A City. High-Speed Rail Station.

A young woman in a plain white T-shirt and jeans walked out with a suitcase in hand.

She had a fresh, delicate kind of beauty. Her softly curled hair fell loose behind her, and under those neat willow-shaped brows was a pair of bright, clear peach-blossom eyes. High nose bridge, cherry-red lips. Even with no makeup on, her face still made people do a double take.

"Hello, you must be Miss Voss, right? I'm the Whitfield family's driver."

Elara Voss gave a small nod. She followed him into the car without much expression, looking tired from head to toe.

Once the car pulled away from the station, the driver couldn't help glancing at the woman in the back through the rearview mirror. Her eyes were closed, her head slightly tilted, like she couldn't even be bothered to speak.

So this was Mr. Whitfield's fiancée.

Who was Dominic Whitfield?

President of the Whitfield Group. Only twenty-one, but ruthless, sharp, and crazy capable. In the business world, his name alone was enough to make people nervous.

And the funniest part? Years ago, The Old Whitfield had actually arranged a marriage for him.

And the girl he picked was this Elara Voss, someone with no real background, someone who had just come in from the countryside by high-speed rail?

The driver clicked his tongue inwardly as he looked at her innocent face.

A Cinderella dream of marrying into a rich family? Yeah... easier said than done.

At that moment, Elara slowly opened her eyes.

She looked out at the unfamiliar city beyond the window, her face calm, unreadable, like none of this could stir even a ripple in her.

The car soon pulled up at the Whitfield residence. The driver got out and carried her luggage for her.

But the moment they stepped through the door, they were stopped.

A richly dressed woman was standing at the entrance. She swept a dismissive glance over Elara from top to bottom, the kind of look that practically screamed contempt.

"Li Ma."

"Yes, ma'am."

Li Ma came over at once, holding a bottle of disinfectant spray, and without a word started spraying Elara all over.

Mrs. Whitfield stood to the side and added coldly, "Her shoes too. And her hair. Don't miss anywhere."

A harsh chemical smell hit her in the face.

Elara raised a hand to block it, then said in a cool, sharp voice, "Are you out of your mind?"

The second those words came out, Mrs. Whitfield's expression darkened on the spot.

"As expected from someone from the countryside. No manners at all. We're doing this because who knows what germs or viruses you might be carrying? If you bring something into the Whitfield house and infect my family, who's taking responsibility?"

Under normal circumstances, Elara Voss would’ve turned around and left on the spot. But right now, she had no choice.

"Then maybe you should spray some disinfectant on your mouth too, Auntie. The smell is kind of lethal."

After tossing out that line, Elara didn’t wait for a reaction. She just lifted her chin and walked straight inside.

"You..." Mrs. Whitfield was so mad her hand shook as she pointed at Elara’s back. Ms. Vonberg hurried over and tried to calm her down.

There was another young woman in the living room, about Elara’s age. She was decked out head to toe in luxury labels, and the way she looked at Elara was full of pure disdain.

"So you’re my cousin’s fiancée, Elara Voss?" Vivienne Whitfield sized up Elara’s plain, unbranded clothes, the contempt on her face not even remotely hidden. Then she curled her lip and kept going. "Wow. Grandpa really is getting old. His taste seriously fell off. I heard you came here by train. You should’ve said so earlier. The Whitfields could’ve bought you a plane ticket. But then again... I guess there’s probably not even an airport where you come from, right?"

Elara looked at Vivienne like she was looking at an idiot.

Were all the people in this family this full of themselves?

Sure, her hometown didn’t have an airport. So what? The old man had booked out an entire high-speed rail carriage to A City just for her. Nobody else got to experience sitting alone through a whole trip like that.

And if she’d wanted to, Mr. Voss could’ve had a private jet fly her over directly.

Elara couldn’t be bothered explaining any of that to them. Total waste of breath. She just turned and headed upstairs.

The second Vivienne realized she’d been ignored, her face went dark. She immediately followed after her in stiff, angry steps.

"Which room is mine?" Elara asked the servant behind her.

Before the servant could answer, Vivienne stepped forward first. "This one."

She pushed open the door and said in a smug voice, "Bet you’ve never stayed in a room this huge or this nice before, huh? You better cherish your life in the Whitfield house. I’m Dominic Whitfield’s cousin, Vivienne Whitfield. You should really learn to stay on my good side, got it? One day—"

Before she could finish, Elara walked in and shut the door right in her face.

Bang.

The sound hit like a slap, and Vivienne’s expression got even uglier.

"Ah! How is some girl from the countryside this arrogant?" she snapped, practically exploding. "What kind of taste does Grandpa even have?"

The servant lowered her head and said quietly, "Miss... this is Mr. Dominic’s room."

Vivienne shot the door a cold, dismissive glance.

"Keep your mouth shut. My cousin hates people touching his stuff the most. When the time comes, we’ll just say she insisted on staying here herself."

As she spoke, a sly gleam flashed across Vivienne’s eyes.