Three years ago, in his ruthless quest to become the Aldridge heir, he used corporate espionage to destroy his competitor.
And like every man with power, he already had a scapegoat in mind.
That night, he texted me. My stomach hurts.
Worried, I hurried to the estate with warm soup in hand.
But the moment I stepped inside, the lights went out, and a pair of hands shoved me hard to the ground.
“So it’s you! What are you doing here in the middle of the night?!”
When the lights flickered back on, the room was packed with police, prosecutors, company executives, and Jaxon. He stood across from me, his expression cold and void of anything human.
“It was her. She stole our company’s secrets.”
A policeman stepped forward. “Liora Whitmore, we have concrete evidence. Do you confess?”
This was my 98th deed, only two steps away from the end.
I smiled and answered clearly, “I confess.”
I was sentenced to three years. No one came. Not a single visit. The guards and staff treated me like trash, like something rotting behind bars.
“They say she’s the reason the Aldridge family lost millions.”
“She even dragged Jaxon’s name through the mud. Disgusting woman.”
To the world, I was nothing but a criminal. I walked out bitterly, no one waiting, no taxi in sight. So I walked, legs trembling, dragging my weary soul toward the Aldridge estate.
After a long journey, I arrived. The entrance was covered in white roses. A red carpet stretched down the path like something out of a dream.
Luxury cars gleamed under the sun.
A grand banner fluttered in the wind: [Welcome back, Miss!]
For a brief, foolish second, I thought it was for me.
But then a voice, cold as frost, cut through the illusion.
“Liora, did you forget your place? These flowers aren’t for your filthy hands.”
Jaxon stood behind me, distant, untouchable.
And just then, a delicate girl ran into his arms.
Clad in an elegant gown, it was Arabelle. The heroine of this story. Jaxon’s so-called first love.
She had left him for a wealthier man. But the moment he rose to power, she came back.
So, this whole event wasn’t for me; it was for her return.
Inside the estate, I instantly felt how wrong I looked, wrapped in tattered prison clothes that didn’t belong in a world of luxury.
Hunger gnawed at me; I hadn’t had a proper meal in years.
I reached for a slice of cake, but someone smacked it out of my hand and crushed it beneath their heel.