I'm Tess Powell. When Nathaniel kicked open the cabin door, I was dancing passionately with a male model in a scarlet bikini. I swayed in the ambiguous music and lighting, like a fire burning recklessly, scorching the eyes of the onlookers. "My God... This is really something." Daniel Robert, usually cheerful and talkative, suddenly stopped in his tracks, his cheeks burning red. He was too shy to look in my direction. Nathaniel stood beside him. He was still with that indifferent demeanor, as if he was above the mundane world, but his eyes darkened slightly as they swept over me. "Tess, are you done?" He strode forward in a few steps, turned off the noisy music, and threw a thick blanket over me. But I ignored it, instead laughing and pulling the male model in front of me, nuzzling close to him. "Don't mind him... Let's continue." The male model smirked, pulling me closer in a deliberate embrace, his tousled hair brushing against my neck—too intimate for comfort. But that only lasted barely a second. Nathaniel had already reached out and yanked me away with such force that I nearly stumbled to the ground. "Tess!" He finally lost his temper. "Fooling around with male models, do you even remember what day it is today?" "Of course I do!" For a heartbeat, I froze. Then my hand flew across his cheek. The echo hung between us, drowned only by the silent rush of my own tears. "You don't own me, Nathaniel. And you sure as hell don't get to mention my mother!" My mother had treated Nathaniel as her own—pulling strings, pouring resources into him, all to secure his place as the Wilde heir. Yet what did he do to repay her? He had fallen in love with the cheater's daughter! Among all those people, he had fallen in love with Harriet! Today was my mother's funeral, and he was the last person in the world who had the right to lecture me! Daniel hesitated and stepped forward. "Actually, the funeral today was all arranged by Nat..." "Tess," Nathaniel coldly interrupted him. His face—the one I'd loved for twenty years—betrayed nothing. Those glacial blue eyes fixed on me as he spoke, each word a calculated twist of the knife, "Or have you forgotten? Your theatrics at the Wilde estate got your mother killed. This is your doing."
I stopped abruptly. My swollen eyes were fixed on his face, but something inside me shattered noisily, piercing through me, making it hard to breathe. Yes, it was because I couldn't bear the thought of him marrying Harriet. It was my arrogance. I failed to see that the Wilde family's power was far above mine now, and Nathaniel was no longer the illegitimate son who used to be bullied and needed my protection. I was foolish to go to the Wilde family and reveal that ridiculous photo, shouting that Harriet's mother, Lilith Dorothy, was a shameless mistress. And in my madness, when Nathaniel scolded me, I revealed the fact that his mother had also risen from being a maid. So the royal Mr. Wilde was truly enraged. He suppressed the news and had me expelled from the Wilde family. To make me pay, he retaliated by cropping his face out of the original photo and releasing only my wanton appearance to the public. The entire city was free to scrutinize my demeanor in bed. Even my infatuation with Nathaniel over the past twenty years had become a joke. "Look, the lady of the Powell family is a promiscuous slut." "Her mother couldn't compete with Harriet's mother, and neither could she with Harriet in Nathaniel's eyes." Everyone said so. That was why my mother, always proud and radiant, resolutely leaped from the villa in front of me, landing in a pool of blood. Before she died, my mother, tormented by depression, had a moment of clarity. She took my hand, her gaze clear yet sorrowful. "Tess, the way you chase after Nathaniel is just like how I pursued your father back then. We chase so hard that we lose sight of ourselves. It will cost our lives." "Find more men. You'll see that love is nothing special." So on the day of my mother's funeral, I skipped it and instead hired a boatload of male models on a cruise. It was finally my turn to say to Nathaniel, "So what?" I smiled brightly, but my nails dug into my palms. "We're just childhood friends. You're crossing the line here, buddy. Don't you think?"
Nathaniel's gaze locked onto me with terrifying focus. After a brief pause, he said indifferently, "Harriet is waiting for you." At the sound of the name, something inside me fractured audibly, like glass giving way under pressure. I thought I had let go. After twenty years of entangled love and hate, he easily defeated me with one name. "Good for you, Nathaniel." I muttered softly. No one knew how to hurt you more than a childhood friend. He ordered someone to drag me into the car. Before I left, I saw the male model's light-colored eyes. Daniel whispered in my ear, "I know you're upset. But today is your mom's funeral. You should be there." He glanced at Nathaniel, who was dozing off across from us, and hesitated to continue. "Don't be angry. Nathaniel has been hosting the funeral. He still..." His words trailed off. I got it. Did he still care about me? Or was he still grateful for my mother's protection in the past? Neither seemed to hold up. The moment my mother jumped, whatever had been between us twisted into a noose. With my back against the seat, I traced the slow, gentle arc of the small clay pendant in the rearview mirror, swaying to the car's unhurried motion. *** Daniel, Nathaniel, and I had been friends since kindergarten. But Nathaniel had always kept only photos of him and me, and the passenger seat was always reserved for me. I had mistaken that tiny sense of "specialness" for favoritism and chased after him like a moth to a flame. But now, the photos of us together had been replaced by a pendant made by Harriet, and the passenger seat was piled with a pink blanket that didn't fit there. Harriet's traces were everywhere. Hosting the funeral? I sneered, feeling the bitterness spreading in my throat. It was probably just to impress Marcus Powell, my father, and Harriet's stepfather, so he could marry Harriet sooner.
When the car arrived at Powell Manor, I got out without hesitation. My mother's funeral had just ended, yet the living room had already been completely transformed. Even the family portrait of the three of us had been replaced with a wedding photo of Marcus and the maid. My mother hadn't rested in peace yet, and he was already eager to bring a second wife into the house. "Tess, you brat, where have you been all day?" "Skipping your own mother's funeral? Do you still have any regard for this family?" Marcus slammed his hand on the table in anger as soon as he saw me, his face flushed with rage. Beside him, the maid, now dressed as a wealthy lady, Lilith, soothingly spoke in a gentle tone, though a flicker of contempt flashed in her eyes. "Marcus, Tess is just too heartbroken to face the funeral." "She's still young. Don't be so angry." "Indeed, Mr. Powell. Ms. Powell must be very upset," Harriet said, standing demurely beside them in a white dress. Marcus sat back under Lilith's influence and snorted coldly, "If she were half as sensible as Harriet, her mother wouldn't have died of anger!" I looked up sharply at this family of three, their clumsy act, and suddenly laughed. "Stop pretending! If you hadn't sunk to sleeping together without shame, my mother wouldn't have been overwhelmed by depression and ended her life!" "Tess Powell!" Marcus warned sternly. Lilith's face turned pale. "It's my fault. I failed the madam, but Marcus and I are truly..." Before she could finish, I lunged forward, grabbed her hair, and, in a scream, slammed her down in front of my mother's portrait. "My mother only took you in because you had nowhere to go! But you repaid her by screwing with my dad?" "You know what? If you really feel so sorry, why don't you just end your life as well?" Marcus roared at me to let go. Harriet also threw herself at me, crying while pulling at me. "Ms. Powell, let go. Mrs. Powell only died because you pissed her off. You can't blame my mom for that." Before she could finish, I picked up the riding crop beside me and lashed it directly across her mouth. She was so good at distorting the truth. "How dare you hit me! Nate will never let you go!" Harriet screamed, covering her mouth, her eyes venomous. I laughed unrestrainedly. "Not pretending now?" "You look better this way, you know?" "You witch, are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Marcus clutched his chest in fury as the servants rushed forward anxiously. "What good does your madness do? Your mom is gone, and it's all your fault! No one in this family welcomes you!" Harriet shouted shrilly, her eyes red. I raised the whip again, but my arm was fiercely grabbed, the grip so tight it almost crushed my bones. "Tess! How dare you hurt her!" Nathaniel stood behind me, his eyes blazing with rage. I didn't budge, but my hand, holding the whip, trembled for a moment. "Didn't you hear what she said? Doesn't she deserve it?" "I heard it." Nathaniel let go of my hand, his voice calm. "So what?" My heart skipped a beat, and threads of pain slowly exploded. I stared at Nathaniel, dumbfounded. He knew! He had always known that Harriet was two-faced, that she coveted my place in the Powell family, and that I was struggling under this roof. Yet he still chose to stand by her. "Nate!" Harriet cried, throwing herself into his arms. "She hit my mom and whipped me like this!" Nathaniel held her, his voice as cold as ice, his gaze on me. "Is that so? Then I'll whip her a hundred times to make her atone for you. How do you like that?" "Nathaniel, don't you dare!" I glared at him, my eyes red. Nathaniel held my gaze with quiet calm, his stare fixed on me briefly before he motioned for his bodyguard to force me to the ground. In front of Marcus, Lilith, and Harriet, he mercilessly whipped me until I was covered in blood. As pain consumed me and blood poured from my mouth, I heard unmistakably the sound of my heart caving in within. Twenty years of affection and the last bit of care. All shattered into dust at that moment. I lost count of how many lashes I endured before I finally fainted in desperation. In a daze, I sank into a familiar embrace, the faint scent of iris from Nathaniel wrapping gently around me. "Tess! Call the doctor!" I had rarely heard him shout so frantically. Pity it only happened after he had me beaten till I coughed blood. Yet, it was after he ordered me to be beaten until I coughed up blood. Summoning my final strength, I wrenched myself from his arms, preferring the hard ground to his embrace. "Nathaniel, you're fucking disgusting."
Ignoring my words, Nathaniel still rushed me to the hospital overnight for proper treatment. But the next day, the company I had secretly established was reported, and every file was sent straight to Marcus. Overnight, the alliances I'd painstakingly forged collapsed and turned on me. Even the photos of the male models I had summoned on the day of the funeral were spread around indiscriminately. It was obvious these actions were intended to ruin me completely. Marcus even publicly declared that he wanted to cut ties with me. Out of choice, I had to humble myself and seek help through intermediaries. I, once the pampered Ms. Powell, still bearing whip wounds, now humbly begged for help from the second-gen followers who used to follow in my shadow. "Tess, it's not that we don't want to help." Bart Nell, said with a troubled expression, but his gaze lingered on my pallor and the fresh wounds on my neck. "It's just that you've offended Nathaniel... None of us can afford the price." He handed me a glass of amber liquor, his eyes gleaming with a familiar predatory desire. "But if you're willing to join us for a drink and a gathering tonight... we may give it a second thought." I knew all too well what "join us for a drink and a gathering" meant. A quid pro quo of power and sex, the most popular and dirtiest trick in the circle. Once an indifferent bystander, I had become the one on the chopping block. I had no way to escape. "Bart, I didn't ask you here to do this to her!" Daniel's face twisted with anger as he tried to intervene, but he was overpowered by Bart, whose family background outranked his. "You can't expect us to take risks and help without her showing any sincerity," someone sneered, shooting me a menacing look that sent chills down my spine. "Besides, everyone knows Tess's wild side. She's got a whole crew of male models. A few more of us won't hurt." They closed in, step by step, like predators after a power shift, holding their wine glasses. Humiliation drained the color from my face, and a sour, salty bitterness climbed my throat, threatening to suffocate me. "Quite the party, isn't it?" Nathaniel's voice suddenly rang in my ear. "Shame I wasn't invited."
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