Chapter 3 · Revenge of the Wronged Heiress

"That was then, this is now." These words stabbed into my heart like knives.

I looked at the man in front of me. Ten years had passed, and he'd shed his boyishness, becoming more mature and striking—but also colder, more ruthless.

"So, in your eyes, ten years together is just something from the past, something you can throw away whenever you feel like it, right?" My voice was shaky.

James's eyes showed a hint of irritation. "Charlotte, do you really have to push me like this? Look at yourself now, then look at Emily. Do you honestly think we could ever work out?"

On hearing his words, I glanced down at my own reflection.

Cheap, faded clothes hung off me, my canvas shoes had holes in them, my hair was dry and lifeless, and my face looked ghostly pale.

Meanwhile, Emily stood behind him in a custom-made gown, her makeup perfect, like a pampered rose from a greenhouse.

Yeah, who am I kidding? An ex-con just out of prison could never be good enough for someone like James Goodwin,' I thought bitterly.

"James, please don't be so harsh on Charlotte..." Emily tugged at James's sleeve, her voice thick with tears. "She just got out of prison. She's feeling really down. We should be understanding toward her."

Then she turned to me and said, "Charlotte, I'm sorry, it's all on me. If you're upset, take it out on me, not James." Her delicate, vulnerable act made everyone instinctively want to shield her.

"How did Miss Sutton end up like this? Honestly, it's just sad."

"Sad? Come on. I heard she ran someone over and spent ten years in prison. Now she's out, sees her sister with her fiancé, and can't stand it, so she's here making a scene."

"Jeez, that's cold. She screwed up, and now she wants to wreck her sister's happiness too."

The gossip buzzed around me like a swarm of flies.

My mother, Grace Sutton, finally snapped. She stormed over and raised her hand, ready to slap me.

I didn't dodge. During those ten years, I'd endured far worse than this. But the slap never came. A large hand with distinct knuckles firmly grabbed Grace's wrist.

"Mrs. Sutton, hitting your own daughter in front of all these people—isn't that a little inappropriate?" A cold, deep male voice rang out in the noisy hall.

I lifted my head, my gaze tracing up the hand that had stopped my mother.

It was a stranger. He stood tall in a perfectly tailored black suit, so handsome it was almost unreal.

His alluring eyes, with their slightly upturned corners, gave him a casual, lazy air—but beneath that, there was a sharpness, like he could see right through everyone in the room.

All eyes in the room instantly shifted from me to him.

"Who are you? Let go of me!" Grace struggled, but his grip was like iron—she couldn't budge him at all.

He ignored her, his gaze landing on me instead. He gave me a slow once-over, then his lips curled into a knowing, almost teasing smile. "Ms. Sutton, it's been a while," he said.

I was stunned. I was positive I'd never seen him before.

Chapter 3

"That was then, this is now." These words stabbed into my heart like knives.

I looked at the man in front of me. Ten years had passed, and he'd shed his boyishness, becoming more mature and striking—but also colder, more ruthless.

"So, in your eyes, ten years together is just something from the past, something you can throw away whenever you feel like it, right?" My voice was shaky.

James's eyes showed a hint of irritation. "Charlotte, do you really have to push me like this? Look at yourself now, then look at Emily. Do you honestly think we could ever work out?"

On hearing his words, I glanced down at my own reflection.

Cheap, faded clothes hung off me, my canvas shoes had holes in them, my hair was dry and lifeless, and my face looked ghostly pale.

Meanwhile, Emily stood behind him in a custom-made gown, her makeup perfect, like a pampered rose from a greenhouse.

Yeah, who am I kidding? An ex-con just out of prison could never be good enough for someone like James Goodwin,' I thought bitterly.

Then she turned to me and said, "Charlotte, I'm sorry, it's all on me. If you're upset, take it out on me, not James." Her delicate, vulnerable act made everyone instinctively want to shield her.

"How did Miss Sutton end up like this? Honestly, it's just sad."

"Sad? Come on. I heard she ran someone over and spent ten years in prison. Now she's out, sees her sister with her fiancé, and can't stand it, so she's here making a scene."

"Jeez, that's cold. She screwed up, and now she wants to wreck her sister's happiness too."

The gossip buzzed around me like a swarm of flies.

My mother, Grace Sutton, finally snapped. She stormed over and raised her hand, ready to slap me.

I didn't dodge. During those ten years, I'd endured far worse than this. But the slap never came. A large hand with distinct knuckles firmly grabbed Grace's wrist.

"Mrs. Sutton, hitting your own daughter in front of all these people—isn't that a little inappropriate?" A cold, deep male voice rang out in the noisy hall.

I lifted my head, my gaze tracing up the hand that had stopped my mother.

It was a stranger. He stood tall in a perfectly tailored black suit, so handsome it was almost unreal.

His alluring eyes, with their slightly upturned corners, gave him a casual, lazy air—but beneath that, there was a sharpness, like he could see right through everyone in the room.

All eyes in the room instantly shifted from me to him.

"Who are you? Let go of me!" Grace struggled, but his grip was like iron—she couldn't budge him at all.

He ignored her, his gaze landing on me instead. He gave me a slow once-over, then his lips curled into a knowing, almost teasing smile. "Ms. Sutton, it's been a while," he said.

I was stunned. I was positive I'd never seen him before.