On the first night after getting kicked out of the Walsh home, I sat in a twenty-four-hour convenience store all night.

My phone showed dozens of missed calls, but not one came from Javier.

They all came from so-called relatives and friends, eager to call under the guise of concern but really just to mock me.

News of Michelle Walsh being ungrateful and bullying the true daughter had already spread through the entire circle.

I became the venomous beauty everyone despised, the ungrateful wretch who occupied the nest.

Those who once fawned over me now avoided me like the plague.

I tried contacting a few friends from the past, but without exception, they hung up hurriedly.

I had expected this all along.

It proved easy to do favors when times were good, but hard to stand by someone in need.

The cash on me only sufficed to rent the cheapest cramped single room in the city center.

No heating, windows that let in drafts, the nights cold like a freezer.

This contrasted sharply with the princess-like room I once had in the Walsh home—one in the heavens, one underground.

The huge drop did not break me.

Instead, it made my mind clearer than ever before.

I needed a job.

But every resume I sent out vanished without a trace.

Kaiden kept his word and used his connections to blacklist me completely.

Just as I neared the end of my rope, a high-end club hired me as the lowest-level server.

The supervisor proved a harsh middle-aged woman whose eyes brimmed with contempt when she looked at me. "Miss Walsh, I never thought I'd see you like this. While you're working here, put away that rich-girl attitude."

I nodded and said nothing.

I changed into the cheap uniform and started the first real job of my life.

Serving drinks, cleaning up guest vomit, getting ordered around.

My dignity got trampled underfoot and crushed to pieces.

That evening, the club hosted a grand charity gala.

I carried a tray, weaving through the glamorous guests in their finery.

Then I saw them.

Javier looked sharp and impressive in his suit.

Beside him stood Brenna in a custom evening gown, charming and lovely.

The two stood together like a perfect couple, receiving everyone's blessings and envy.

Javier, in his own name, bid on a diamond necklace worth millions and personally clasped it around Brenna's neck.

Under the flashing lights, Brenna smiled shyly and sweetly.

I could already imagine the headlines for them. "Young Andrews Spends a Fortune on His Beauty: True and False Heiress Outcome Decided."

My heart felt squeezed hard by an invisible hand, the pain almost suffocating.

At that moment, Brenna spotted me.

She clung to Javier's arm and walked toward me.

Her smile carried the gloat of a victor. "Michelle, what are you doing here?"

Her voice stayed just loud enough for everyone around to hear.

Instantly, all eyes focused on me.

Contempt, mockery, anticipation of a show.

Javier saw me too, his brows furrowed tightly, his expression complicated.

There proved surprise, pity, but mostly a reproach like "why are you here embarrassing me."

I straightened my back, trying not to look too disheveled. "I work here."

Brenna covered her mouth in feigned shock. "Oh my God, how could you take a job like this? Mom and Dad would be heartbroken if they knew."

She acted so well.

Anyone who did not know better might truly believe she acted as some kind and innocent girl.

I looked at her coldly and said nothing.

Javier finally spoke. "Michelle, if you're out of money, you could have told me. Why degrade yourself in a place like this?"

His tone carried the condescension of charity from on high.

I smiled. "Mr. Andrews, you're joking. I earn my keep with my own hands and see nothing degrading about it."

With that, I turned to leave, unwilling to watch their performance any longer.

But Brenna refused to let me go.

She grabbed my hand, lowered her voice to a level only we could hear, and said, "Michelle, you can't beat me. Javier is mine, and the Walsh family is mine. Everything you have now belongs to me."

I looked at her face, slightly twisted with jealousy, and replied in the same tone. "Is that so? Then you'd better hold on tight. After all, things that aren't yours will have to be returned one day."

A few days later, the Walsh Group held its anniversary gala, and the venue sat on the top-floor banquet hall of my club.

They specifically requested me to serve.

When I appeared in the banquet hall carrying a tray of drinks, almost everyone recognized me.

Mocking gazes pricked at me like needles.

I kept my eyes forward and tried to minimize my presence.

But they refused to let me off easily.

Brenna held a glass of champagne and deliberately bumped into me.

Red liquid instantly soaked the white shirt over my chest.

"Oh no, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to." She apologized with her words, but her eyes held no remorse, only provocation.

I gripped the tray tightly and took a deep breath. "It's fine."

I refused to conflict with her on an occasion like this. It offered no benefit to my plans.

I turned to head backstage and change, but she blocked me again. "Dear sister, don't rush off. We haven't seen each other in so long. Let's chat."

She pulled me to the poolside where few people lingered.

The night breeze carried a chill.

"Michelle, do you hate me now?" She swirled her glass and smiled triumphantly. "Let me tell you, this is just the beginning. I'll take back everything you once had, one by one."

I looked at her and suddenly found it amusing. "Brenna, what makes you think those things ever belonged to you?"

Her smile stiffened. "Because I'm the biological daughter of the Walsh family! And you are nothing but an unwanted bastard!"

I could not hold back and slapped her across the face.

The crisp sound rang out sharply in the quiet night.

She clutched her cheek and stared at me in disbelief. "You dared to hit me?"

I sneered. "So what if I hit you? Say that again, and I'll throw you into this pool to feed the fish."

My glare must have terrified her, for she instinctively stepped back.

But soon she composed herself, her eyes turning venomous. "Good. Very good. Michelle, you asked for this."

With that, she suddenly screamed, "Help! Murder!"

At the same time, she fell backward and plunged straight into the pool behind her.

I stood frozen, my mind blank.

I never expected her to frame me with such a clumsy trick.

Almost instantly, Javier rushed over with a group of people.

He saw Brenna struggling in the water, jumped in without a word, and pulled her out.

Brenna clung to him, shivering. "Javier, it was her... she pushed me! She tried to kill me!"

Javier wrapped a towel around Brenna, looked up at me, his gaze cold enough to flay me alive. "Michelle, what do you have to say for yourself?"

I opened my mouth but realized explanation proved pointless.

Would it help?

Would he believe me?

I looked at Javier, the man I once thought would support me for life.

He held another woman and judged me with accusing eyes.

"Lock her in the storage room. No one releases her without my permission." He scooped Brenna into his arms and walked past me.

He did not even spare me another glance.

Two security guards grabbed my arms and dragged me away roughly.

In the cold, dark storage room, I curled up in the corner, shaking all over.

I lost track of time until the door finally opened.

Javier stood in the doorway, backlit so I could not make out his expression.

He approached and looked down at me. "Let's divorce."

I lifted my head and stared at his blurred outline.

Tears finally fell uncontrollably.

After loving him for so many years, this proved the reward. "Let's divorce."

It felt utterly ridiculous.

I wiped away the tears, stood up, and said, "Fine."

Early the next morning, Javier's people drove me to the entrance of the city hall.

Throughout the entire process, we exchanged no unnecessary words.

We acted like two complete strangers handling the most routine procedure.

The clerk proved an older woman who glanced at us, then at our documents. "Have you both thought this through? You look like a good match. Whatever misunderstanding you have, talking it out would help."

Javier tapped the table impatiently. "Can we hurry this up?"

The woman sighed and said no more, starting the paperwork.

Photos, forms, signatures.

My hand shook so badly I could barely hold the pen.

I had whispered Javier's name in my heart thousands of times and secretly written it countless times on paper.

Now I had to personally sever it from mine forever.

I watched Javier finish signing, toss the pen aside, lean back in his chair, and close his eyes.

His profile remained striking, but exhaustion and irritation etched between his brows.

I suddenly wanted to ask him if, in these three years, he had ever truly loved me even for a moment.

But the words reached my lips and I swallowed them back.

Why humiliate myself further.

It became my turn.

I took a deep breath, picked up the pen, and wrote my name stroke by stroke.

After the final stroke, all my strength drained away.

The clerk gathered the documents and picked up the red stamp.

Once it fell, nothing would tie us together anymore.

I stared fixedly at that stamp.

My heart felt gripped by a hand that squeezed tighter inch by inch.

I had loved him, truly and deeply.

But he had extinguished that love with his own hands.

Just as the stamp hovered about to fall.

Javier's phone rang suddenly.

The harsh ringtone proved jarring in the quiet room.

He answered irritably. "What is it? Don't you know I'm busy?"

Whatever the person on the other end said changed his expression instantly.

From annoyance to shock to utter disbelief.

His eyes snapped wide open and fixed on me as if seeing me for the first time.

"What did you say?" His voice trembled.

The caller replied briefly.

Javier's body jerked violently, and the phone slipped from his hand, crashing to the floor.

He seemed drained of all strength, his lips quivering but unable to form words.

The next second, Javier lunged forward like a madman. "Stop! Don't stamp it!"

The clerk froze with the stamp mid-air, staring at him in bewilderment.