June 10, 2017.
Southside Women's Prison.
"Stay out of trouble."
"Don’t worry. You’ll never see me again."
The weather was decent today. Sharon Dennis clutched her small bag and walked straight out without looking back. This prison had held her youth and her naivety. An eighteen-year-old girl locked up for murder—wasn’t that the biggest stain on a person’s life? And the victim? Sharon's own father. Her fellow inmates would say, "No matter how many mistakes you’ve made, you never lay a hand on your parents." So those self-righteous murderers took it upon themselves to judge Sharon from their moral high ground, treating Sharon like a living toy, finding new ways to torment her every day.
Sharon woke up to curses and beatings, and she fell asleep the same way.
Sharon didn’t know how she survived. But every time the blows nearly knocked her unconscious, the faces of *those two* would flash before her eyes. *Three years—that’s nothing. I can’t die.* Why should the real murderers get to bask in everyone’s blessings? If the law wouldn’t punish them, she’d do it herself.
The walk from Southside Prison to downtown was a solid fifteen kilometers. By the time Sharon reached the city center, it was already noon.
City A was the most prosperous in the country, but compared to three years ago, it now carried a different kind of weight—the kind that came with the fickleness of human nature.
Right now, the mall’s billboard had switched from regular ads to a wedding photo of a newlywed couple. Passersby stopped out of curiosity, staring up at the happy pair.
Sharon’s fists clenched. A cold fury flickered in her bright eyes.
In bold red letters, the billboard read: *Congratulations! The Felix Family’s Heiress and the Thomas Family’s Young Master Tie the Knot!*
"A perfect match, made in heaven," Sharon muttered, her lips curling into a sneer.
One was Sharon's boyfriend. The other, Sharon's own sister. Could anything be more twisted? Too bad their blissful smiles were about to be cut short.
*Kevin Group.*
"Miss, who are you here to see?" The receptionist smiled politely, though her eyes betrayed subtle disdain. Their company was the largest in City A, and they'd never had such a shabbily dressed visitor before.
"I'm here to see George Kevin," Sharon replied flatly, ignoring the receptionist's impolite gaze as she uttered the man's name.
"The CEO is usually very busy. Do you have an appointment?"
"My name is Sharon Dennis."
The receptionist froze. *This* was Sharon? The CEO had issued instructions a month ago—sometime within the next thirty days, a woman by that name would come looking for him. When she did, they were to treat her with utmost courtesy and, more importantly, give her a complete makeover.
And by "makeover," he meant head-to-toe transformation. The CEO had stocked the company dressing room with every limited-edition designer outfit, shoe, and accessory in the world—all for a woman named Sharon. Suddenly, it made sense. No wonder she needed a makeover—she looked like she'd just walked out of prison.
The receptionist hurried over, suddenly obsequious. Sharon frowned in confusion. Was this some kind of TV drama? The girl had gone from haughty to fawning in under a minute.
"Miss, please follow me."
She led Sharon to a dressing room on the second floor and reached for the door. "Why are we here?" Sharon asked warily.
"W-well, it's the CEO's orders. I'll explain in detail later," the receptionist stammered, pushing the door open.
What greeted them wasn’t just a dressing room—it was a walk-in closet fit for a billionaire. Sharon leaned against the doorframe, her lips twisting into a bitter smirk. *Is George afraid my bad luck will contaminate him?*
Though the receptionist seemed like little more than a pretty face, she had an eye for fashion that surpassed most. From hairstyling to earrings, from dresses to heels, she coordinated every detail by color and design with meticulous precision.
Sharon had never cared about such things before. But since she was here, she might as well go along with it.
"Miss Dennis," the receptionist said with a flourish, wheeling a full-length mirror in front of her, "prepare to witness a miracle."
For a brief moment, Sharon barely recognized the woman staring back at her in the reflection.
--*******--