"So, that's why Queen Myra disappeared for five years. She was secretly living her best life!"

"Get rid of all this trash. Throw it out. If Georgie comes back and sees it, he'll be upset." Myra wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and pinched her nose at a pile of brand-new collectibles.

The movers immediately began hauling my things toward the garbage area. There, mixed in with filth and trash, were antiques and paintings I had collected from all over the world.

"Stop!" I grabbed a worker's arm and turned to Myra. "Who do you think you are? What are you doing in my house?"

"Oh, my God! Bitchel Miller actually dared to show up?"

"Hey, can't you read? The banner says congratulations to Mrs. Pearce. Do you think you're Mrs. Pearce? What a joke!"

"Delusional fans these days are taking it too far. Squatting in someone's house is unacceptable."

"This estate must be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Of course she'd try to ride off the hype. What a shameless tramp!"

I slapped the reporter who was running his mouth and snapped, "And who the hell are you? Who gave you permission to come in here?" I knocked his camera aside, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him out. "Get out!"

"Stop!" A slender, pale hand blocked my way.

Myra frowned slightly, her delicate face showing an imposing expression. "Ms. Miller, I'm usually very easy-going, but that doesn't give you the right to cause a scene on my property!"

"She's lost it! Rachel, the crazed fan, actually dared to cause trouble on the goddess' turf. She actually thinks this is her home?"

"Hah! She really thinks she's Mrs. Pearce, doesn't she? How ridiculous!"

I shot Myra a cold glare. "Move. I don't welcome outsiders in my home. That includes you."

Myra positioned herself in front of the reporter, her brows furrowing deeper. "Ms. Miller, I know you've held a grudge against me for years because of my husband. I don't mind that.

"Today is my housewarming. If you'd like to offer congratulations, you're welcome as my guest. But if you insist on clinging to delusions and assaulting people on my property, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She stood there in an elegant black dress embroidered with a floral print, a white shawl draped over her shoulders, and high heels, which elevated her graceful posture. Her crisp voice instantly won over the crowd. Cameras flashed wildly.

"Goodness! This is indeed our goddess! I'm dead. Her charm is killing me.'

"Our goddess is so polite, classy, and principled. Where do you find someone like her? I'm a loyal fan for life."

"If I were Myra and some psycho came pretending to be me and crashed my new house, I'd have security beat her and throw her out."

Myra showed little outward reaction, but the corners of her lips curved slightly in satisfaction. When she looked back at me, her chin lifted. "Ms. Miller, for old times' sake, it would be best not to stir up trouble."

I slapped her hard across her face. A red mark bloomed on her cheek instantly. I slammed the property deed against her chest, grabbed her collar, and said, "Take a good look. This is my property, not yours. You stole my daughter's spot in school, and I haven't even settled that score yet.

"Now, you want to squat in my estate? You're nothing but my husband's assistant. Who gave you permission to come into my home and cause a scene?"

"Ah!" Myra clutched her face and bent forward, wobbling unsteadily in her heels. Her voice trembled as she yelled, "Help!"

"Have you no shame?" Someone suddenly shoved me hard, nearly snapping my manicured nails. "Coming into someone else's house and making a scene! Is this a cry for attention?

"I can't stay silent anymore. If it weren't for not wanting to ruin Queen Myra's housewarming, I'd have dealt with you already! How dare you call our goddess your husband's assistant? Do you really think we wouldn't dare lay hands on you?"

I steadied myself, gripping my phone tightly, and sneered. "Alright. I've already called the police. Come at me if you dare!"

Myra's expression shifted subtly when she heard about me calling the police.

But a reporter quickly cut in, "Hah! You're just a scammer. Even if the cops show up, you'll be the one in trouble! Get out now. Queen Myra's property has no place for trash like you."

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the gate. I lost my footing and stumbled forward, about to crash onto the ground.

"What's going on here?" a clear voice rang out.

I snapped my head up.

"Oh! It's the estate's new property manager!"

"I remember her. She's that senior executive our paper featured, the one who worked her way out of poverty."

When I saw Jennifer Stewart approaching, I finally had a shred of hope. "Jennifer! Over here! Tell them the truth."

Jennifer was the college student I had sponsored for years. Due to her exceptional capabilities, the moment she graduated, I hired her at a high salary to manage my new estate. If anyone could clear things up, it was her.

"Jennifer…" Myra's expression shifted.

I shot her a cold look and grabbed Jennifer's hand. "Jennifer, tell them whose house this is."

"Miss…" The hand I was holding struggled, then slipped free. Jennifer forced a polite smile at me and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't recall inviting you here."

"Jennifer?" I was stunned.

Jennifer moved to Myra's side, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She asked with concern, "Mrs. Pearce, are you okay?"

"Mrs. Pearce?" For a second, I thought I had misheard.

I grabbed Jennifer's arm and turned her back toward me. "You don't recognize me? I'm Rachel Miller, the one who sponsored you!"

She looked startled, the smile on her face faltering. "I'm sorry, but the one who sponsored me has always been Mrs. Pearce…"

My anger flared instantly as I snapped, "I am Mrs. Pearce! You graduated just last month, and I attended your graduation ceremony. You recognized me perfectly fine then!"

"I… I didn't… I don't know what you're talking about…" Jennifer's eyes instantly filled with tears, her voice breaking.

"That's enough!" Myra slapped my hand away and pulled Jennifer behind her, frowning at me. "I know you resent me for taking Georgie from you. That's between us, and you can take it out on me. Why drag an innocent child into this?"

"Oh, my God! This is what a real sponsor looks like!"

"Exactly. People who truly care treat those they sponsor like their own children. They would never grab and rush them like that."

"I'm going to cry. Our goddess is so generous and kind. She and Mr. Pearce truly deserve each other!"

"What's wrong with Rachel? As if stealing a man isn't enough, now she's trying to steal credit for Queen Myra's charity work. What a bitch!"

Cameras flashed wildly. I stared at Jennifer in disbelief as she hid behind Myra, muttering, "Jennifer…"

Her eyes darted away, avoiding my gaze. She blinked, tears nearly falling. "Miss, I really don't know you. Please don't treat me like this…"

"Rachel!" Myra tightened her grip around Jennifer and shot me a warning glare. "I… I won't let you hurt her!"

A strand of hair fell loose, swaying beside Myra's face. Her gaze was defiant, making her look wounded yet resolute. It was the perfect picture of a wronged, dependable heroine.

"Poor Myra! It's all that bitch's fault!"

"I can't take this anymore! Someone needs to teach that bitch a lesson."

"While everyone was so focused on that tramp, I noticed something. The bitch's car looks familiar. I think I've seen it in Queen Myra's posts before. Don't tell me that's stolen too?"

"Let's smash it!"

"No!"

My heart clenched. But it was already too late.

Someone sprinted toward my car, raised a metal rod, and smashed down hard on the windshield.

Sitting in the car, Noelle screamed at the top of her lungs, piercing and hysterical.

"Damn! Even the bitch's kid is a little bitch! What are you crying for? Cry again, and I'll drag you out and beat you!"

"Noelle!" I screamed and lunged toward the car, but a high heel shot out and tripped me. I slammed hard onto the ground.

Myra stood there with her arms crossed, looking down at me with a cold, mocking smile.

Someone immediately grabbed me and yanked me upright, then slapped me across the face. "Our goddess already gave you a chance to leave, but you just had to stick around to get beaten, huh?"

"Stupid bitch! Watch me beat you to death today!"

My mouth filled with the metallic taste of blood. I fiercely bit into that person's hand. He howled and jerked back in pain.

Clenching my jaw, I ripped the wedding ring off my finger and hurled it at his face. "I am George Pearce's wife. You all will pay for this!"

Someone caught the ring. The moment they saw it, their expressions changed.

"Stellar Oath? This is the invaluable ring Mr. Pearce bought at the auction back then. There's only one in the world. How could it be on her hand?"

"Wait… Didn't Mr. Pearce say that was meant to be his wedding ring?"

I spat out a mouthful of bloody saliva and stared at them coldly. "Let me go, and I'll consider not pursuing this matter."

"Hah! You still dare use such a shoddy copy to scam people?"

A nearly identical ring was tossed in my direction. Myra had taken it out of her bag and looked at me with disdain. "Ms. Miller, I didn't expect you to copy me to this extent. Even a replica of Stellar Oath isn't cheap."

My breath caught in my throat. "Impossible… He personally put that ring on my finger after the auction. Where did you get a fake?"

A slap landed squarely on my face.

Myra frowned, clearly irritated. "I'm so sick of you! I gave you chance after chance, and you still insist on clinging to me and my husband."

She then pulled out a stack of documents and flung them straight at my face. "Look carefully and then tell me who's the real homewrecker here!"

The marriage certificate fell open in front of me, the same one I had once believed was edited. It now lay there, real and undeniable. The names on it, George Pearce and Myra Larson, were jarring.

George…

My hands trembled as I picked up the scattered photos one by one. From childhood to adulthood, from school to workplace, and from youth to maturity…

The two of them running hand in hand to school, George taking a big bite out of Myra's ice cream, and the two of them leaning against each other in an amusement park at night, smiling brightly…

They… had known each other for a long time… They had been married for five years…

In an instant, my three-year marriage turned into a joke.

A set of car keys hit my face as Myra spoke indifferently, "Please leave now. Take care of yourself."

"Noelle?" a familiar voice suddenly rang out. "What are you doing? Stop!"

It was George.

Sirens wailed in the distance.

"It's okay. Don't cry. Daddy's here…" George lifted Noelle out of the car.

Meanwhile, the police immediately pushed the crowd aside.

When George saw me, his expression shifted. He handed Noelle to Clyde, then turned to me. "Rach, what happened here…"

Before he could finish, I slapped him hard across the face.

He clutched his cheek, staring at me in shock. "Rach?"

"How does it feel to have your cake and eat it too?"

He froze. "What are you talking about?"

I threw the marriage certificate between him and Myra straight at him. "I want a divorce. Noelle stays with me."

With that, I turned to take Noelle.

George reached out in panic. "Rach, this must be some kind of misunderstanding. You're my only one…"

His words came to a halt abruptly as Myra walked over.

The moment he saw her, his outstretched hand froze, and his expression hardened. "It's you…"