Chapter 2
"No, it's not me. That earring isn't mine. It belongs to that bitch Emily. It's hers."
As Charlotte pointed her trembling finger in my direction, the crowd turned their eyes on me in unison.
William's heavy steps echoed as he walked toward me.
His gaze was as cold and venomous as a snake lurking in the dark.
He raised the blood-stained earring in front of my face. "Is this yours?"
Under the probing and disdainful stares around me, I calmly took a small step back and shook my head with a sweet smile. "No, it's not."
Charlotte suddenly lunged at me like a madwoman. "You liar, it's yours. Why won't you admit it? You're the filthy slut."
She spun back toward William, her face pleading. "William, it's really not me. You have to believe me."
A few people chimed in to defend her.
"Yeah, William, how could it be Miss Banks? She doesn't have any grudge against you. There's no reason for her to do something like that," someone said.
Charlotte nodded frantically.
But I only tilted my head, feigning innocence. "Didn't Charlotte say before how much she hated William? Because he used his family name to make her father apologize?"
My words exploded like a bomb, shocking everyone present.
Most of them were doubtful, but only Charlotte and William knew the truth.
Charlotte had never said anything like that out loud.
But I had seen it.
The man everyone praised as a gentleman, Samuel Banks, was the very beast who had toyed with my mother until she died.
William hadn't intended to kill her. But Samuel, seeing how weak she was, continued tormenting her on the yacht until her final breath.
In the end, she died there. The party had been held under William's name, and in his fury, William demanded that Samuel apologize to him.
Both Charlotte and William stiffened at my words.
But with so many people watching, and with the matter tied to the yacht party, William couldn't lash out openly. He shot Charlotte a sharp glare before turning to leave.
Charlotte panicked. She grabbed her bag and tried to sneak out.
Before going, she deliberately bumped into me, hissing through clenched teeth, "You bitch, how dare you set me up?"
I smiled faintly and leaned close enough for only the two of us to hear. "No, Charlotte. From beginning to end, it was all your choice."
On someone else's turf, she couldn't do anything to me. Furious, she stormed off.
"I'm going to find my father. Emily, you're dead," she snapped.
I shrugged, unbothered, and strolled toward the bathroom, where I happened to run into William.
His eyes flickered with something unreadable when he saw me. William had always been ruthless; he slapped me the moment he got close.
Then he grabbed my hair, forcing me to meet his gaze. "No matter whose earring it is, crossing me means you've hit a wall you can't break."
I broke into sobs, the perfect picture of fragile beauty.
I had always known how to use this pretty face to get what I wanted.
Sure enough, William's eyes wavered. He let go of me.
The birthday party ended on a sour note. Ironically, I was the happiest person there.
William slapped me, but I didn't care.
I would return the favor, sooner or later.
Instead of going back to the Banks Manor afterward, I checked into a hotel.
Turning on the TV, I caught the news.
On her way home, Charlotte had been in a car accident.
When I entered the hospital room, Samuel was weeping like a broken man.
I stood off to the side, unable to understand why he cried so bitterly.
Charlotte was only in a vegetative state. She wasn't dead.
But my beloved mother had been tortured to death.
As a daughter, my pain cut deeper than anyone else's.
When Samuel tormented my mother, did he ever imagine payback would come?
I looked at the pale-faced girl on the hospital bed and couldn't help but find it a little funny. She might as well have been dead.
Charlotte didn't even get the chance to complain to her beloved father.
Her doting dad was still in the dark, convinced I was a good, obedient child.
"Emily, how could this accident happen? Why my daughter?" Samuel cried in grief.
My gaze slid between him and Charlotte; I gave a small nod. "I'm sorry for that," I answered.
Charlotte's accident had nothing to do with me. While everyone else was drowning in sorrow, I went to school in high spirits.
After all, the beasts I planned to take down weren't limited to just Charlotte.
Charlotte was a notorious bully, but she wasn't the only monster in the school.
Bullies clustered together—small cliques of predators.
Jane, who'd sat next to me and jumped off the building, had been so sweet. She'd been tormented by Charlotte's girl gang and bullied by a boys' clique led by William.
No one should suffer such inhuman treatment.
So, I came back.
I would avenge my mother and repay every debt of hatred.
I would make those animals pay.
Just as I expected, on my first day back at school, William and his cronies cornered me in the restroom.
They yanked my hair and dragged me toward the boys' room.
Dirty basins of water were dumped over my head again and again until I nearly suffocated.
"Aren't you the campus belle? Sure is a pretty face." Two or three men closed in on me.
I bent on the corner and played the pitiful act to the hilt.
William leaned against the restroom doorway, smoking with one hand, enjoying the spectacle.
A leering man beside him held a camera. "William, this girl's got a nice face and an amazing body. If we post the video, it'll blow up."
William sneered and watched as the others groped me.
At that moment, I grabbed the mop from the floor and swung it hard at the nearest man's face.
The mop was filthy and reeked; suddenly, no one wanted to get close.
Their expressions shifted from smug to disgusted.
Only William kept smiling, watching me like a rabbit trapped in a palm.
I dropped the mop and stepped forward. Before anyone could react, I grabbed William's collar and kissed him hard.
William hadn't expected that. For a second, his eyes went wide, and the veins in his relaxed fist stood out.
No one had ever seen him so stunned.
The composed, elegant strategist vanished in an instant. He shoved me away and kept wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
I tilted my head and smiled at him. "Do you like it?" I asked.
William's hatred roared; he grabbed my collar and raised his fist. "I'm going to kill you," he snarled.
Just as his fist came down, I closed my eyes.
William's grip was too tight on the loose side of my clothing, and as he pulled, my shoulder slipped out of the strap.
In that instant, the scar on my shoulder was exposed.
As I'd predicted, William didn't land the punch.
He froze like a machine with its power cut off; his motion stalled midair.
Following his gaze, everyone saw the scar on my shoulder.
William was stunned. "That scar—"