Chapter 2 Recognized by a Wealthy Family

"Hey, wake up," Wendy stepped forward and gave him a light kick.

The man did not react.

She frowned, feeling rather annoyed.

Wendy had originally thought earning some extra cash on her way back would be nice, but she never expected him to be so useless. He had passed out, and he had not even given her any money.

Tsk, what a hassle.

Wendy dragged the man back to the slum.

It was only a short distance, yet the man's condition had worsened drastically. His breathing had grown faint, and his wound, which had barely stopped bleeding earlier, oozed blood nonstop again.

She knitted her brows slightly and immediately moved him into the operating room.

She pulled back the curtain, revealing a fully equipped space inside.

Wendy laid the man down on a sterile operating table and pulled over the shadowless lamp to switch it on.

Beneath the light, the man's sharp, profound facial features were drained of all color, pale almost to transparency. His long eyelashes fell, and his jawline tensed. Even deep in a coma, barely clinging to life, an air of noble refinement lingered about him.

Wendy quickly slipped on sterile gloves. Her slender, clean fingers held perfectly steady without the slightest tremor.

She cleaned the wound, debrided the damaged tissue, and stitched the lacerations…

Once all external injuries were treated, she retrieved several vials of medicine from the medical cabinet beside her. She mixed and blended the dosages according to the man's condition before slowly injecting the concoction into his body.

His previously ashen complexion gradually regained a hint of color under the lamp.

Wendy let out a sigh of relief, yet worry still gnawed at her.

Saving him had cost her money, time and energy. Now her paying client lay unconscious, and the eighty-million reward felt far out of reach.

Wendy tapped his shoulder gently with her fingertip. "We had a deal. When you wake up, you have to pay me every cent of those eighty million. Otherwise, I'll drag you out and leave you for the rats."

The second her words faded, a voice echoed from outside the door.

"Wendy! Wendy, come out quick," the visitor called in an excited tone. "I've got great news for you."

Wendy frowned and walked to the window to peer outside.

It was her neighbor Flora standing at the door.

"What is it?" Wendy asked.

Flora wore an ingratiating grin all over her face. "Wendy, your luck's turned! Your birth mother came all the way here to take you back."

"Your mother's from a top-tier wealthy clan with endless money. From now on, you'll be just like those young heiresses you see on TV. Don't you dare forget us neighbors then, alright?"

"What are you standing there dazed for? Hurry out! Your mother's waiting outside the slum. This place is far too filthy for someone like her to step foot in."

Wendy's eyes flickered. She turned her gaze toward the cabinet behind her.

A black-and-white portrait rested on top. In her memories, Grandma Violet had always worn a gentle smile. On her deathbed, she had stared toward the door, secretly hoping someone who had vanished decades ago would return to see her one last time.

Sadly, that faint wish never came true before she drew her last breath.

Wendy looked away and refused flatly, "I won't see her. Tell them to leave."

Flora tried to press further, but she fell awkwardly silent when Wendy shot her a sharp glare. Left with no other choice, she trundled off, glancing back repeatedly as she went.

Shortly after Flora left, several more people arrived at the door.

At their head stood an elegant lady dressed in a white Chanel suit.

Her makeup was immaculate, yet her bearing reeked of arrogance. She had clearly never set foot in such an area before, and undisguised disgust washed over her features.

She clamped a hand over her nose and waved the other lightly, as if a single extra second exposed her to toxic fumes from the slum.

Behind her marched several bodyguards in tailored suits. They eyed the curious onlookers with sharp wariness, as if the townsfolk were raging floods or ferocious beasts.

What an extravagant display of pomp.

Wendy watched quietly until the woman halted right in front of her.

"Wendy," Jean Scott stared at her strikingly beautiful daughter, a flicker of shock stirring inside her. She had never imagined the child she had abandoned over twenty years ago bore nearly seventy to eighty percent of her own likeness.

She composed herself and spoke with thinly veiled impatience. "I am your mother. Here is our paternity test. Pack your things and come home with me."

As she finished speaking, she seemed to recall another matter. "Oh, and I need to warn you about something in advance."

"There is another daughter in the family, one year younger than you. She is not my biological child, but I have no intention of sending her away. Once we get home, you must get along well with her."

"If you fail to do so, do not blame me for sending you straight back here."

Before Wendy could utter a single word, Jean had finished rambling entirely on her own.

Hardly had her voice died away when Jean spun around, ready to depart.

A glance from the corner of her eye caught Wendy standing motionless in place, and she frowned. "Why are you still standing there staring? Do you expect me to beg you?"

A thought suddenly crossed her mind as she spoke. "No need to bring luggage. We can buy you anything you lack once we return to the mansion."

Wendy stared at her self-righteous expression, a flicker of irritation crossing her face. "Madam, you have rambled on at my doorstep for ages. Could you please leave now?"

Jean had not anticipated such a retort, and her eyes widened slightly in surprise.

"What do you mean?" she demanded with a frown.

Wendy's features turned cold and distant. "It means I want all of you to get out of here this instant."

Jean's expression darkened sharply. "Wendy, do not bite the hand that feeds you. I came to fetch you out of maternal affection, and I have no patience for your petty tantrums."

"Maternal affection?"

Wendy pulled the door fully open, icy eyes locking onto the woman. "Madam, what maternal affection could we possibly share? If my memory serves me right, my mother died twenty years ago. No living mother would abandon her elderly own mother and a newborn daughter."

"If you want me to acknowledge this blood tie, fine. Then tell me which grave you crawled out of. I can bring flowers to worship you every holiday season!"

"Wendy!"

Jean's chest heaved violently with rage. "Is that how you speak to your own mother? Where are your manners?"

Wendy crossed her arms and leaned against the doorframe. "Sorry. I grew up without a mother, so I never learned what manners are."

"You—"

Jean nearly blacked out from fury.

This ungrateful girl! If she had not needed her to go home and marry that disabled man in place of Yingying, she would never have endured such humiliation here.

"You are coming back with me today, whether you like it or not!" Jean snapped coldly, then barked an order. "Seize her and bring her away at once."