"Miss Whitmore, everything you asked me to handle earlier has now been fully put in place."

"The asset isolation and preservation, the confirmation of ownership for your personal pharmaceutical patents, and the accounting statement covering the Whitmore family's years of unpaid use of your formulas and technology—all of it now carries full legal force."

"Now that you've completed your sentence and been released today, you may immediately take back every right that belongs to you."

The lawyer stood slightly bent before the table, respectful and precise, every word crisp and steady.

Elena Whitmore lifted her eyes. Her gaze was cool, flat, with none of the ease a person should have after walking out of prison. What remained was only bone-deep clarity.

"Send all of it to Whitmore Pharmaceuticals headquarters as well. Publicly confirm ownership of every medical patent and start the recovery process."

"From this day on, I, Elena Whitmore, have nothing more to do with the Whitmore family."

"Understood. I'll carry it out right away."

The lawyer said nothing else. He quickly gathered the neat stack of legal documents, bowed again, and withdrew.

Only after his figure disappeared did the prison reception room, empty and silent, slowly reveal the bleak chill of late autumn.

Outside the window, the wind swept dead leaves across the ground. A cold draft scraped past the high walls and iron fencing.

Elena lightly lifted her fingers and brushed the cool tabletop. A thin layer of frost-like haze settled in her eyes.

For three years in prison, everyone cursed her as ungrateful, reckless, the one who ruined the Whitmore family's reputation.

But only she knew the truth.

From beginning to end, this whole farce had been a trap carefully arranged by the Whitmore family.

It was clearly Bianca Whitmore whose mistake had caused the major medical accident. It was the entire Whitmore family working together, pressuring Elena into taking the blame and pleading guilty.

In her previous life, she only learned the truth when she was dying miserably in prison: from the moment she was born, she had been branded a cursed child. Hugh Whitmore and his wife had listened to some fortune-teller's nonsense and despised her for it.

They even believed that man's poisonous words and deliberately brought home Bianca Whitmore, whose fate was supposedly blessed, pouring all their favor and resources onto her.

They had lied to Elena too, saying Bianca had been switched at birth, making her feel guilty toward Bianca for years, forcing herself to give in again and again.

Back then, she had been stupidly obedient and too softhearted. Out of gratitude for eighteen years of being raised, she secretly supplied all the exclusive formulas and self-developed medicines she created through Kingsford Pharmacy to the Whitmore family.

She poured out all her blood and sweat, and by sheer force kept Whitmore Pharmaceuticals from collapsing.

And what did she get in return?

Three years in a hellish prison. Endless humiliation and abuse behind bars. And in the end, a bitter death inside a cage.

At the very edge of death, she saw Bianca Whitmore steal the ultimate detox formula Elena had developed.

With that secret prescription, Bianca climbed into the powerful Ashford family of Kingsford's highest circle. She saved Julian Ashford, the man at the helm of the family, who had been unconscious for months, then stepped over Elena's corpse and married into wealth, enjoying endless glory alone.

And now, heaven had shown her mercy.

It had given her one more life, and brought her back to this exact day—the day she walked out after serving her sentence.

In this life, she would cut off every last trace of foolish filial piety and every weakness she had.

Whatever debt she owed the Whitmore family for raising her had already been repaid in full—with three years in prison and half a lifetime of hard work.

From now on, anyone who owed her, anyone who stole from her—she would take it all back, one piece at a time.

Her thoughts had just settled when hurried footsteps came from outside the door.

Phoebe Aldridge rushed in, eyes red, her voice thick with tears she was trying hard not to let spill. "Boss! You're finally out! I've been waiting forever for this day! For the past three years, I've guarded Kingsford Pharmacy and didn't dare slack off for even a second. I was just waiting for the day you got out!"

Phoebe was someone Elena had trained herself, the one who handled all the pharmacy's affairs on her behalf.

She was also one of the very few people in this world who had truly treated Elena well and never left her side.

For three whole years, she had silently helped her guard everything she owned—and all the anger and hope Elena had buried deep inside.

The string in Elena's heart, taut for three years straight, finally loosened a little. She said softly, "You've worked hard."

"I haven't worked hard at all!"

Phoebe shook her head hard, fury surging in her eyes.

"The Whitmore family is seriously shameless! They used your formulas and your medicinal resources to get on their feet, and then turned around and stabbed you in the back and sent you to prison! Boss, what do we do next?"

Elena's gaze turned icy, sharp enough to cut. There wasn't the slightest room for compromise in her voice.

"Starting now, cut off all medicinal supply from Kingsford Pharmacy to Whitmore Pharmaceuticals. Take back every exclusive formula authorization and terminate all cooperation."

"Got it! I'll handle it right away!"

Phoebe immediately pulled out her phone and moved fast to arrange everything, showing zero mercy.

Just then, at the far end of the empty road outside the prison, a top-tier Bentley—entirely black, understated yet unmistakably elite—came speeding in. It carried an obvious sense of urgency as it braked sharply to a stop at the entrance.

The car door opened at once. The personal driver bowed his head slightly, so respectful it was almost absolute, and got straight to the point.

"Miss Whitmore, you are requested at the residence. Please get in at once and return with us."

Phoebe froze on the spot, her face full of confusion.

A flicker moved through Elena's eyes. She already understood.

The Ashford family.

The message she had sent out from prison had worked.

Julian Ashford, the eldest young master of the Ashford family, had been struck by a bizarre poison and lay unconscious, on the brink of death. The Ashford family had searched across the world for famous doctors and found nothing. At last, they could no longer wait and had personally sent someone to bring her over.

She didn't ask a single question. She simply stepped forward and said lightly, "Let's go."

The car door shut. The luxury engine gave a low hum, and in the blink of an eye the vehicle shot away, leaving only dust behind.

At almost the exact moment Elena closed the door, the Whitmore family's car came rushing up to the prison gate.

Marcus Whitmore pushed the door open and got out, impatience written all over his face.

He had come under his parents' orders to pick up this "burden" fresh out of prison, planning to give her a good warning and force her to keep serving the family.

But when he looked up, all he managed to catch was the fading tail shadow of that top-tier luxury car speeding away—

and Elena Whitmore's cold, decisive back.

Marcus Whitmore's steps stopped dead. His face filled with shock, and suspicion churned wildly in his chest.

He knew that car's style and aura all too well. It was the exclusive vehicle of the Ashford family, one of Kingsford's true top-tier powers.

How could Elena Whitmore—a woman who had just gotten out of prison and still carried a ruined name—have been picked up by the Ashford family, in person, with a car like that?

Marcus Whitmore's brows slammed together. His face turned dark as he yanked out his phone and called home.

"Dad, Mom, something's happened! I just saw Elena Whitmore get out of prison and go straight into a car from the Ashford family!"