The Heiress's Revenge

Isabella Taylor was kidnapped and held captive for three years. After narrowly escaping death, she finally got out and, with the help of Interpol, made her way back home.

The police car stopped in front of the Taylor Group building. Isabella got out.

A red carpet was laid out at the entrance of the Taylor Group, with many media reporters waiting around, but clearly not for her.

She looked up at the launch event poster that stretched several stories high, displaying a set of jewelry she knew all too well.

The anticipation of seeing her family that she'd been holding onto throughout the journey instantly sank to rock bottom, drowned in icy despair.

Her breathing became rapid. After a long moment, she finally started walking again.

The police officer thought she was just too emotional and smiled to comfort her: "Your family will be so happy to see you."

"Will they?" Isabella didn't think so. "They got the call ages ago, but they didn't bother to pick me up."

Not only that, they said the police must be scammers—Isabella was already dead.

The officer cleared his throat and changed the subject: "Lumaria and our country don't have an extradition treaty yet, so if we find the culprit, you might have to go to Lumaria to testify in court."

"It's fine, I understand." Isabella had mentally prepared herself for this long ago. At this moment, she looked meaningfully at Freya's photo on the display board at the entrance.

"Maybe the culprit is right here in the country?"

With police escort, the security guards didn't dare stop them. Isabella easily entered the venue.

On the central stage, Freya wore a red strapless gown, holding a microphone, tears glistening in her eyes.

"Perhaps it's my older sister Isabella's spirit watching over me, giving me inspiration again and again to design one piece of jewelry after another..."

In the display case before her, a necklace called "Burning Wings" was set with eighty-eight diamonds, their colors ranging from light red to deep red, shimmering brilliantly as the light shifted.

That was what Isabella had drawn, stroke by stroke, in a damp basement three months ago.

A thug had pressed a knife against her carotid artery, laughing with a thick accent: "If you want to live, keep drawing!"

Even after being rescued, those scenes remained nightmares Isabella couldn't shake.

During the three years of captivity, she kept wondering whose hands her designs had ended up in. Today, she had her answer.

"Freya."

As the applause died down, before Freya could speak, Isabella seized the quiet moment and called out loudly.

"Are you saying my spirit is watching over you?"

The whole venue erupted.

Everyone's eyes fell on Isabella's face, gasping in shock.

"Isn't that the Taylor family's biological daughter? I heard three years ago she went abroad and got into drugs, died overseas. How is she here?"

Isabella calmly met Freya's gaze. She caught a flash of fear in Freya's eyes.

"Didn't expect me to still be alive, did you?" Isabella smiled slightly.

"Isabella!" The shock on Freya's face grew stronger. The microphone fell from her hand with a thud. She grabbed her dress and ran toward Isabella, throwing her arms around her.

"Isabella, I've missed you so much..." Her tears fell on Isabella's shoulder. Around them, camera flashes merged into a sea of light.

But the next moment, Freya was pulled away.

The Taylor family rushed over from the VIP seats.

"Freya, she's dirty." Freya's mother, Autumn Foster, reminded her in a low voice. She looked at Isabella with complicated emotions—shock, disbelief, and undisguised disgust.

Isabella looked down at herself.

She wore a plain, coarse cotton long-sleeved shirt and faded jeans, all given to her by a kind family she'd met abroad.

Although she'd cleaned herself up after being rescued, she hadn't bathed once during the three years of captivity, and even her skin had become rough.

The stunningly beautiful face that had caused a sensation in high society circles when she was first found had now become alarmingly thin from malnutrition.

"Ma'am, Isabella is your biological daughter, right? She was kidnapped abroad and was just rescued by Interpol a while ago."

The officer's words didn't earn Autumn's gratitude—instead, her expression became even more subtle.

"Is that really true?" She looked the officer up and down suspiciously.

"Would the police lie to you?" The officer's face darkened. "Our law enforcement follows regulations. The case file has detailed records of this case..."

"Of course, we're not doubting you. Thank you for your hard work." Hayden Taylor stepped forward quickly, extending his hand to the officer and blocking Autumn behind him.

Isabella heard him quietly instruct Autumn: "So many reporters are watching. Don't ask questions now."

"My daughter was foolish, running off abroad on her own and getting into trouble. Having to bother you all to rescue her, it's really..."

"Sir, Isabella is a victim. You shouldn't talk about her like that." The officer interrupted Hayden bluntly.

"Yes." Hayden smiled. "Thank you all for your concern, journalist friends. We didn't expect my daughter to suddenly appear. We'll take her home and guide her properly from now on."

High society gossip was clearly more interesting than a jewelry launch. Reporters crowded forward, shoving microphones in Isabella's face, ready to interview her.

In the chaos, Isabella heard a short cry behind her.

Freya clutched her chest, seemingly too emotional from Isabella's appearance, swayed, and fainted.

"Sorry, today's launch is ending early! Call an ambulance!"

The reporters' questions were cut short.

Isabella watched as security guards efficiently dispersed the crowd and carried Freya onto a stretcher. She felt like an outsider.

Three years ago, on a rainy night, she and Freya were dragged into a van together at a street corner.

The kidnapper held a knife to her throat, forcing her to draw out all the jewelry designs in her head, or else they'd kill Freya.

The phone carried Freya's piercing screams.

Although Isabella was the Taylor family's biological daughter, she'd been switched at birth and grew up in the countryside, suffering many hardships. Freya, on the other hand, had been pampered and spoiled, crying over the smallest scratch.

To spare Freya some suffering, Isabella gave the kidnappers everything they asked for.

When Isabella was rescued, the first thing she asked Interpol was whether Freya had been rescued.

But the officer's answer shocked her—in the place where she'd been held, she had been the only person there from start to finish.

Later, on the way home, she saw the news.

Rising star Freya had debuted as a designer, personally endorsing jewelry she'd designed herself.

But every single piece was Isabella's design.

Throughout the journey, she thought she was dreaming, until she arrived at the Taylor Group building and saw how Hayden and Autumn protected Freya. Then she understood.

The so-called kidnapping was just a way for her family to get rid of her.

But she wasn't trying to cling to the Taylor family—why did they have to go this far?

"What are you standing there for?"

A sharp rebuke snapped Isabella back to reality.

The venue was empty now. Her mother, Autumn, stood before her, glaring: "Aren't you coming home with us? What are you trying to act all cold for?"

"I..."

Autumn's voice dripped with sarcasm: "When you went abroad and got into trouble, doing drugs and prostitution, didn't you say you'd never recognize your dad and me again? Now you have the nerve to come back?"

Isabella thought she'd misheard: "What?"