I was the Upper East Side’s most notorious "ugly shrew." But with parents who worshipped the ground I walked on, the city's socialites and trust-fund babies had no choice but to kiss my ring. Until a "real" heiress appeared—resilient, unyielding, and unafraid of power. When my blood sugar crashed and I asked my fiancé, Preston, to grab me a piece of cake, she publicly denounced me: "Miss Vanderbilt, you have hands and feet. Why do you order people around? Slavery is over. There are no masters here!" When I sprained my wrist and asked my brother to open a water bottle, she sneered: "A parasite who only knows how to rely on others. You're a disgrace to modern women!" Later, I gave her a taste of her own medicine. When she broke her foot and was being helped by someone, I threw shade: "Oh~ looks like the resilient modern woman needs to rely on others too~" Unexpectedly, the protagonist didn't snap. My fiancé did. "Zoe Vanderbilt! You're so toxic every day. No wonder everyone in our circle is disgusted by you!" 1 The crowd gasped. "Whoa, is Preston crazy? Is he not afraid Zoe will tattle and his dad will cut him off?" "I said it ages ago, those two are gonna break up. Zoe is ugly and has a terrible temper. Standing next to her, Preston looks like a kept man." "Honestly, I'm more curious if Preston throws up when he has to kiss her..." The snickering around me was relentless. My face darkened, inch by inch. Preston's expression was tight. He had spoken without thinking, and now regret was creeping onto his face. "You..." "Preston!" Before he could explain, Chloe—the Sterling family's long-lost daughter who was switched at birth—interjected with emotion: "I thought everyone in this circle was a mindless follower, praising certain useless people who just leech off their parents." "Now I realize, you're different." Her face was full of admiration, her eyes tender. Her sweet, innocent look made Preston’s softening expression harden again. He looked at me coldly, his tone commanding: "Zoe, apologize to Chloe." I was so confused I almost laughed. "You worthy?" Preston was stunned for a second. "What do you mean?" "I mean, who do you think you are to order me around?" "Who gave you this confidence? Kanye or me?" My mouth was like poison. "Did I give you too much face lately, making you think you're actually somebody?" "Ugly and dramatic. If you have nothing better to do, go back to the farm and shovel manure." "I hear the pig farm is hiring!" I attacked indiscriminately. Preston's face turned a beautiful array of colors. He took a deep breath and blurted out his true feelings: "I'm ugly? Have you looked in a mirror? Your face looks like a baboon's ass, and your temper is worse than a rabid raccoon." "I've tolerated you since we were kids. Did you really think I didn't have a temper?!" Preston and I were childhood sweethearts. He knew exactly what to say to hurt me. I was born with a red birthmark on my face. It covered the right half of my cheek, irregular and hideous. But if you ignored the birthmark, the other half of my face was actually stunning. Honestly, this kind of birthmark could have been removed with surgery at birth, leaving negligible scars. Unfortunately, when I was born, my family was dirt poor. No money, no connections to find a surgeon. To save up for me, my parents worked odd jobs and looked for business opportunities. Since they had no time to take care of me, they sent me to the countryside to live with my grandma. I was six years old. Within days, I learned that Grandma was affectionately known as the "Village Karen"—but the hardcore version. If a single cucumber went missing from her garden, she'd curse from one end of the village to the other. Her vocabulary included colorful descriptions of various organs. She once raged so hard a thief confessed on the spot and got into a screaming match with her. The result? Grandma won. The thief even paid her fifty bucks for emotional distress. From then on, Grandma's heroic figure was branded in my mind. Even her nickname felt like a badge of honor. I practiced daily. When classmates called me "Baboon Ass" again, I mimicked Grandma, hacking up a loogie and spitting right in their faces. Hands on hips, I'd scream: "You little punk! If you didn't talk, I'd think a [beep] came to life! With that long face and thick neck, you must have been a [beep] in your past life!" "And your parents! How did they produce such a waste of space? Aren't you embarrassed to be alive? Let me tell you, your parents didn't want you anyway. Go home and check, they're probably making a new kid right now!" I stole these insults from Grandma. I didn't know what they meant, but they felt powerful. After successfully cursing them away, I turned around like a victorious general, only to see my parents standing there, eyes red. Mom was crying a river, hugging me tight. "I'm taking my daughter. If she stays here any longer, she'll be ruined!" At the time, I didn't understand why they were so sad. Despite my protests, they took me away. They had made some money and wanted to fix my face. But I refused. The doctor said they'd have to cut off the skin with the birthmark and stitch two pieces together. Thinking about it hurt. So I rolled on the floor, throwing a tantrum, refusing to agree. I even mimicked Grandma's wise tone: "If someone won't play with me because of my face, they don't deserve to be my friend." "My birthmark is a friendship filter! I'm not going to the hospital. Use the money for your business!" I had overheard them earlier. There was a great investment opportunity, but they didn't have enough money for both the surgery and the investment. I said it because I was scared of pain. But my parents misunderstood. They hugged me, sobbing: "Zoe, you're so sensible. Mom and Dad will work hard to give you a good life." From then on, they worked like crazy. In a few years, I was living in a mansion, being driven to school, and eating meals prepared by a top chef. That year, I met Preston next door. He was the middle child, sandwiched between an older sister and a younger brother. He was invisible. Unloved at home, bullied at school. My sense of justice exploded. Channeling Grandma, I spit on half the class and cursed the other half until they cried for their mommies. Since then, Preston and I became best friends. When he was bullied, I rushed in to protect him. And when people called me "Baboon Ass," he'd fight them. My parents thought he was sincere, so they arranged our engagement. They even gave the Sterling family business benefits, turning Preston from the ignored middle child into the family favorite. From twelve to twenty-two. I became the hot-tempered "ugly shrew" no one dared to mess with. He grew up handsome, becoming the circle's Prince Charming. Everyone praised his good temper and gentle nature. I was proud. A man is a woman's face—his praise was my glory! So for ten years, I thought our bond was unbreakable. Who knew he'd become the one calling me "Baboon Ass"? I stared deeply at the handsome man still demanding an apology. Suddenly, I let out a soft laugh. Under his confused gaze, I grabbed the cake next to me and smashed it right into his face. "Preston Sterling, we are done!" 2 I roared, lunging forward to grab his hair. I slapped his face, kicked his legs. "You finally said it! You always thought I looked like a baboon's ass, didn't you?!" "Have you been lying to me all these years? Using me?!" I was furious. The thought that he used me made me want to eat him alive! So, I did. I opened my mouth and bit his face hard. "Ahhh!" A blood-curdling scream echoed through the banquet hall. Chaos erupted. People tried to pull us apart, others filmed. I took the opportunity to scratch the people who badmouthed me earlier. In the end, we all went to the police station. Twenty people, all squatting in the precinct. I was bailed out first. My dad held my red hands, heartbroken. "Baby, does it hurt? Next time, Dad will get you gloves." "That way, your hands won't hurt when you hit people." The police officer's face darkened, but he couldn't interfere in family matters. He coughed, reminding us: "...Please educate your child to be civilized." Dad chose selective hearing and continued babying me. I pursed my lips, still angry. My sharp gaze swept over the people hanging their heads in shame. Finally, it landed on the two guys who insulted me. I articulated each word: "This isn't over!" Dad backed me up, glaring at them. "This isn't over!" Back home, I immediately posted on all social media platforms that I was breaking off the engagement with Preston. Mom sat beside me, hugging my shoulders. "Baby, don't be sad over a Preston. Mom will introduce you to guys who are tall, handsome, and have abs." "And tell me, who insulted you today? Mom will terminate all cooperation with their families immediately!" It's always been like this. If I get bullied, my parents find a way to get justice and crush the other party. That's why the socialites and rich kids never dared to insult me to my face. Facing my mom's angry gaze, I shook my head. "Mom, I don't want your help this time." "I want to handle it myself." Dad agreed immediately. "Good! Zoe is grown up. But if you need anything, tell us. Mom and Dad are always your backup." I lowered my head, eyes tearing up. But just as I was feeling touched, my brother, Lucas, rolled his eyes. "Sis, honestly, with looks like yours, marrying Preston was a miracle." "You didn't cherish it, and now you're breaking it off? Look in the mirror, you ugly freak." He whispered the last part. But we all heard it. We aren't deaf. Ever since he met Chloe, his attitude toward me changed completely. He became exactly like Chloe. If I asked him for water, he'd say sarcastically: "Right, some people rely on their deformity to get spoiled by parents and order others around like their hands are broken." "Treating people like slaves. You think you're an emperor, huh?" Even though I stopped asking him for anything, he still mocked my looks. I put down my phone, rolling up my sleeves to fight. But Dad beat me to it, slapping him across the face. His voice was cold and commanding: "Apologize to your sister!" I sat back down, smiling smugly at him. Lucas turned red with rage, screaming hysterically: "Dad! You hit me! You hit me for this ugly monster?!" "I'm leaving! I'm running away!" He turned to leave. Mom didn't care. She said lightly, "If you leave, don't come back." Lucas didn't stop, but he turned a corner and went upstairs. Dad was furious and wanted to follow him, but I stopped him. "Dad, forget it." I wasn't letting him off easy. I added, "Educate him later." "Help me contact a hospital first. I want to get laser surgery for my birthmark." Actually, with medical advancements, I had thought about removing it before. But over the years, I didn't really care about it. Plus, the excuse I used years ago about "testing true love" made it hard to back down. And my parents, either brainwashed by me or protecting my ego, never brought it up again. With their money and power, no one could bully me anyway. But after this incident, I realized something. Testing true love with a birthmark is bullshit! People are shallow! Otherwise, why did Preston, who "passed the test," change his heart so easily? 3 Hearing I wanted to remove the birthmark, my parents froze, then teared up. "Daughter, you finally figured it out." Mom hugged me, relieved. "I'll contact the hospital!" Dad whipped out his phone, afraid I'd change my mind. For a moment, I was embarrassed. As expected, they were just protecting my ego. Dad was efficient. That night, he contacted the best hospital in the US. Tickets booked. Before boarding, Mom hugged me reluctantly. "Baby, are you sure you don't want me to go with you?" "Are you scared alone? Maybe I should come." Recently, the family business was expanding exports, and they were working until 11 PM. I shook my head. "No, I want to go alone. When I come back beautiful, I'll surprise you." Dad was crying buckets. "Zoe, you hate pain. I just put 15 million dollars in your account. Do not save money for me." Then, he pushed our Michelin-star chef toward me. "Daughter, you won't like the food there. Take our chef. Let him take care of you, okay?" Me: "..." "Fine. Don't cry. I'm leaving." Mom waved. "Go." Dad covered his mouth, sobbing. "Don't save money!" Me: "...Okay!" The flight from Shanghai to the US took eleven and a half hours. As soon as I landed, I got a call from Preston. He was furious. "Why didn't you answer? Do you know how many times I called?!" "I went to your house and you weren't there. Where did you go?" I picked my ear, asking casually: "You care about me?" He paused, sounding unnatural. "Of course. You're my fiancée. Who else would I care about?" "And what's with the breakup post? I didn't even get mad that you bit me. Are you going to keep being a brat?" Me, a brat? Aside from cursing, I've always been a law-abiding citizen. I gave him a taste of his own medicine, and now I have to apologize? Ordered to apologize by my ex-fiancé? I laughed. "Preston, what are you pretending for?" "Your acting was so good you almost moved yourself, didn't you? Do you need an Oscar?" "Also, do you think I'm joking? You think you say a few nice words and I'll come running back to protect you?" I cursed him out: "Little punk, go shovel manure!" I spat at the phone, blocked him, and deleted him. Then, the chef and I checked into a $10,000-a-night luxury suite. I slept in the next day, then went for my checkup. Because the birthmark was large and dark, I needed multiple laser treatments. Honestly, it hurt. And every time, my face swelled up, looking even more like a butt. I could only laugh through the pain, recording my recovery. Six months later. Lucas sent another sarcastic message. [Text: Sis, I told you not to break up with Preston. Now look, he's with Chloe. You have nowhere to cry now.] Attached was a video. Preston and Chloe kissing passionately under a Ferris wheel. I tutted. "Wasted talent. Should do porn." Seeing no reply, Lucas forwarded another video. [Text: Hahaha, Sis, you're famous.] [Text: I knew your temper would get you canceled! Look, Evil Heiress abuses friends and hits people. Calling you Ugly Betty is a compliment.] I clicked the video. It was me beating up Preston six months ago. Edited heavily. With a passionate voiceover: "Rich people think they're gods. Breaking up a couple wasn't enough, she bit the boyfriend! Is this monster a dog?!" The comments were all cursing me. The top comment claimed to be an insider: [Insider: The video is true. Zoe relies on her rich dad to bully us. Once I bought her water a minute late, and she screamed at me, calling me a cripple and a retard! As for Preston and Chloe, I can't say much, but they are truly in love.] Replies: [I knew Baboon Face was the mistress. Unless Preston is blind, he wouldn't date that ugly freak.] [Exactly! Our Chloe is beautiful. Look at Preston's eyes in the video, so much love.] I raised an eyebrow, almost laughing at the stupidity. Preston and Chloe, a golden couple? They met less than a year ago, and I went from fiancée to mistress? "Zoe, everything is packed. Let's go to the airport." The chef uncle pulled the luggage, excited to go home. I rubbed my fingers, deciding to delete my drafted explanation post. Revenge is sweeter face-to-face. 4 I didn't tell anyone I was coming back. Not even my parents. Just like when I decided to leave. Decisive departure, surprise return. My villa was lit up, luxury cars parked outside. Before I even entered, I heard loud chatter. "Hey, Lucas, I bet your ugly sister isn't traveling. She's probably hiding somewhere crying because she's so hideous!" That was Liam, the guy who called me ugly at the banquet. He was a scholarship student who sucked up to me to get into my high school. His dad was an alcoholic abuser, his stepmom wanted to crush him. Once, his dad came to school to make him drop out. He cried so hard I felt bad and helped him. He knew how to act. He became my lackey, doing everything without complaint. I gave him errands. Minimum $300 a pop, never further than 200 meters. Over the years, he made a fortune off me. And the result? Another ungrateful wolf. "Who cares if she's dead or alive." Lucas looked gloomy. "The old man and mom always favored that monster. They won't even tell me where she is." A gentle voice spoke up: "Lucas, don't be angry. You're the boy. Even if they favor Zoe, the inheritance will be yours." "If you don't like her..." Chloe smiled playfully yet seriously. "Just kick her out later. Give her nothing. Out of sight, out of mind." Lucas's eyes lit up. "Right! Why didn't I think of that?" "I'll suck up to the old biased couple now. When the company is mine, I can do whatever I want with Zoe." He downed his red wine, imagining his bright future. I scoffed, walking into the living room. "Mom and Dad aren't even dead yet, and you're planning to take the company and kick me out?" Lucas's eyes darkened. He glared at me. "Who are you? Who let you in?!" His cold gaze showed he didn't recognize me. I didn't waste words. I rushed forward, grabbed his hair, and slapped him. "You little sh*t! Six months and you grew some balls, huh? Plotting against me? Trying to take the company?" "Dream on, you idiot!" "The family business would go to a turtle before it goes to you!" Hearing my trademark insults, everyone realized who I was. "Zoe? Holy sh*t, did she get plastic surgery? How is she so hot?! Where did she go? No scars at all!" "Doesn't look like surgery... it's so natural. If it is surgery, I need the doctor's number!" Unlike six months ago, no one tried to stop me. In three minutes, I beat Lucas black and blue. His eyes were unfocused, but he kept cursing: "You ugly freak, you dare hit me? I'll tell Mom and Dad to kick you out!" The last sentence was weak, barely a whisper. I laughed. I grabbed his collar and flipped him over my shoulder, slamming him onto the floor. "Don't bother telling them. I'm announcing it now: You are disowned!" "You played brother for a few years and thought you were the heir?" "I picked up a stray dog, and it turned into a wolf. Pfft!" "Get out!"
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