In my second year running the company, my high school class monitor suddenly started tagging me nonstop in the group chat.

[Alice, Vivian was only joking with you back then. Why won't you come to her party? Are you trying to make her feel guilty?]

I didn't understand what was going on. Only after reading the messages did I realize that our class beauty, Vivian Spencer, had recently found her biological parents—and today, she had thrown a party to announce it to the world.

Me: [I'm busy.]

I had no intention of attending a party hosted by someone who used to bully me.

But my answer didn't shut them up. Instead, it stirred up even more absurd speculation.

[Don't tell me you're doing some kind of labor job and can't take leave?]

[We're all former classmates. If you show up, I'll give you sixty dollars. That should cover two days of your salary.]

Vivian chimed in as well. [Alice, it was just a joke back then. And I'd already dropped out by then. Why can't you let it go?]

I stared at her message for a long moment before typing: [Only trash would call bullying a joke.]

The group exploded instantly.

[Vivian's no trash! She's a wealthy heiress. She's not even in the same league as you. Poor people really love to nitpick.]

Vivian, ever the hypocrite, tried to smooth things over.

[No matter what, today marks a new beginning for me. I hope you'll come to witness it.

[We're classmates, after all. I don't hold it against you for forcing me to drop out. If you're short on money, I can even ask my dad to arrange a job for you.]

Then she sent a screenshot of her chat with her father.

When I saw her father's profile picture, I froze.

Wasn't that the same profile picture as my freeloading dad?

But I look seventy percent like my mom—it's impossible for me to be a fake daughter.

And Vivian was two months younger than me.

I let out a laugh. "Alright, I'll definitely attend your recognition party."

Vivian sent me the address for the recognition banquet almost immediately.

It was a very familiar place—The Hillside Estate—one of the gifts my mom gave me for my eighteenth birthday.

Just last month, my father, Desmond Spencer, had borrowed it.

If I'd only suspected earlier, now I was certain: Vivian was my father's illegitimate daughter.

Not long ago, Desmond had even texted me: [Alice darling, great news. Your mom said she'll remarry me tomorrow. We're going to be one happy family again.]

My parents divorced when I was in elementary school over some unresolved issues. For years, he never gave up chasing after my mom. He constantly bought me things, messaged me, and acted like he cared.

I truly believed he loved my mother—that the divorce had happened only because their relationship had fallen apart.

But now it was clear: he never cared about either of us.

Using things my mother gave me to boost his illegitimate daughter's status—pathetic.

I wrapped up my work and assigned the rest to my team before driving to the address.

The once-cream-colored exterior walls had been painted the same shade of pink I hated.

Walking through the gates, I saw Vivian wearing my favorite couture dress—the one I kept at the estate—standing in the center like a star surrounded by planets.

Beside her stood a well-maintained middle-aged woman and a handful of our former high school classmates.

"I always felt Vivian was different back in high school. Who knew she was a real heiress?"

"Right? I heard the estate was originally bought as a coming-of-age gift for the family's heiress. Your dad must've loved you so much, Vivian. Even before he found you, you were always on his mind."

"Vivian, you're a rich heiress now. We'll be counting on you in the future!"

Even the cold, aloof school heartthrob—who barely tolerated Vivian in high school—spoke to her with a soft tone, "Vivian, you've finally overcome the hard years. We all saw how much you endured.

"So when Alice shows up, we'll make sure you get justice. Back then, I was fooled by her looks—thought she was so innocent. Didn't expect her to be so vicious, forcing you to drop out."

Vivian lowered her head slightly, her expression perfectly wounded, pretending to defend me—though the malice and calculation in her eyes were impossible to miss.

"Back then… even the principal…"

She stopped herself, as if she'd said too much.

"Forget it," she muttered. "I'll just take the blame. We were all classmates, after all."

Her hesitation only fueled their imaginations, and soon their indignation poured out.

"Alice is shameless—using her family's power to bully our class beauty!"

"Power? Please. She wore nothing but knockoffs in high school."

"If she had no background, why did the principal help her bully Vivian? Unless…"

"So disgusting. Doing things like that in high school… no wonder she claims she's 'busy' today."

The moment they saw me enter, everyone fell silent. They exchanged looks, sneering, some even covering their noses as if I carried filth with me.

Carl Winfred looked me up and down, then curled his lip in disdain.

"Alice, even if you're broke, at least wear something decent."

The others burst into laughter.

"Unbelievable. Someone like you was actually in my class? Dressed in those bargain-bin rejects? If I were you, I'd rather die than wear those cheap clothes."

"Actually… doesn't her outfit look like the one my boss wears? I heard his was custom-made."

"Custom? Yeah right. Probably a cheap copy she bought online."

"Or maybe she stole her employer's clothes to show off—pathetic."

Their insults rolled off me as I calmly replied, "I don't wear clothes other people have worn. And this is custom-made—not some cheap knockoff."

The moment the words left my mouth, Vivian's mother stepped in front of me.

She grabbed the necklace around my neck and yanked.

A sharp pull tightened around my throat—the cold chain scraped against my skin, leaving a burning sting.

Then she slapped me, hard.

"Of course it's custom," she spat. "Because my husband paid for it.

"It's bad enough your mistress mother used my husband's money—but you, his bastard daughter, dare to bully my daughter?

"You filthy wretch. How dare you show up at my daughter's recognition banquet? Isn't stealing her identity for all those years enough? Now you want to provoke her in person? You're just like your mistress mother—cheap and shameless."

Vivian's mother's words instantly ignited the crowd.

"Mrs. Spencer, are you saying Alice is an illegitimate child? Seriously?"

Face twisted with anger, she opened the locket on the necklace. Inside was a photo of a family of three. "Here's the evidence. How could this be fake?"

"I've suspected for years that he must have a bastard out there somewhere. Never expected her to show up at my doorstep.

"And that dress belonged to Vivian. She tried it on once but felt it was too big, so she left it at home. A few days ago, while cleaning, I realized it was missing. I thought we'd lost it. Who knew he'd give it to his illegitimate child instead?"

She then pulled out her phone and showed everyone a photo of Vivian wearing the dress.

The details on the cuffs and the unique stitching were crystal clear—obviously nothing like the one I had on.

Gasps rippled through the crowd.

"They're identical… Looks like it really is Vivian's dress. No wonder the craftsmanship looks so meticulous."

Hearing her mother's accusation, Vivian's face twisted with fury. Her voice turned icy.

"No wonder your mother never showed up for parent-teacher meetings. She was afraid someone would recognize her as the mistress."

Her words sent the others spiraling.

"If her mom was a homewrecker, who knows what she's been doing? I couldn't stand her in high school. Always wearing that cold, stuck-up expression—like we owed her money."

"Exactly. She even seduced boys from the neighboring class to fight for her. I used to wonder what was so irresistible about her. Turns out, being a vixen runs in the family."

"She only looks innocent. Behind the scenes she's a mess. Back in high school, I heard she went to hotels almost every day. I even saw her hand a room card to a middle-aged man once."

"Oh my god. Seriously? Acting like that in high school? But I guess it tracks—she bullied the legitimate daughter, so what wouldn't she do?"

Even my former deskmate—someone who used to get along with me—looked at me with disgust.

"Alice, I didn't expect you to be so morally corrupt. I hate mistresses and illegitimate children more than anything. And you're both.

"Don't you dare say we were ever deskmates. Just thinking about the things you've done makes me sick."

More guests gathered, drawn by the commotion. They pointed, whispered, stared.

I glanced around. Hardly anyone recognizable. So this was the extent of Desmond's connections? A room full of strays?

Then it clicked—he didn't want anyone my mother knew discovering all the filthy things he'd been hiding.

The crowd thickened. Almost everyone had their phones out, cameras pointed at me. Some even used flash, aiming directly at my eyes.

I raised a hand to block the harsh glare and walked straight to Vivian's mother.

"First you slander my mother as a mistress. Then you slap me without knowing anything. Do you think you're above the law?"

Vivian erupted the moment she heard me speak to her mother like that. She shoved me hard to the ground, her tone dripping with arrogance.

"So what if my mother slapped you? Do you think anyone can touch me?

"You think I'm still the same girl you forced to drop out? Even if I cripple you today, your homewrecker mother won't dare say a word."

She glanced down at me, grabbed a glass of wine from a servant, and poured it straight over my head.

"Maybe you'll end up begging my dad for money later. This glass wasn't cheap. Think of it as me helping you wash that dress."

One of her followers jumped in immediately.

"One glass isn't enough. Who knows how dirty her clothes are? Let's all help wash them!"

She grabbed another glass and splashed it on me.

The crowd followed suit.

"Hahaha, scrub that stench off her!"

"Look at her. She probably loves it. This must be nothing compared to what she and her mom have done for money."

Carl, eager to show off, grabbed a bottle of champagne. He shook it vigorously, aimed it at my face, and laughed.

"Come on, drink up! Clean yourself from the inside too!"

My ankle was twisted—I could barely move. When he raised the bottle as if to smash it down, I could only lift my hand to block it.

The bottle struck the back of my hand, leaving a bright red welt.

"Alright, that's enough. This is my recognition banquet—I can't have anything serious happen.

"Alice, as a former classmate, I'll overlook your past and your identity—for today. But remember this: starting now, you'd better keep your head down whenever you see me."

I forced myself to stand, ignoring the pain. My jacket was soaked through. I peeled it off and wiped the wine from my face as best I could.

Then, with a cold, steady gaze, I surveyed every person who had just hurt me.

I pulled out my phone and dialed a number.

"Mom," I said calmly, "I'm at the Hillside Estate. I'm being bullied."

The moment those words left my mouth, Vivian's mother snatched the phone from my hand. She barked into it, sharp and venomous, "As the legal wife, I'd really love to see the mistress who could raise such a shameless daughter."

Then she hurled my phone to the floor, smashing it against the tiles.

"Look at how bold she is—don't tell me her mother has a whole flock of sugar daddies?"

"Let her mother come, then. We've got plenty of wealthy wives here today. Let's see how she hides from them."

"Please. She probably thinks her mom is some kind of superhero. Vivian is a legitimate heiress now—why would she be scared of a mistress?"

"Oh wow, I'm so scared. She's terrifying. Really."

Their voices grew louder, uglier—every sentence a baseless accusation.

I looked at the twisted faces of old classmates and guests alike, and my voice turned cold.

"I hope you can still laugh in the end."

Vivian lunged at me, trying to yank my hair. I stepped aside and shoved her away hard.

Then I turned to the person who had been directing the entire mob—her mother.

"You keep calling me an illegitimate child and my mom a mistress, but your entire 'proof' is a single childhood photo of me.

"I'm actually curious—do you have a marriage certificate? Or did you ever have a proper wedding?

"Or… is it that you already know who the real mistress is, and you just can't stand the sight of me, so you let everyone else insult me and my mother?"

With each sentence, Vivian's mother's expression darkened. Vivian sensed something was wrong and grabbed my collar.

"You bitch, how dare you provoke us?

"What illegitimate daughter acts this arrogant? If my mother weren't the legal wife, wouldn't I know? And if you're not the bastard, why don't you have the Spencer surname?"

People who had been wavering before immediately nodded. After all, most children take their father's surname.

"She's right. I almost fell for it."

"Alice is vile. Her mother ruined someone else's marriage, and now she's questioning whether Vivian's mom is the legal wife? Shameless."

Amid the rising chatter, my former deskmate suddenly jumped out.

"Oh! Alice, you've worn that earring since high school, right? It must be expensive."

At her words, Vivian's gaze snapped to the delicate stud on my left ear.

"That earring definitely isn't cheap. No way your mom bought it. My dad must've paid for it."

My expression shifted. I instinctively covered the earring.

That tiny motion was all Vivian needed. A vicious glint flashed in her eyes.

"Oh? Look how nervous you are. Did I hit a nerve? If my dad bought it, then as his legitimate daughter, I have every right to take it back."

I slapped her reaching hand away. "My mother had this custom-made to protect me. If you remove it, it triggers an alarm. I'm warning you."

My mother commissioned it after I was once kidnapped—a silent alarm that activated the moment it was taken off, sending my location to her phone.

But my phone was now shattered on the floor.

Vivian sneered.

"You think I'll believe that? Why would a bastard need protection? And even if it were that special, it still belongs to us. All your mother's money came from my dad anyway."

Seeing she had no intention of stopping, I dropped the pretense and reached for the earring myself. Vivian noticed immediately and shouted to the classmates around her, "Hold her down! I'll take it off myself."

At her command, several boys pinned my arms and legs. I was forced to my knees like some criminal awaiting punishment.

Vivian stood over me, her disgust unfiltered—more brazen than she ever was in high school.

Her fingers pinched the earring and twisted. The sharp metal scraped against my ear, sending a cold, slicing pain down my neck.

She was trying to rip it off.

But she knew—I had a bleeding disorder. If she tore it out, I could be in real danger.

"Vivian, you know I have a bleeding disorder—"

A slap cut me off, burning across my cheek.

"Don't start with that again. You used that excuse to force me out of school, and now you think it'll stop me today? I'm exposing your lies."

Before I could react, she yanked hard, tearing the earring straight through the flesh of my ear.