When the Summer family finally dragged me back to their mansion, I had just finished a warm-up session at Marcus's boxing gym. I stood in their pristine living room, covered in a sun-kissed tan with defined, pumping muscles. My biological parents, who had clearly prepared a whole speech to humiliate me, froze in dead silence. They had brought me back for one reason: an arranged marriage. They wanted me to marry the heir of the Vance family—Damian Vance. Rumor had it that he was a violent psychopath who had already hospitalized or terrified ten of his previous fiancées. Chloe, the adopted daughter who had been fake-crying on the sofa, stared at my twitching biceps. Her tears instantly dried up. She trembled and shrank behind our brother. "Julian... are you sure Damian is the one who's going to bully her?" Julian looked down at his own slender wrists, then at my bulky, shredded physique. He silently took a step back. I jumped on the spot, throwing two lightning-fast shadow punches into the air. "So, I heard this guy has a nasty temper and loves throwing wild hooks?" My biological father, Richard, let out an awkward cough. "Yes... he is... extremely violent." I slapped my thigh, a massive grin spreading across my face. "Holy shit, why didn't you say so earlier? This is perfect! I was literally just looking for a decent sparring partner."
I had lived for twenty years, and I honestly never expected to be some long-lost billionaire's daughter. But what I expected even less was that my biological parents only brought me back to use me as a sacrificial lamb for a business merger. Wearing my sweat-soaked tank top, I slammed a one-hundred-pound barbell plate onto the Summers' million-dollar marble floor. Tiny cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the polished stone. The entire living room fell dead silent. My biological parents, who had prepared a lecture on "high-society rules" to put me in my place, were now staring blankly at my engorged biceps. Eleanor, my biological mother, was the first to react. Pinching her nose in disgust, she took a step back. "Roxy! Is this how that street coach raised you? You reek of sweat and look completely savage! You don't have a single ounce of femininity!" Richard, my biological father, kept his face dark. He didn't bother beating around the bush and threw a marriage contract onto the table. "Enough. Let's make this quick. Our family's real estate empire is facing a massive liquidity crisis. We need the Vance family's bailout. Damian Vance is looking for a wife. Since you're back, you're taking Chloe's place." I raised an eyebrow. On the way here, the chauffeur had given me the rundown on this Damian Vance. Supposedly, the guy had severe intermittent explosive disorder and a serious penchant for violence. He was completely unpredictable. He had driven away ten fiancées, and rumor had it two of them were still recovering in the ICU. Simply put, whoever married him was going to be a human punching bag. Chloe, who had been sobbing in the corner of the sofa, suddenly stopped crying. She looked at my thighs, which were wider than her waist, and then at the bulging veins on my arms as I casually spun the barbell plate with one hand. She scrambled behind Richard, trembling. "Dad... wait. No matter how violent Damian is, he's still just a human." Chloe's voice shook. "If Roxy goes... Damian might actually get killed. Shouldn't we... leave the man a survival option?" Julian sneered, pointing a finger directly at my face. "Chloe, you're overthinking this! She's just a white-trash girl from the slums. What does she have besides brute force? Damian is surrounded by elite bodyguards. What could she possibly do?" He glared at me. "Roxy, let me warn you. Don't think you're hot shit just because you can fight. Once you're at the Vance estate, you better lock up your savage attitude. Even if he tortures you, you will smile and take it! Otherwise, you'll drag our entire family down with you!" I stared at Julian coldly, cracking my knuckles one by one. Crack. Crack. Crack. Julian flinched, his face turning pale as he stumbled two steps backward. "That's enough!" Richard slammed his hand on the table, pulling something out from behind him and tossing it onto the floor. It was an old, battered pair of red boxing gloves. My pupils dilated. "Roxy, don't think I don't know what you're planning," Richard said, looking down at me with pure malice. "Your underground-fighter adoptive dad, Marcus, runs a pathetic little gym in South Brooklyn, right? It just so happens that I bought the land deed to that entire block." He stepped on the red boxing gloves, grinding his expensive leather shoe into them. "If you don't want your useless adoptive father thrown onto the streets, you will put on a dress tonight, go to the gala, and get married!" I stared at the crushed gloves, my jaw clenched so hard my teeth ached. Those gloves were Marcus's pride—the ones he wore when he won his bare-knuckle championship years ago. "Roxy..." Chloe timidly offered me a towel, her eyes red. "Please don't fight with Dad. I'm sorry... I was too scared to go. I'm so useless..." I took a deep breath, forcing down the urge to snap Richard's neck, and snatched the towel. "Fine," I said, my voice ice-cold. "I'll go." For Marcus's sake, I would endure this. But I didn't tell Richard the very first rule Marcus had taught me: Once you step into the ring, survival is the only rule.
By the afternoon, Eleanor had hired the most ruthless high-society deportment coach in the city. "Miss Summer, a lady's spine must never bend!" The coach glared at my relaxed stance. Frowning, she pulled out a long sewing pin and walked behind me, aiming to prick my back to force me to stand straight. Snap! A sharp sound echoed. The pin snapped in half. My trapezius and latissimus dorsi muscles, forged from years of heavy squats, were not something a tiny pin could penetrate. The coach held the broken needle, looking like she had just seen a ghost. Gulping, she changed tactics. She placed a bowl of water on my head and ordered me to do a runway walk, demanding "soft, elegant steps." Annoyed, I rested my hand on the mahogany dining table. "Are we done yet?" The moment the words left my mouth, my grip tightened, and I literally crushed a chunk of the solid mahogany corner into splinters. Eleanor gasped behind me, nearly fainting. But for the sake of the marriage alliance, she forced herself to stay quiet and hurriedly dismissed the coach. I lay back on the sofa, closing my eyes to rest. The door creaked open, and Chloe sneaked in. She slid a small bottle of muscle rub into my hand, her eyes welling with tears. "Roxy... I'm so sorry. I'm just so afraid of pain, which is why I let them force you..." She took a deep breath, clenching her small fists as if making a life-changing decision. "But don't worry! I'll save up my allowance secretly! In the future, if Damian beats you up, I will pay for all your medical bills! I won't let you get hurt for nothing!" Looking at her stupid but brave face, I couldn't help but pinch her soft, chubby cheek. I had to admit, it felt pretty nice. Though this fake sister of mine was weak and cowardly, she at least had a conscience. She was much better than the other snakes in this house. Before I could say anything, a burst of loud laughter came from the hallway. Julian walked in, flanked by a few of his rich, spoiled friends. Seeing me, the guys didn't even try to hide their mockery. "Whoa, Julian, is this the long-lost sister you guys found? Damn, with that dark skin and those muscles, she'd be great at a construction site!" Julian sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disdain. "What do you expect? She was raised by a trashy underground street fighter. She smells like garbage and behaves like a beast. She's only fit to be a punching bag for the Vance family's maniac." The moment he said "trashy underground street fighter," I stood up. Julian's arrogant face drained of color. His knees buckled, and he fell backward onto the sofa, his voice cracking into a high pitch. "What... what do you think you're doing!" "Roxy!" Richard walked out of his second-floor study, waving the land deed in his hand. "Don't you dare touch your brother. Try it, and I will have that dump of a gym demolished by tomorrow morning!" I stared at the deed, my fists clenched so hard my palms began to bleed. Taking a deep breath, I forced the violent urge back down. "I don't need you to remind me," I said, my voice dead. That evening, Eleanor sent over a expensive, diamond-encrusted strapless gown. I threw it straight into the trash can. Instead, I dug through the closet and found a sharp, custom-tailored black tuxedo. When I put on the suit, tied the tie, and pulled my messy hair back into a sleek, high ponytail, the person in the mirror was no longer a lamb waiting for the slaughter. My broad shoulders filled out the suit perfectly. My tight waist highlighted my explosive frame, and my long legs looked deadly and elegant. I sneered at my reflection. Damian Vance, huh? I hope you can last three rounds under my fists.
As the city lights began to glow, the Vance family's luxury yacht docked at the harbor. When I stepped into the grand ballroom wearing my black tuxedo and three-inch stiletto heels, the noisy chatter instantly died down. Then, a wave of hushed whispers washed over the room. "Is that the girl the Summers found from the slums? Why is she dressed like a bodyguard?" "Look at those shoulders. If she walks any closer, I'm afraid she'll decapitate me with one punch." "Hilarious. No wonder they're giving her to Damian. She looks like she can actually survive a beating." I didn't even blink at the mocking whispers of the high-society girls. Richard and Eleanor felt completely humiliated and walked far ahead, keeping their distance from me. Suddenly, a loud, obnoxious voice broke the peace. "Well, well, if it isn't the adopted Summer girl. You look pretty cute tonight. Come on, let's go to the deck and have a drink!" A young man in a loud designer shirt, reeking of alcohol, stumbled over. He grabbed Chloe by the wrist, his greasy eyes scanning her up and down. Chloe paled, trying desperately to pull away. "What are you doing? Let go of me! Dad! Julian! Help me!" She looked at her family in despair. However, Richard didn't move. In fact, he grabbed Julian to keep him from stepping in. He even bowed slightly toward the drunk man. "It is Chloe's honor that you fancy her, Mr. Vance! Chloe, be good, go have a drink with him!" I frowned. So this piece of trash was Chad Vance, a distant cousin of the Vance family who used his family's name to terrorize the city. Tears streamed down Chloe's face as she cried out in despair, her eyes frantically searching the crowd for help. Finally, her gaze landed on me. My eyes darkened. Just as I was about to step forward, Chad let go of Chloe and stumbled toward me. He looked me up and down with a disgusting smirk. "Ah, I know you. You're the scapegoat the Summers brought in to marry Damian, right? Damn, you look pretty tough. Damian's going to have a lot of fun breaking you tonight." Grinning drunkenly, he reached out his hand, trying to slap my cheek playfully. "I heard you're good at taking hits. Since you're going to be our family's punching bag anyway, why don't you let me test the goods first?" The crowd erupted into laughter. Not a single person stepped forward to stop him. "Roxy! Stand still!" Richard hissed, whispering a venomous warning into my ear. "Do not offend a Vance! Even if he slaps you today, you will smile and take it! Think about your father's gym!" The man's hand, smelling of stale alcohol, was now less than two inches from my face. I looked down at the sharp, needle-like heels of my stilettos. Suddenly, Marcus's voice echoed in my mind, back when he used to tap my shoulders with a ruler in the gym. "Roxy, as fighters, we must have honor. We don't start fights, and we don't bully the weak." I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. I will give you exactly three more seconds of my patience.
The man's hand was now less than an inch away. Sorry, Marcus. But tonight, I'm putting honor on hold. A sharp, splintering sound shattered the ballroom atmosphere. My stiletto heel violently stomped through the yacht's expensive solid-wood flooring, pinning myself firmly to the deck! Chad froze. I opened my eyes, a wild, predatory excitement blooming in my chest. I grabbed his outstretched wrist and twisted it downward. "AAARGH!" A squeal like a slaughtered pig tore through the air. Disgusted, I tossed his arm aside, ripped off my restrictive black suit jacket, and kicked off my heels. Beneath my suit pants, my ankles were wrapped tightly in professional MMA hand wraps. Before Chad could recover, I dropped my shoulder, grabbed his collar and belt, and executed a flawless, high-amplitude hip throw! A one-hundred-and-eighty-pound grown man flew through the air in a perfect arc, crashing headfirst into the seven-tier champagne tower in the center of the room! Glass exploded, and expensive champagne rained down. Chad twitched twice on the floor before passing out cold amidst the shards. The room went dead silent for two seconds before the wealthy guests erupted into terrified screams. "Roxy! Are you out of your fucking mind?!" Richard looked like he was about to have a stroke, his pointing finger shaking violently. "This is Vance property! You're going to get us all killed!" In the corner, Chloe stood with her hands over her mouth, completely awestruck. There was a glimmer of sheer, unfiltered admiration in her eyes. I casually rolled my shoulders, my neck popping loudly. "What are you screaming for?" I sneered at Richard. "Didn't you say the Vances love violence? I'm just adapting early. Showing off my core competency." "Is that so?" A deep, raspy voice echoed from the entrance. The heavy double doors of the ballroom were pushed open by two rows of imposing bodyguards in black suits. The crowd parted instantly, fleeing to the sides like they were escaping a monster. The legendary, terrifying heir of the Vance empire—Damian Vance—stepped over the wreckage. He was nearly six-foot-three, with a dark, suffocatingly oppressive face. As he walked, he slipped off his expensive suit coat, tossing it to a bodyguard, and began slowly unbuttoning his silver cufflinks. Even beneath his dress shirt, the outline of his dense, powerful muscles and explosive strength was terrifyingly clear. The dark, bloody aura radiating from him made it hard for anyone in the room to breathe. Richard's knees buckled, and he collapsed to the floor, his face white. Chloe closed her eyes, unable to watch the bloody scene she assumed was about to happen. Damian stopped exactly three paces away from me. His pitch-black eyes locked onto mine. Everyone in the room knew it: Roxy Summer was a dead woman walking. But instead of taking a step back, the blood in my veins began to boil with pure excitement. I licked my lips, staring straight at him. Slowly, I pulled off my silk tie, tore off the hem of my shirt, and wrapped the cloth tightly around my knuckles, making a makeshift pair of hand wraps. My eyes gleamed as I scanned his stance and his center of gravity. "Your base is solid. You're a real fighter," I said. I tapped my wrapped fists together and flashed him a wild, cocky grin. "So, Mr. Vance. Are we doing UFC rules tonight, or raw, unrestricted street fighting?" "Oh, and just to be clear... if I accidentally kill you, your family won't sue mine, right?"
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