. Sending her off to a hotel won't be a problem."

After saying that, he let out a smug little laugh.

I bit down hard on my lip, my body shaking with rage.

I had trusted the Simmons brothers to host Harper's college send-off party at the villa, but their greed knew no bounds. They were even trying to claim the villa as their own.

If I hadn't rushed back for the party—if I hadn't caught an earlier flight—I might have had to identify Harper's body the next day.

The thought made my blood boil. I wanted nothing more than to tear the Simmons brothers into pieces!

After the call ended, Susan lifted her chin and said, "I'm so lucky to have three sons. Unlike that wretch from the Prescott family. She gave birth to a sickly daughter, and in the end, they had to rely on my boys."

She let out a snort and shot me a sharp look.

Right then, Agnes drove her foot into Harper's stomach. Harper coughed up blood, spattering it across Agnes' dress and shoes.

I watched Harper's face turn deathly pale, and my chest tightened with pain.

Yet, Agnes ran up to Susan, complaining, "Aunt Susan, Harper ruined my dress! How am I supposed to go on stage and cut the cake now?"

Her whining instantly set Susan off.

"You've got a death wish, haven't you?" she hissed through gritted teeth, her face twisting with rage. "How dare you lay a hand on someone from the Simmons family?"

Then, she barked at the security guards, "Get over here! Strip her! I want the entire city to see her naked. Let's see how she gets married after that!"

I watched as a group of burly guards moved toward Harper, and I felt my stomach drop.

But when Susan saw my expression, she only grew more smug. "It's too late to be scared now."

One of those filthy hands reached out. The instant it touched Harper, rage flared in my eyes.

"Don't you dare touch her! That dress is worth over a hundred thousand dollars. You couldn't pay for it even if your lives depended on it!"

Harper's dress was a one-of-a-kind couture piece, crafted by a master designer. I had paid ten times the usual price to have it custom-made overnight from abroad. Even a single torn thread would cost a fortune to repair.

At my words, the guards hesitated. With a dress worth that much, no one wanted to risk getting blamed if it got ruined.

But my warning only made Susan laugh. "Hundreds of thousands for pocket money, and now a six-figure dress? Just listen to her, lying through her teeth!

"What are you waiting for? Strip her, then throw her out! My three sons will handle whatever happens. Forget hundreds of thousands of dollars! Even if it's millions of dollars, I could pay for it!"

With her backing, the guards grew even bolder. They grabbed Harper's dress and tore it without hesitation.

I watched as it unfolded before me. A sharp pain twisted through my chest, yet there was nothing I could do.

Before long, Harper's dress was ripped to shreds, each torn piece thrown onto the floor. The guards stared at her pale skin, and their gazes darkened with malice.

"Close your damn eyes!" I barked.

Almost immediately, Susan slapped me twice. "Not so fast. You're next. Someone teach her a lesson!"

As things spiraled further out of control, even the event coordinator hesitated.

"Mrs. Simmons, a warning should be enough. If word of this gets out, it'll cause trouble for Mr. Simmons, too—"

Before he could finish, Susan backhanded him. "Are you telling me how to do things? Everyone here wants to curry favor with my sons. Who would be foolish enough to let this slip?"

She shot everyone a piercing look and pressed, "Any of you have the guts to do it?"

One by one, the guests lowered their heads. The Prescotts were the most powerful family in Southford, but now, the Simmons brothers called the shots. So, of course, no one dared to cross them.

Their cowardice delighted Susan. Then, her contemptuous gaze settled on me again.

"This is the difference between high society and trash like you," she began. "I can buy their loyalty with money. Can you? Without money, you're nothing. After we humiliate you, you'll still come crawling back, begging for our favor."

Susan snapped at the guards, "What are you waiting for? Drag her out! She's not leaving here alive today!"