"Smack."
A loud, brutal slap landed hard across Clara Ashford’s face.
Blood seeped from the corner of her lips.
"I’m telling you, this is not your call. You’re marrying into the Mercer family whether you want to or not," Vincent Grayson roared, his voice crashing down like thunder.
Clara looked at the man in front of her—the man who called himself her father—as if she were staring at a total stranger. Then she let out a cold, mocking laugh.
"Based on what?"
"You really think the Mercers would ever choose you on their own? A country bumpkin like you? They only agreed because I begged and begged. I practically handed you this chance to marry into that family, and now you’re acting ungrateful?"
"Please, spare me the performance. Isn’t this really because Sophia Grayson was messing around with some random guy and the Mercers got dirt on her? You don’t want to refund the money, so now you want me to take her place and marry that half-dead man? Yeah, not happening."
Vincent Grayson’s face twisted with rage. "Fine. Don’t marry him. The Grayson family is already drowning as it is, so I’ll just sell the house your mother left behind and cut off Jasper Ashford’s treatment. Your choice."
"Can you get any more shameless? What did Jasper ever do to you? You’re actually using him to threaten me. He’s your son. Are you even human?" Clara’s eyes burned, anger and restraint tangling together under the surface.
This was no father.
This was a monster, plain and simple.
"If the Grayson family goes under, where do you think the money for Jasper’s treatment will come from? If you don’t want him staying a fool for the rest of his life, then you should know exactly what you need to do next."
Despicable.
Clara clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles cracked. Her nails dug deep into her palms, but she didn’t even flinch. She only shot her so-called father one dark, icy look.
The moment she walked out through the Grayson family gates, she dragged in a deep breath of fresh air.
One blow after another had been coming at her nonstop, crushing down on her chest until she could barely breathe.
"Wow, I could smell that gross dirt-from-the-countryside stink from way off. So that’s why—turns out there’s a bumpkin standing here."
The sneering voice came from a sports car parked by the roadside. Clara turned, eyes cold, and looked at the man and woman stepping out of the bright yellow car.
Sophia Grayson.
Her lovely little sister.
And the man beside her was Algernon Robinson, one of Magnum’s rich young heirs.
The two of them stopped right in front of Clara Ashford.
Sophia Grayson was smiling like she was watching a good show, the kind of smug, nasty smile that made people instantly uncomfortable. "I heard Dad wants you to marry into the Mercer family, and you’re still refusing?" She lifted her chin, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "He’s doing it for your own good, okay? Better than ending up on the streets, fighting stray dogs for scraps."
Ever since she was little, Sophia had been jealous of Clara.
Before her mother clawed her way into the Grayson family, Clara had been the treasured eldest daughter, spoiled, protected, the one everyone centered around. And Sophia? She had only been the dirty little secret no one could bring into the light.
Ten whole years.
For ten years, Sophia had lived with that bitterness lodged in her chest like a thorn, festering into hate, turning into something ugly and sharp.
But finally, heaven had opened its eyes.
Elaine Ashford was dead. Clara had been shipped off to the countryside. Gloria Grayson had taken her place. And Sophia had become the little princess of the Grayson family, the one everyone doted on.
Algernon Robinson’s gaze swept over the woman in front of him, bold and undisguised.
He had heard the rumors long ago. The Grayson family had a daughter hidden away in the countryside, supposedly tacky, ugly, fat, and too embarrassing to bring out in public.
But no matter how he looked at Clara, none of that matched.
Not even close.
The woman standing there was stunning enough to steal the air out of a room. Her figure was slim and graceful, the skin showing beneath her clothes so pale it almost seemed to glow. Even the smallest movement from her carried a quiet, dangerous kind of allure. One look was enough to make a man’s mind wander.
A greedy glint flashed through his eyes.
He didn’t even bother caring that Sophia was still beside him. He stepped forward and reached for Clara’s face. "Yeah, you do look pretty pitiful," he said with a lewd grin. "How about you come with me instead? You won’t have to sleep on the street, and I can make sure you lie nice and comfy in a big bed."
"Young Master Robinson—"
Sophia instantly latched onto his arm, displeasure written all over her face. She pressed her full chest lightly against him on purpose, but the look she threw at Clara was full of jealousy, almost venomous. "This woman is being sent to the Mercer family."
Algernon shoved her aside with clear impatience.
With real treasure standing right in front of him, who would still bother looking at cheap knockoffs?
His eyes stuck to Clara as he walked closer, desire naked on his face. "Ethan Mercer might drop dead any day now," he said with a filthy chuckle. "A beauty like this shouldn’t go to waste. Better let me enjoy that favor in his place."