Thunder cracked across the sky, lightning tearing through the night while rain came down like it wanted to drown the whole world.

Bonnie Hartwell sat right in front of her, graceful and polished, every bit the rich young lady. But the look she gave Gertrude Hartwell was pure disgust, cold enough to freeze blood.

"Gertrude Hartwell, look at that. You finally ended up in my hands."

Gertrude lay sprawled on the floor, barely breathing. Her body shook nonstop, weak and broken, like she could fall apart any second.

When she was eighteen, after growing up in the countryside, she had been taken back to the imperial capital.

Back then, she really thought Gregory Hartwell had changed his mind. She thought he felt guilty, that he wanted to make up for all those years of abandonment and indifference. But no. He and Bonnie had their own agenda from the start. They stole the property her mother had left her, kicked her out of the house, and step by step shoved her straight into hell.

For four whole years, she clawed her way through the very bottom of society, living like dirt, struggling just to stay alive. Even then, she still couldn't escape the Hartwell family's hunt.

Now she had nothing left. Nothing at all.

She was even about to lose her life.

"Gertrude Hartwell, do you know how your mom died?" Bonnie's lips curled, her voice dripping with malice. "Poisoned. That's how. She had it coming."

Gertrude jerked her head up. Her eyes were bloodshot, red like they were bleeding.

"You did that?"

"Yeah, we did." Bonnie answered without even trying to hide it, as if she were talking about the weather. "If your mother hadn't had a little money, how could she ever have married into the Hartwell family? Her death was perfect. And honestly, you should've died a long time ago too."

Bonnie rose to her feet and looked down at Gertrude from above, all superiority and contempt, like Gertrude was nothing more than trash under her shoe.

Years ago, the Hartwell family had almost gone bankrupt. If Clara Ashford hadn't entered the marriage with a massive dowry, the family would've collapsed long ago. It was her money that dragged them back from the edge.

But Gregory Hartwell had used Clara Ashford from the very beginning.

After getting what he wanted, he plotted against her, forced her out of the Hartwell family, then brought his new lover home like nothing had happened.

At the time, Clara Ashford was already pregnant.

The child in her belly was Gertrude.

After being thrown out of the Hartwell family, Clara Ashford had been too ashamed to return to her parents' home. So she took Gertrude with her to a remote little village. Not long after giving birth, she fell gravely ill and died.

So it wasn't illness after all.

It was poison.

The Hartwell family did it.

They were the reason for everything.

All these years of suffering, all the pain, all the misery crushing her life bit by bit—

it had all started with the Hartwell family.

Gertrude Hartwell felt like she’d been dropped straight into an ice cellar. All these years, she had kept asking herself the same thing over and over—what had she done wrong? Why was her own father so cruel to her? Why had everyone taken turns trampling her like she was nothing?

Only now did she finally get it.

In Gregory Hartwell’s eyes, she had never been his daughter. Not once.

“Gertrude Hartwell, you should be thanking me. If it weren’t for me, you wouldn’t even have lived this long. I’ve had plenty of chances over the years to finish you off. Know why I never did?”

Bonnie Hartwell kept talking, her voice sharp and ugly.

“Because I wanted to watch you crawl at my feet and barely survive. I wanted to see you live like a stray dog!”

Seeing Gertrude’s pale, drained face only made Bonnie angrier.

“Do you know why I’ve always gone after you, Gertrude Hartwell? Because I can’t stand you. You’re nothing but a pretty face, so why did you get Mr. Blackwood’s attention?”

Gertrude let out a broken sob. “So all these years... this is why you targeted me?”

“Of course. I’ve liked Mr. Blackwood for more than ten years. What gives you the right to steal what was supposed to be mine?”

The second Mr. Blackwood was mentioned, Bonnie practically exploded. She stared at Gertrude’s face, fury twisting her features, like she wanted to rip her apart piece by piece.

Gertrude, collapsed on the floor, suddenly let out a low string of laughs.

She and the so-called Mr. Blackwood Bonnie kept talking about had never even exchanged a word. They had only met once.

Steal him?

What a joke.

Seeing her lying there, half-dead, Bonnie felt more and more smug.