Chapter3

Dragging my torn wounds, I spun around and bolted toward the glass patio doors at the end of the hallway.

The freezing rain of the late New York autumn lashed mercilessly against my face. I grabbed the rough, hemp trellis netting strung along the balcony's edge and scaled straight down the exterior wall toward the sunken, dungeon-like garden below.

But halfway down, the rope snapped. Gravity seized me, and I plummeted heavily into the muddy, tangled shrubs.

"Ugh!"

The brutal impact ripped the half-healed C-section incision across my lower abdomen wide open. But I bit down on my lip so hard I tasted blood, swallowing my scream.

Barefoot and drenched, I plunged into the dense, black pine forest behind the estate like a madwoman.

A high-powered flashlight beam instantly swept down from the second-floor balcony.

"She ran? Release the hounds! Drag that bitch back here!" Liam’s enraged roar shattered the night.

Alarms began blaring across the estate. The torrential downpour blurred my vision. Thorny pine branches whipped wildly against my arms and face, slashing open countless bloody cuts, but I couldn't feel the pain anymore.

I skidded to a halt only when the frantic barking of two Dobermans snapped right at my heels.

There was nowhere left to run. Below the steep cliff lay the raging ocean.

I turned around. The two vicious dogs burst from the tree line, baring their fangs at me. If not for the leashes jerking them back, they would have already lunged forward and ripped out my throat.

Several blinding flashlight beams hit my face simultaneously, forcing me to squint.

Liam strode at the front, shrouded in a black raincoat. His face looked terrifyingly grim in the flash of lightning.

"Run. If you don't want to be a good little blood bag, where exactly are you planning to escape to?" He let out a cold sneer, violently jerking the leashes. "Crawl back here. Don't make me let the dogs tear your legs off."

I took a half-step back, my heels hanging over the void. A few loose rocks tumbled down into the abyss without a sound.

"Don't come any closer," I said, glaring at him with dead eyes.

My stepmother, Victoria, stood beneath an umbrella, covering her nose with a silk handkerchief in utter disgust. "Liam, why are you wasting your breath on this crazy woman? Just knock her out and drag her back. We still have to take her to sign the trust fund transfer tomorrow. If she dies out here tonight, claiming the inheritance will be a nightmare."

Chloe clung to my stepmother’s arm, draped in Liam’s expensive cashmere coat. Safe beneath the umbrella, she giggled sweetly, her eyes fixed on my bleeding lower abdomen. "Sister, just stop throwing a tantrum. You don't even have a dead fetus in your belly anymore. Even if you escape, who would want a one-kidney freak like you?"

And there was my biological father, Arthur, standing at the very back. He held a flashlight, trembling as he dodged my venomous stare. "Serena... be a good girl. Just go back with your husband."

Be a good girl. Go back.

My nails dug deep into my palms. I stared coldly at the pack of glamorous monsters standing safely under their umbrellas. They didn't even feel the need to hide their true faces anymore.

From the pocket of my blood-soaked hospital gown, I pulled out a spare smartphone I had snatched from the living room table during the chaos.

I hit 'record'.

"What the hell are you doing? Put the phone down!" Liam's face contorted the moment he saw the device.

I ignored him, panning the camera from his hideous face to the demons watching the show under their umbrellas.

"I, Serena Vance, leave this statement. My husband and my family cut open my womb, murdered my child, and forcibly harvested my kidney to steal my trust fund. And now, they are driving me to my death."

I spat out the words in seconds, then instantly hit 'send' on a delayed email drafted for major media outlets.

"Are you out of your fucking mind?! Give me the phone!" Panic seized Liam. Losing all pretense of composure, he dropped the leashes and lunged at me desperately.

I tilted my head and flashed him a desperate, resolute smile.

"Liam. And all the rest of you." I stared deep into their pupils, now blown wide with sheer terror.

"You will all burn in hell."

A split second before Liam's fingers could graze my collar, I spread my arms and fell backward into the abyss without a trace of hesitation.

"No—!" Liam collapsed at the edge of the cliff, his raw scream echoing in the night.

The wind howled violently in my ears.

I plummeted into the furious, bone-chilling ocean. The unrelenting saltwater immediately flooded my open wounds, the agony tearing through every nerve in my body. Yet, in that moment, I only felt an unprecedented clarity. I felt entirely liberated.

Die, you blind, naive Serena.

Three months later.

A top-tier private estate in Manhattan. The penthouse sky villa.

I sat in a custom, high-end wheelchair, a heavy cashmere blanket draped over my right leg.

On the massive LED screen in front of me played a live broadcast of the grandest engagement party in New York's financial circles.

Under the spotlights, Chloe, draped in a multimillion-dollar haute couture gown, clung to a sharp-suited Liam. Their smiles were proud and insufferably arrogant.

The news ticker at the bottom of the screen highlighted the headline: [Chloe, the new-generation heiress of the Vance family, ties the knot with former brother-in-law Liam. Slated to take over all family trust assets shortly.]

My bones hadn't even gone cold, yet they couldn't wait to step on my corpse to ascend the throne.

"Your ex-husband spent the last three months greasing a lot of palms to forge your death certificate, liquidate your trust funds, and suppress that video you sent."

A deep voice echoed from behind me.

Julian walked over. The undisputed king of New York's underground, a ruthless man no one dared to cross. Three months ago, it was his private yacht that dragged me back from the gates of hell as I bled out in the ocean.

He held a document in his hand and tossed it casually onto my lap.

I lowered my eyes.

At the top of the file, a glaring line of bold text read: [A-list Actor Contract].

Inside the attached folder lay a photograph of a man. He was strikingly handsome, possessing eyes even more soulful than Liam's. In reality, though, he was just a desperate, D-list extra who did anything for money.

I picked up a fountain pen and signed my name on the employer line without a shred of hesitation.

Then, I took a small card detailing the itinerary of Chloe's private cocktail party next week and paperclipped it dead-center to the contract.

On the screen, Chloe was still flaunting her diamond ring for the cameras.

I locked my eyes on that brilliant diamond, the corners of my lips slowly curling into a smile.

"Let the show begin."