After that night, Aurora’s reputation was in ruins.
The drama of the “Vicious Fake Heiress Drives Real Heiress to the Brink” became the biggest joke in high society.
To quell the public outcry and to give me “justice,” the Sterling family publicly announced that they were disowning Aurora and sending her to a sanatorium abroad.
They called it “treatment.”
In reality, it was exile.
And I, in the eye of the storm, became the most pitiable victim.
My “illness” was now more legitimate than ever.
The company’s psychologists and psychiatrists unanimously diagnosed me with severe PTSD and an extre me lack of a sense of security.
The only cure, they said, was to give me a sense of absolute control and safety.
At a family meeting, in front of all my uncles and elders, I sat in a wheelchair, wrapped in a thick blanket, and voiced my “wish” in a faint whisper.
“I’m scared. I always feel like… everything I have can be taken away from me at any moment.”
‘Dad, Mom, Julian… could I… could I have a small portion of the company’s shares?”
‘Only when I’m holding something in my own hands can I sleep at night. Just a little bit. One percent, maybe?
looked at them with eyes full of pleading and anxiety.
My father looked at my pale little face, his heart aching with an almost unbearable pity.
He waved his hand dismissively. “One percent? You are my only daughter! Everything the Sterlings have wil be yours one day!”
‘To help you recover in peace, starting today, I am transferring fifty percent of my shares to your name!”
A gasp went through the room.
Julian, far from objecting, was the first to support it. “I agree. As long as Lily can get better, forget the shares we’d give her the whole company.”
My mother held my hand, tears streaming down her face. “Yes, it’s all for our Lily. We don’t want anything, as ong as you’re healthy.”
And just like that, without firing a single shot, I gained controlling interest in the Sterling Corporation.
became the true master of the house.
A few months later, my health “recovered,” and I officially joined the company.
James became my most capable assistant and my most trusted partner.
He asked me more than once, “Back at the hospital, you already knew about the security camera in the living room, didn’t you?”
I would just smile and say nothing.
Some things are better left unsaid. That is the rule of the game for adults.
Occasionally, I receive a postcard from abroad. There’s no signature, just a single sentence written in twist-
ed, hateful English:
“I will be back.”
I’d look at the postcard and casually feed it to the shredder.
Then I’d pick up my coffee and gaze out the window.
You want to play?
I’m ready anytime.
Except next time, you might not even be able to afford the plane ticket home.
