Every month, I sent money to my stepfather through Lewis, hoping to keep him calm and prevent any trouble.

But just three months in, my stepmother showed up at the factory, causing a scene.

She grabbed my hair and slapped me hard across the face.

"Emma, so you've grown some wings, huh?" she shouted.

"Not even sending money home anymore!"

Dazed from the blows, I quickly tried to explain that my stepfather had taken all the money.

He must have hidden it from her while squandering it on gambling and drinking.

But she wouldn't listen, throwing a fit like a madwoman as she continued to pull my hair and hit me.

Lewis, watching from the sidelines, shrank back, clearly afraid to get involved.

Then one of my male coworkers couldn't take it anymore; he pushed her away in anger, which only made her scream louder.

"No wonder you're broke! You must be out with some man!" she yelled.

Men, men—she only thought about men!

Did she really believe I was like her, unable to survive without one?

I wished I could silence her once and for all to stop her from barking like a dog.

As I reached out to pull her away from the break room, she suddenly dropped to the floor, flailing her arms and crying out for everyone to see.

"Come look! This shameless girl is sleeping with men and not sending any money home!"

"Ah, poor me! I came all this way just to find out what's happening!"

That's not true! It's a lie!

I shouted back, hands on my hips. This woman was twisting the truth and using her age as a shield.

She wasn't my mother; we had no blood ties!

But her wailing and dramatic performance drew whispers from the crowd.

Their glances at me and my coworker were filled with scorn and disdain.

"Tsk tsk, looks like these two are having an affair."

"They seemed so innocent before; who knew they were so reckless?"

"If my daughter dared to do something like this, I'd be ashamed enough to die."

My coworker suddenly shouted, "Shut up! You don't get to judge!"

He stepped up to my stepmother and pulled her off the ground by her collar, towering over her.

His expression was cold and intense as he spoke in a low voice filled with menace.

"She said it clearly. Your husband took the money. If you want cash, go ask him."

He leaned closer to her ear and hissed, "If you cause any more trouble, you won't see tomorrow's sun. Go ahead and test me."

Hearing this made her back away in fear, instantly switching to a conciliatory tone.

"Okay, okay! I'll go find him."

She was always one to bully the weak but wouldn't dare challenge someone who stood up to her.

"Emma," she warned as she turned to leave, "if you dare lie about this, I'll come back for you!"

With that, she hurried off as if fleeing from danger.

I was stunned by this unexpected act of heroism from my coworker.

He was only about five foot seven and looked frail, yet he had stood up to my stepmother without flinching.

Glancing at his name tag revealed his name was Kyle—someone who seemed cherished by his family.

After the chaos settled down, I wanted to thank him but didn't get the chance before he slipped away.

The next time I saw him was in a corner of the storage room where he had buried his face in his arms and was quietly sobbing.

"Why are you crying?" I asked.

Kyle quickly wiped his tears away and didn't respond, shrinking back a little.

Noticing his reaction, I pulled a piece of soft candy from my pocket and handed it to him.

"If something's bothering you, why not have some candy? It might make you feel better!"

With his messy hair, he scratched his head shyly and unwrapped the candy, popping it into his mouth.

Perhaps it was my concern or the sweetness of the candy, but gradually he calmed down and began to share his story.

Kyle was the eldest at seventeen, with younger siblings below him.

Despite their poverty, his family was filled with love and warmth.

I could sense the happiness in his voice and expression when he spoke about them.

However, the family's expenses were overwhelming. To help lighten their load, he had secretly come to work at the factory with his uncle, keeping it from his parents.

But yesterday, his father had fallen from scaffolding at work and was now home recovering, leaving Kyle feeling guilty.

"Some accidents are unavoidable," I said. "But we have to look forward. As long as we work hard, the future holds endless possibilities."

These words were meant to comfort him but also served to motivate me.

Even though my parents had passed away, as long as I held them in my heart, they would always be with me—my source of strength to keep going.

What did it matter if my stepfamily thrived on their cruelty?

Life changes; fortunes shift.

I was betting on that change.

After the last confrontation with my stepmother, things had quieted down a bit, allowing me to focus on work.

Kyle and I became good friends; during our off-hours, we would set up stalls at the night market to earn some extra cash.

Since the factory only provided dormitory accommodation for a year, we decided to share a small two-bedroom apartment.

But then my stepfather and stepmother learned about our living arrangement and stormed into our home one day, furious.

They banged on the door loudly while Kyle was out buying groceries.

"Emma! Come out! I know you're in there!"

My stepfather shouted angrily, spewing insults. "You shameless girl, just like your mother!"

I shot back defiantly, "You're the one who betrayed her!"

Hearing my voice seemed to fuel my stepmother's rage.

"You worthless piece of trash! I'll tear your mouth apart!"

With a loud crash, my stepfather kicked open the door and they both barged in, pinning me down.

He swiftly unbuckled his belt and began whipping me across the back mercilessly; each strike felt like it could break me.

"You and your money belong to the Hunter family! You think you can live your own life? Not a chance!"

My stepmother joined in with her hands too, leaving bruises all over me as she cursed at me relentlessly.

"You little brat! You got away last time; this time you won't escape!"

I struggled against their weight but felt powerless against their strength.

My face swelled from slaps; my eyes were blackened and blood trickled from my lips as I lay on the floor in pain.

They ransacked the house, turning everything upside down and taking all the cash they could find—mine and Kyle's included.

Before leaving, my stepmother spat at me in disgust. "Pfft! This little amount isn't even enough for Ethan's treatment."

"Get together fifty thousand dollars fast or be prepared to be sold off!" she threatened before storming out.

As Kyle walked in carrying groceries, he rushed over and helped me up.

When he learned it was my stepparents' doing, he immediately grabbed an iron rod, ready to charge out, but I stopped him with a loud shout.

I gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth, a murderous glint in my eyes.

"Kyle, wanna pull off something big with me?"

His grip tightened on the rod as he firmly nodded.

The revenge plan was officially underway.

Stepparents, prepare to face my crazy retaliation!