The woman was the mother of the victim from the Crestwood Estate case.

She wasn’t alone—she was accompanied by a swarm of reporters.

The blinding flashes from their cameras made Yara feel dizzy.

The woman shoved and struck Yara as she screamed, "I told my daughter not to sue! I told her we couldn’t fight against the rich. But this woman said she had the confidence to win!

"And what happened? My daughter was labeled a prostitute and jumped to her death. And now look at her—she’s out of prison! Why didn’t she die? She’s the one who deserves to die! I want her to pay for my daughter’s life!"

Yara stumbled backward from the woman’s push and fell to the ground.

Elena caught her, then forced Yara’s face toward the cameras, exposing the jagged scar on her forehead.

"The Crestwood Estate case was my sister’s fault, but she’s already paid the price. Look at her scar. The victim was just a waitress, while my sister is the heiress of a wealthy family. How could her lowly life compare to my sister’s?"

...

That night, Yara became the subject of the prime-time news.

On camera, Elena addressed her affectionately as "sister" and delivered her carefully crafted remarks, making it appear as though Yara shared the same sentiments.

When the news aired, the internet exploded with outrage aimed at Yara.

"A disgrace to the legal profession. No wonder she got a year in prison. One year was too light. She should’ve gotten life."

"Props to her cellmates for bullying her. She deserved to be disfigured. From a high-society heiress to a tabloid scandal."

"Does anyone know this shameless lawyer’s address? I’ll send her a little ‘gift’ to show my appreciation."

The comments didn’t just insult Yara. They began to escalate into threats against her safety.

After much thought, Yara decided she needed to set the record straight.

She recorded a video to clarify everything and was about to send it to the media when Westley suddenly stormed in.

He snatched her phone away and demanded angrily, "Do you even know what you’re doing?"

"I’m going to clear my name.”

"Clear your name? Do you realize how much this will hurt Elena?"

Yara stared at the man she had been married to for five years, the light in her eyes slowly dimming with each word he spoke.

This was the man who once held her hand and swore with absolute certainty that he would protect her for a lifetime.

Now, for the sake of another woman, he was demanding that she bear all the blame.

"What about the pain I’ve endured? Westley, whose husband are you supposed to be?"

"Yara, I’m your husband, but I’m also Elena’s brother-in-law. I have to stand on the side of what’s fair," Westley said, his voice laced with self-righteousness.

“Elena has been defending you wholeheartedly, and now you want to turn against her?"

Yara found it laughable.

"Turn against her? Who caused me to be hated by everyone? Has Elena really ever stood up for me? Westley, are you blind or just heartless?"

"Yara, you’re being unreasonable."

"Unreasonable? That’s you! Westley Langston, give me back my phone!"

Yara stood on her toes, reaching for the phone.

Westley raised it high above his head and, without hesitation, deleted the video.

Yara froze, her hand suspended mid-air.

"Westley Langston, what gives you the right to delete my video?"

Westley’s face was cold and unyielding.

"Yara, stop dreaming. There’s no going back for you now. Besides, one top-tier lawyer in the Cullen family is enough. From now on, just focus on being a housewife."

Yara stared at the man before her, and the last glimmer of light in her eyes finally extinguished.

She didn’t want to cry for him. He wasn’t worth it. But the tears fell uncontrollably.

"Westley, I graduated as the top student from Hudson University’s law program. I worked for five years without losing a single case. Every senior in the field said I had talent...

"And now you’re asking me to be a housewife, just so Elena can take my place!"

Perhaps Westley had long forgotten, but Yara remembered it vividly.

Back then, she was the star of Hudson University’s law program, while Westley was a poor student from the neighboring economics department.

Even his tuition had been funded by Yara’s mother.

There were always plenty of boys vying for Yara’s attention—some wrote her songs, others brought her flowers.

But none of them were like Westley, who waited outside the women’s dormitory every day.

In the summer, he brought her cold drinks; in the winter, warm tea, all for the chance to give her a ride to the library on his bicycle.

Yara never paid him any attention.

Her dormmates often mocked him, laughing and saying, "Look at him—thinking he can land a princess! Guess fairy tales really are just fairy tales."

That day, everyone burst into laughter.

Everyone except Yara. She stopped, walked up to Westley, and said, "I’ve never ridden on a bicycle before. Teach me."

Before long, news of Yara and Westley dating spread across Hudson University.

Several upperclassmen joked that they were already heartbroken before they even had a chance to ask her out.

The school forum buzzed with posts predicting how long their relationship would last.

After all, the gap between them was too great.

Westley was average in every way, while Yara stood out in looks, grades, and family background.

What no one expected was that the two would get married right after graduation.

When Yara accepted his proposal, she looked into his eyes and said, "Westley, you’ve been so good to me... so good that it almost makes me feel guilty.

“It feels like saying no to you would be letting you down. Will you keep treating me like this forever?"

Westley didn’t hesitate to give her his answer.

He held Yara tightly in his arms as if he wished he could rip his heart out and show it to her.

"Yara, you’ve given me a new life. You’ve made me feel like a real person. I’ll spend the rest of my life being good to you, and only you."

Looking back now, it was nothing short of ironic.

They had only been married for five short years, but to Yara, it felt like a lifetime ago.

There was no such thing as "forever."

A man’s promises, once spoken, were destined to be broken.

By the third year of their marriage, her father, Robert Cullen, brought Elena back into the family.

From that day on, Yara felt as though she was gradually losing both her father and her husband.

Robert, a man of few words, would spend hours patiently comforting Elena after she lost a case.

And Westley, who couldn’t even name her favorite hobbies, would stay up all night to watch soap operas with Elena.

The Crestwood Estate case a year ago was the final turning point, a line that forever divided Yara’s life from Elena’s.

…

Yara lay awake until the early hours of the morning and didn’t wake up until midday.

As she descended the stairs, she heard the sound of laughter echoing from the living room.

Elena, Robert, and Westley were talking and laughing together.

Whatever Elena said must have been hilarious, because Robert’s face was creased with delighted wrinkles.

Westley was also smiling warmly, and with a playful gesture, he tapped the tip of Elena’s nose.

The cheerful, harmonious atmosphere came to an abrupt halt the moment Yara appeared.

It was as if she were an intruder trespassing on someone else’s territory.

But this was her home.

Even the villa itself was part of the inheritance her mother had left her.

Elena leaned against Westley’s arm. “Yara, you’re so lazy. We’ve already had lunch.”

Robert responded casually, “Have the kitchen make her some pasta.”

Elena let out a theatrical sigh. “The cook said she had personal matters and took the afternoon off. No one’s here to make pasta for her.”

Without even glancing up, Robert said, “Then order takeout. Young people love takeout these days.”

As he spoke, he turned to Elena with a warm smile, every wrinkle on his face radiating affection.

“Elena, don’t think I don’t know you’re always secretly ordering takeout. It’s not good for your health. Don’t do it again, alright?”

Elena playfully stuck out her tongue.

Yara remained expressionless, averting her gaze without a word, and turned to head for the door.

Suddenly, Westley stood up. “I’ll make her pasta.”

“Westley!”

Elena’s displeasure was obvious, but Westley was already walking toward the kitchen.

She shot Yara a cold glare, rolling her eyes dramatically.

At that moment, a housekeeper walked in, holding a cardboard box. “Miss Yara, a package has arrived for you.”

Yara stopped in her tracks. “For me?”

The housekeeper set the box on the table. “Yes, the recipient’s name is yours.”

Yara frowned slightly, confused. She had just returned and hadn’t ordered anything online.

Elena’s eyes darted mischievously as she grabbed the box from the table.

“Let me see what my dear sister has been shopping for.”

She began opening the package while sneering sarcastically. “Yara, you just got back and you’re already shopping online? You must be in quite a good mood.”

Before the words were even out of her mouth, a sharp scream suddenly filled the room.

The box flew three meters across the room, landing with a thud.

A bloody, mangled mess tumbled out, leaving a crimson streak on the carpet.

The housekeeper, trembling, stammered in horror, "A dead rat... how could it be a dead rat..."

At that moment, Westley walked out of the kitchen, holding a plate of pasta.

He froze at the sight, dropping the plate immediately, and rushed toward Elena.

“Elena, are you alright?”

He knelt in front of her, gently holding her hands, his expression as tender as if he were handling the most precious treasure.

Elena offered a sweet, coquettish smile. “I’m fine, Westley.”

Glancing toward Yara, she suddenly pouted, her face full of grievance. “But Yara... she bought that dead rat on purpose to scare me. It nearly gave me a heart attack.”

Westley frowned and turned to Yara. “What’s wrong with you? Did prison twist your mind?”

Robert’s voice cut through sharply. “How could you be so cruel? Apologize to Elena immediately!”

Yara lifted her head, her expression numb. “What makes you so sure I bought the dead rat?”

Elena’s voice rose, shrill and indignant. “Who else could it be? Your name was on the box!”

Yara’s voice remained calm as she countered, “Have you never received a package from someone else? Just because my name is on it doesn’t mean I ordered it.”

Elena hesitated, her expression faltering before twisting into disdain.

“Are you saying someone sent it to you? Please, you just got out of prison. Who would bother sending you anything?”

Yara let out a sarcastic laugh. “Maybe you can answer that. Without your little stunt, would someone have sent me a dead rat?”

Elena’s face flushed crimson. “You’re saying someone else sent it? I say you bought it yourself! Prove it wasn’t you!”

“And why should I prove anything?”

Yara tilted her chin slightly, her gaze steady.

“Under the principle of presumption of innocence, if you think I’m guilty, it’s your job to prove it, not mine to prove my innocence.

“Elena Cullen, you’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Don’t you even understand this basic principle?”

Standing in the morning light, her figure seemed to glow with an almost sacred aura, exuding a quiet yet commanding dignity.

Westley watched her, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if he were seeing the Yara of the past—the undefeated lawyer.

Sharp in her words, clear in her logic, armed with evidence and reason.

Every time she spoke, she left her opponents with no room to fight back.

Robert stood up, slamming the newspaper onto the coffee table with a loud thud.

“Is this a courtroom or a home? Your law license has been revoked! What’s with the act, pretending to be some hotshot attorney?”

Yara’s straightened back suddenly sagged, and a faint ache spread through her chest as she stared at her father, whose bias knew no bounds.

He was right—she could never be a lawyer again.

But wasn’t it because of them that she’d lost everything?

The housekeeper nervously pointed to the box. “There’s a note inside… it looks like someone wrote something on it.”

Westley strode over and picked it up. His expression shifted, a trace of unease flickering across his face.

Elena pressed eagerly, “Westley, what does it say? Read it out loud!”

His jaw tightened as he read the note aloud. “Disgraced lawyer Yara Cullen, you’re nothing more than a rat scurrying through the streets. You’ll end up just like this one.”

He set the note down and glanced toward Yara, who stood not far away.

Her head was bowed, her face as pale as a sheet of paper.

Her frail figure looked like it could dissolve into the light at any moment.

Something inside Westley twisted sharply.

Robert let out a cold snort. “I told you long ago not to become a lawyer. If you’d listened, none of this would’ve happened.”

Elena chimed in, “Exactly! This is all your fault! You scared everyone half to death.”

Without a word, Yara turned and headed upstairs, her shoulders slumped, her back hunched slightly.

Westley’s feet moved on their own. “I’ll go check on her.”

“Westley!” Elena pouted, her tone full of grievance. “I was the one who was scared just now…”

But her words did nothing to stop him. He disappeared around the corner without looking back.

Elena’s gaze darkened. Picking up a throw pillow, she hurled it to the floor in frustration.