Don't Mess With the Adopted Girl

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

In the penthouse suite of Shadowvale's top hotel, the man removed his gold-rimmed glasses, revealing a sculpted, deeply intense, and aggressive face.

Claire Blackwell's eyes were tinged with red. She stood on tiptoe, grabbed the man's shirt collar, and her red lips moved to bite his Adam's apple.

How could she not!

She had been drugged with an aphrodisiac. Her body was burning with unbearable heat, desperate for the man to tear her apart.

Her clothes were ripped. A cool sensation swept across Claire's chest. The moment her back touched the bed, the man's warm lips bit down on her breast.

Claire arched her body, pushing into the man's mouth, her hands reaching down toward him.

When Claire left home, Rowan Blackwell, the real daughter the Blackwell family had just found, asked her for a ride.

When she woke up again, she was in a hotel bed, her body abnormally hot—a sign she'd been drugged with an aphrodisiac.

And there were two of Crystalbrook's most notorious sleazy men, pulling down their pants in front of her.

She kicked each of them in the groin.

She called her friend Cordelia Fox to find a male escort to help with the drug.

The man's large hands roamed over her body. Wherever his fingers went, it was like lighting a spark, making Claire cling tightly to him, wanting more.

The next morning.

As soon as Claire turned on her phone, Cordelia called.

"How was the male escort's service last night?"

Cordelia never talked seriously.

Claire looked at the man sleeping beside her.

"Face is okay, skills average, nice hands, bit old."

"20 years old and you think he's old?" The woman on the phone sounded excited.

20 years old?

Claire's gaze swept over the man. On his well-defined, handsome chin, a patch of light blue stubble had just appeared this morning.

Was this man's hormones too strong? A 20-year-old's stubble rivaling a 30-year-old's.

Though, it was pretty sexy.

Claire was completely naked. She grabbed a white thing and covered the man's eyes, quickly got dressed, and left.

Her waist hurt, her legs were weak.

Male escorts these days were too dedicated. Even when she said no more, he kept going at it again and again.

"What happened to those two bastards?" Claire asked the phone, holding her waist.

"Claire, your aim was off yesterday. Those two bastards' dicks can apparently still be fixed."

The drug was already taking effect then—no wonder her aim was off.

If it had been someone else, given those two men's perverted tastes, they'd have been completely destroyed.

"Did you clean up the hotel traces?"

"Don't you trust me?"

"Hanging up."

Claire had always been cautious. Before going out yesterday, she drank juice brought by her 5-year-old niece.

Rowan actually used a 5-year-old child to drug her with an aphrodisiac—she deserved to die!

She didn't call the police because her older brother Nathaniel Blackwell was abroad receiving treatment.

If she reported this, it would involve three families, and word would inevitably reach Nathaniel, affecting his treatment.

Those two bastards were both powerful rich kids. Getting kicked in the groin, they definitely wouldn't let it go.

But without evidence, they'd have to go after Rowan—the real culprit.

How Rowan dealt with it, whether she could deal with it, was her problem.

"Wait, don't you want to know what else that fake bitch Rowan did last night?"

"Last night, Rowan was forced to drink at a bar. Your adoptive mother Brooke Sinclair arrived just in time and wanted to call the police. The guys said you paid them to do it."

Claire laughed coldly. "Framing me, making up lies—Rowan's quite the player."

"Have those guys who forced drinks at the bar turn themselves in to the police. Pay them more."

Since Rowan came back, she'd repeatedly made up stories to paint herself as pure and vulnerable, making Claire's adoptive parents believe she couldn't accept Rowan.

This incident would be perfect to show that blind couple Rowan's true face.

Laughter came from the phone. "The police are taking statements from those idiots right now. Should I come pick you up at The Blackwell Mansion?"

"You just want to watch the show, don't you? No need."

"Then I'll wait for you in Crystalbrook."

"Okay."

Claire hung up, a trace of melancholy floating in her clear eyes.

She had wanted to wait until Nathaniel came back before leaving.

...

In the suite, as soon as Claire left, the man on the bed removed what was covering his eyes.

Pure cotton, pure white!

His underwear!

The man's face instantly darkened.

He found his phone and made a call.

"Look into a woman!"

She thought he was old—he was only thirty!

On the other end: Spread the word—Valdoria's richest man, the celibate Vincent Thorne, has finally lost his virginity!

...

The Blackwell Mansion.

Claire had just stepped on the first step at the entrance when a loud crash came from inside, and a red suitcase was thrown out.

"Get out!" Brooke stood at the doorway, glaring at Claire like she was looking at an enemy.

"You're an orphan who lived as a rich young lady in the Blackwell family while my biological daughter Rowan suffered outside. We finally found her, and you hired people to violate Rowan. Are you an animal?"

Claire remained detached, her expression calm, showing no emotion, offering no explanation.

The Blackwell family adopted Claire from the orphanage—it was Grandma's decision.

Brooke and her husband Henry Blackwell hadn't mistreated her, but they hadn't cared about her either.

Like her birthday, how she was doing in school, what she did during vacations—they didn't know.

After Rowan came back, Brooke found several marriage prospects for Claire, all from excellent families, just all physically ugly.

"Mom, don't be angry. The Taylor family says they want Claire in prison—she's pitiful enough already."

Rowan held Brooke's arm, her tone sickeningly kind.

The Taylor family was one of the bastards Claire had kicked in the groin yesterday.

Remembering how forceful the Taylor family was on the phone, Rowan's lips curved into a cruel arc.

Claire wasn't destroyed, but prison would be a nice place for her.

The Blackwell family had a marriage alliance with the Jenkins family. Now that she was back, that marriage naturally belonged to her, the real daughter. But the Jenkins family seemed reluctant to let go of Claire.

An orphan girl—how dare she try to steal her marriage!

An orphan girl—how dare she have such a high-class face.

"She's pitiful?" Brooke got even angrier, glaring viciously at Claire.

"The Taylor family and the Davis family—which one is easy to mess with? She put both families' heirs in the hospital. She's clearly trying to create enemies for the Blackwell family, trying to destroy us!"

"Claire, not reporting you for hurting Rowan is already our greatest mercy. Leave. From now on, everything about you has nothing to do with the Blackwell family." Henry appeared at some point.

His face was cold and stern, full of disappointment.

They raised Claire for 18 years, expecting her to be useful in a marriage alliance to benefit the Blackwell family. Instead, she kept sabotaging things.

Now she'd offended the Taylor family and the Davis family, and plotted against his biological daughter!

He really regretted bringing her back from the orphanage.

"Here's ten thousand dollars for rent. You were surnamed Garcia at the orphanage—change your name back." Henry held out a stack of bills, looking cold, like giving charity to a beggar.

Claire didn't even glance at the money. Instead, she looked at the man she'd called Dad for eighteen years and smiled.

When she smiled, her bright eyes curved beautifully, dazzlingly pretty, except for a trace of mockery at the corner of her lips.

Henry frowned.

"You don't need to be merciful. I'll call the police." Claire's voice was cold as she took out her phone, pretending to call the police.

Actually, she was calling Cordelia to ask when the police would arrive.

Hearing this, Rowan rushed down the steps and grabbed Claire's hand holding the phone.

"Claire, are you stupid? Calling the police will only make things worse for you, don't you know?"

Claire laughed coldly. "Why do you look a bit guilty?"

Rowan's face stiffened.

Claire had offended the Taylor family and the Davis family—why wasn't she worried at all? Where did her confidence come from?

"Stop talking. Take your stuff and leave quickly. Don't wait for the police to come arrest you here—it's bad luck." Brooke urged impatiently.

Last night at the bar, she'd already noticed something.

But so what?

With Rowan back, they no longer needed Claire to maintain the marriage alliance with the Jenkins family. She was redundant.

Claire still didn't know her place, refusing to accept other marriage arrangements and always bullying Rowan. What use was keeping her?

This was the perfect excuse to kick her out—no one could blame the Blackwell family.

"Mr. Blackwell, Mrs. Blackwell, the police are here."

Claire turned around to see several uniformed officers entering the yard.

Claire raised an eyebrow. Perfect timing.

Brooke and Henry both frowned.

They shouldn't have let Claire in the door—embarrassing and unlucky.

Rowan felt differently. Seeing the police enter, excitement surged in her heart.

The Taylor family really kept their word—excellent!

She'd just been regretting that with Claire leaving now, she wouldn't see Claire's pathetic arrest.

"Claire," Rowan put on a worried expression, "don't be scared. I'll visit you often. I'll also ask Dad to help you out, so you can be in prison—"

Rowan's words were cut off by a police officer's loud voice.

"Which one is Rowan?"