Chapter 3

I stared at the bank statements, my breathing growing ragged. The sudden movement pulled at my stitched chest, sending a vicious spike of pain through my torso.

Swallowing the agony, I snapped the folder shut.

"Get a car ready. I am heading back to the estate," I commanded.

Leon frowned, eyeing me with clear disapproval. "Are you insane? Your body is in no condition to be moved," he argued.

"I am going back," I repeated with absolute certainty. "I am going to look him in the eye and watch him choke on every single thing he stole from me."

Leon studied my face for a long moment before finally yielding. "As you wish."

Seated in a high-end wheelchair, I was rolled into the grand foyer of my family estate by one of Leon's men. The heavy iron gates had parted silently, revealing the sound of cheerful laughter echoing from the main living room.

I raised a hand, signaling my guard to stop in the entryway.

Arthur was lounging comfortably on my imported leather sofa, swirling a glass of vintage Bordeaux. Anna was pressed tightly against his side, cradling my favorite Persian cat in her lap.

My eyes locked onto the dress she was wearing. It was a vintage, burgundy velvet gown, the very last thing my late mother had left me.

It was a custom masterpiece with no duplicate in the world.

I had always been too terrified to even wear it, keeping it preserved meticulously in a climate-controlled vault. Now, it was draped over the body of a cheap secretary.

"Arthur, this dress is absolutely stunning," Anna sighed, stroking the rich fabric with an intoxicated look on her face.

Arthur smiled indulgently and tapped her nose playfully. "As long as you love it. Serena has closets full of clothes, so she will not mind giving you one."

"But she has such a scary temper. What if she gets mad at me?" Anna asked.

"She would not dare," Arthur boasted with a scoff. "She is probably hiding out somewhere throwing a pity party right now. When she gets back, I will make her wrap it up and gift it to you herself."

I grabbed the wheels and slowly pushed myself into the living room. The rubber tires rolled over the polished marble floors with a faint, steady hum.

Hearing the noise, Arthur turned his head. His eyes widened slightly as he took in the sight of me confined to a wheelchair, wrapped heavily in medical bandages. However, he quickly masked his shock with a scowl of pure annoyance.

"What kind of game are you playing now? Renting a wheelchair to play the victim?" he accused, marching over to stand over me. "I told you to send a doctor for Anna. Did you ignore my words?"

I completely ignored his existence. My gaze remained rigidly fixed on Anna.

"Take it off," I ordered, my voice dropping to a freezing register.

Anna gasped and shrank back into the sofa, clutching the velvet skirts tightly. "Serena, I was trying it on. Arthur said I could," she stammered.

I raised my voice. "Take it off now."

The sudden exertion tore at my broken ribs, making me suck in a sharp breath of cold air.

Arthur instantly stepped in front of Anna, shielding her like a protective guard dog. "Serena, are you done being a psycho? It is a worthless dress. Do you really need to be this vicious?"

A worthless dress?

It was the only tangible memory I had left of my mother.

"Arthur, you have absolutely no right to touch my belongings," I warned, staring daggers into his eyes.

"I am your man, which makes your things my things," Arthur argued with shameless entitlement. "Anna is sick, and she needed something beautiful to lift her spirits.

"As someone sitting at the top of the food chain, do you seriously lack even an ounce of basic empathy?"

I couldn't help but laugh in disbelief, the anger boiling over.

"Empathy?" I repeated mockingly. "She is currently holding 20 million dollars of my money. She is living in a penthouse that I purchased. And now she is wearing my dead mother's gown.

"Arthur, you really make a fantastic watchdog, handing out your master's wealth to look like a hero."

Arthur's face turned a violent shade of purple. "What did you call me?" he hissed.

He lunged forward, grabbing the armrests of my wheelchair, and violently tipped it over. I crashed heavily onto the hard marble floor, taking the heavy chair down with me. The thick cast on my left leg smashed against the stone with a sickening thud.

My freshly stitched wounds ripped wide open in an instant. Vivid crimson blood quickly soaked through my pristine white bandages. The sheer agony nearly sent me into shock.

"Arthur, what are you doing?" Anna shrieked in fake horror, jogging over and pretending to hold him back.

Arthur stood perfectly still, looking down at my agonizing struggle without a single shred of remorse.

"You brought this on yourself for insulting me," he spat, adjusting his suit jacket. "Since you love pretending to be a cripple so much, you can sit on the floor and reflect on your attitude."

With that, he grabbed Anna's hand firmly. "Come on, let us leave this crazy bitch alone."

They strutted past me. The hem of my mother's velvet dress brushed lightly against my cheek. Anna deliberately slowed her pace, leaning down to whisper directly into my ear.

"He told me last night that you are not even worth a single strand of my hair," she murmured, ensuring only I could hear.