Scars Of Betrayal: The Heiress's Revenge

Chapter 4 Narcissist's Delusion

Word Count: 668 | Released on: 24/02/2026

er, had managed to save a few of her old things, hiding them here. It smelled l

t on and ope

all in the hallway, smoking a cigarette. The gray sm

p and down as s

rawled, exhaling a plume of sm

She started walking

er, blocking her path. He crowded her, forcing h

to a low, suggestive murmur that made her skin crawl

had grown a second head. "

was coming. You wanted me to see you. You think if you seduce me

razing her cheek. "After all,

ouch feeling like a brand. "Don

o anger. "Sick? You're a convict, Alice. You have a record. Who el

he man whose name was on the document tucked away in a safety deposit box-the only

r voice icy. "I'm go

. Tonight at the Gala, you stay in the shadows. Do not try to upstag

. The same hand that had sanitized itsel

I will scream. And I will tell every maid in thi

him. He took a step back, straighten

er your place, Alice. You are nothing

s Italian leather shoes click

on, the desperate hope she had held onto

. His arrogance blinded him. He act

a weakness. And s

o the top of the stairs. Below, in

er. It was light

a white silk gown, looking like an angel. She was clinging

her forehead. The tenderness i

n railing until her k

game of perfect couple, pe

wn at them fr

he thought. Because she wa

Chapter End

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Scars Of Betrayal: The Heiress's Revenge

Dong Lier Romance

“I took the fall for my sister and endured three years of torment in prison. My knee was shattered, my body covered in scars, and I almost lost my life in that "accident". On the day I was released, clinging to the last shred of hope, I ran toward my fiancé Benito's Maybach-only to hear his cold voice: "Your existence is just a nuisance." It turned out that the beatings and cigarette burns in prison were all arranged by him, paid for with his money. It turned out that the sister I had protected with all my heart had long been switching my medicine behind my back, hoping I would be completely crippled. At the family gala, they joined hands to strip me bare in front of the flashing camera lights. My father slapped me hard across the face and roared: "Why didn't you just die in prison?" I smiled and tore apart my tattered dress, then dialed the number I had hidden in my heart for three years-the man who only understood blood for blood, his voice hoarse and alluring: "Turn around." This time, I will no longer be a toy to be manipulated. I will tear off their masks and burn the Stafford family to the ground. By the way, I will take back everything that belongs to me-including him, the one hiding in the shadows.”