Shattered Vows The True Heiress's Revenge

I was standing on the rooftop, ready to jump, when a notification stopped me cold.

A familiar profile picture. A local forum post, pushed to my feed.

[My wife hurt the person who matters most to me—my little sister. I taught her a small lesson. Accidentally sent her to the ICU ten times. Now that the punishment's over, how should I make it up to her?]

The comments erupted with outrage.

But the poster replied with breezy indifference.

[You people don't get it. Her own parents signed off on everything. That tells you all you need to know—she had it coming.]

[She waltzed back home flaunting her status as the real daughter, immediately went after her adopted sister, snatched the most expensive hair clip, and made my sister cry for ten straight minutes. Her eyes were red and swollen.]

[So when she got pregnant, I staged a kidnapping. Made her believe she'd been assaulted by her captors. Then I forged ten separate paternity tests to prove the baby in her belly was some criminal's bastard. That way she'd be too ashamed to keep making trouble in front of my sister.]

[I only did it so she'd understand my sister's pain. A hard lesson now means she'll treat my sister better later. Really, it was for her own good too.]

I stared at that profile picture—an avatar I knew down to my bones—and my heart seized so violently my fingertips trembled.

In my daze, another notification popped up. Someone new had liked the post, then commented.

[The poster's wife is my biological daughter. Everything my son-in-law did was just to help her fix that jealous, petty streak of hers. If you want to blame someone, blame her. Don't you dare drag my precious girl into this.]

The commenter's profile picture was the same as the poster's—Lucinda Vance's favorite little cat icon.

So that was it. Every ounce of suffering I'd endured had been a gift from the people I loved most, all for the sake of their adopted daughter.

Fine.

If that's what they wanted, I'd give them their happy family reunion.

I closed my eyes and stepped off the edge.

"System... this time, I'm really going home."

...

My parents' tirade was still going.

[Ever since we brought her back, our precious girl developed depression because of her. We thought once she was assaulted by those kidnappers—once people were whispering about her carrying some stranger's bastard—she'd finally settle down and stop competing. But no. She turned around and set her sights on the company instead, clawed her way up to general manager, and made everyone point at our baby and call her a useless ornament!]

Nathan Sanchez followed up immediately beneath their comment.

[Luckily, I used my position as the client to make things as difficult as possible for her. Then I handed the contract she'd closed over to Lucy and promoted Lucy to general manager. But even over something that small, she had to go and cough up blood and land herself in the ICU again—just to frame Lucy. Poor Lucy had nightmares the entire night.]

I bit down on my lip until I tasted iron.

That contract. I'd begged and scraped and drank until my stomach bled to close that deal.

It was the light I'd clawed toward with my own two hands, dragging myself out of the abyss of being called a whore carrying a stranger's child.

And because of one tearful complaint from Lucinda—

the people I loved most snuffed it out with their bare hands.

A commenter asked him: [If you hate your wife so much, why did you marry her? And what's with this "how do I make it up to her" post? You're scum. Just get a divorce already. If I were your wife and found out about all this, I'd lose my mind!]

One minute later, Nathan posted a single line.

[Are you kidding me? She's crazy in love with me. So what if she finds out the truth? A little lesson like this—all I have to do is sweet-talk her and she'll get over it. But Lucy's different. She and I grew up together. She depends on me more than anyone. She's suffered enough from not being the one I married. It's only natural I treat her better.]

My parents chimed in right below.

[If it weren't for the fact that our son-in-law was in a coma after his car accident, we never would have brought her home in the first place. We even gave her the honor of being his healing bride. We've been so good to her, and she still doesn't know how to be grateful—always going after our Lucy. Our Lucy is the one who's been wronged the most here.]

Every word dripped with righteous indignation.

They were so worked up, they forgot to hide the names.

It didn't take long. Sharp-eyed users online were already connecting the dots.