Fortunately, everyone was wearing formal gowns, which were made of thick fabric with heavy layers. So, the fire went out quickly as they rolled across the floor.

By the time people at the banquet heard the screams and rushed over, all they saw was a group of girls thrashing on the ground, trying to smother the flames.

I didn't care. Everyone already knew I came from an orphanage, and after the whole kneeling and begging-for-money incident, my reputation couldn't get any lower. 

Rolling on the floor? Please. Even stripping naked in public wouldn't make things worse for me.

However, for the elegant, polished daughters of high society, it was humiliating. Watching them roll on the ground beside me was almost comical.

So, when people came running, their first instinct wasn't to help put out the fire. It was to record it.

By the time the flames were out, nearly three-quarters of the ban

I followed the voice and turned. Jack was pale as a sheet as he walked over.

Cecilia threw herself at him like she had found her anchor. "Jack!"

However, the moment she touched him, he stiffened. His expression wasn't the usual gentle one.

But Cecilia was too wrapped up in her own misery to notice. She kept wailing about how Mom was biased and wouldn't believe her. "Jack, does Mom not like me anymore? What am I supposed to do? Everything changed ever since Yelena came back."

She was beautiful and an expert at playing the victim. When she cried like that, people always softened.

In the past, Jack would have soothed her. This time, he shoved her off, pulled out his phone, and said, "I can prove Yelena started the fire. I've got the video."

He showed the clip to the other parents. Even though my movements were quick, the footage clearly caught the whole thing. My parents went pale. 



My parents, faces ashen, escorted me back to the Turner estate.

Mom cleaned the wound on my forehead while Dad called Jack over and kicked him, ordering him to apologize.

Jack refused. "Why should I apologize?"

Dad's patience snapped. "Look at what you've done to Yelena. Don't you think you should apologize?"

Jack grabbed Cecilia's arm. "She hurt Cecilia in the car. I was right to hit her!"

Even Dad, who had raised Cecilia for years, was stunned when he saw the mark. 

Mom, however, fixed Cecilia with a hard look and said, "She was next to me in the car. When exactly did Yelena hurt you?"

Cecilia went pale and stammered, finally admitting it happened when they got out of the car.

Mom's eyes sharpened. "Fine. We'll pull the surveillance footage. You know I don't like liars."

Hearing that, Cecilia's face drained completely. After a long beat, she confessed, "Mom, I'm sorry. I hurt myself, and it had nothing to do with Yelena. I was afraid you'd favor your biological daughter over me."

Mom frowned. "Cecilia, I'm so disappointed. Go to the study room. Don't come out until I say so!"

Jack shot to his feet. "Mom, what are you doing? Cecilia already said it was an accident. She did it because she felt insecure. You can't abandon her now that you have a biological daughter, can you?"

Then, he turned to me with contempt. "Shouldn't Cecilia be afraid? This bitch records and begs. She's not normal."

"Enough, Jack!" Mom's slap landed on him before he could finish. "You don't know what Yelena went through. You have no right to call her abnormal."

Her words stunned me. I touched the scars on my skin. They knew my past.

I had been abducted at three. The traffickers didn't sell me off, but instead forced me to steal with other children. 

There were quotas. If we failed, we would get beaten. We weren't allowed to cry, either. If we did, they would shove blades in our mouths.

We slept in cages and survived on spoiled rice. Disobedient kids were crippled, so they fetched higher prices.

When the traffickers were arrested, I went to an orphanage. 

Somehow, people found out I had been a thief. The other children started to shun me. The little ones ignored me, while the older ones beat me.

I complained to the teachers, but they only shrugged. "Why do they beat you and not others?"

That moment of helplessness taught me something—the teachers wouldn't protect me or care about the others' actions. I was an honest person. I could only fight back when I was bullied.

So, I bought a recorder. After every beating, I exacted revenge with harsher tactics.

In the end, the matter closed with Cecilia standing in the study all night. Of course, Jack kept her company.

From then on, Jack's contempt toward me only grew, and Cecilia avoided me.

News about me jumping into the fountain and my begging for bus fare spread quickly. My parents' neighborhood group chat, as well as Jack and Cecilia's school chat, were all abuzz about it.

My parents held a welcome banquet and invited many guests to show acceptance while drowning out the rumors. 

They dressed me up like a fairy-tale princess and paraded me around. "This is our biological daughter, Yelena. She's obedient and sensible."

After a while, I saw Cecilia walking over. Even though she hadn't made a scene outwardly, she had been doing small dirty tricks behind my back, like hiding bugs in my bed, staging pitiful scenes with the house staff so they would shun me.

Those stunts were petty compared to what I had endured at the orphanage, so I had decided not to make a fuss as long as the matters were small.

That day, though, Mom's and Dad's warmth seemed to set her off. Cecilia said she wanted to introduce me to some friends. I hesitated but went along. 

When I arrived, a group of ladies stood there. I started to introduce myself. "Hi, I'm Yelena–"

Before I could finish my sentence, they started laughing. 

"So, this is the girl from the orphanage? She's just like what you said—dirty and disgusting," one with chestnut hair mocked. They were looking for trouble.

I frowned. I tried to ignore them and leave, but a tall girl blocked me. "Don't go. Let's play a game."

Her hand pinned my shoulder, and I felt a sting. I looked closely and realized she was holding two needles. "We'll play the injection game. You're the patient, and we're the nurses."

They closed in, each brandishing a needle that pricked at me like rain.

Cecilia stood outside the circle with a faint smile.

I curled up and begged like I always did in the orphanage. "Please stop… If you keep hitting me, I'll tell Mom and Dad…"

"Telling Mom and Dad?" Cecilia came over and yanked my hair hard. "You're in this situation because I planned this. There are no cameras here, and you don't have a recorder. We won't leave any marks."

She squeezed my chin and aimed a prick near my heart. "Everyone here is a socialite. Will they believe in you or us? If you pull that stunt, Mom and Dad will think you've embarrassed them.

"Yelena, you've been living lavishly lately. But let me tell you this—I'm the Turner family's real daughter. You're just related to Mom and Dad by blood. They don't love you. They didn't get rid of you because it's their responsibility!"

I sobbed harder, my shoulders shivering. "Please, don't threaten me anymore. I'll pull out my trump card…"

Cecilia laughed. "And what can a coward like you do?"

"I'll drag you to hell with me," I said.

As if hearing a joke, they laughed out loud. "Show us what you've got, then."

Before they could finish, I struck. I set their party dresses alight with a lighter. Screams erupted.

Before anyone could help them, I tossed the lighter at myself and put on an innocent face. "Do you believe me now?"

Fortunately, everyone was wearing formal gowns, which were made of thick fabric with heavy layers. So, the fire went out quickly as they rolled across the floor.

By the time people at the banquet heard the screams and rushed over, all they saw was a group of girls thrashing on the ground, trying to smother the flames.

I didn't care. Everyone already knew I came from an orphanage, and after the whole kneeling and begging-for-money incident, my reputation couldn't get any lower. 

Rolling on the floor? Please. Even stripping naked in public wouldn't make things worse for me.

However, for the elegant, polished daughters of high society, it was humiliating. Watching them roll on the ground beside me was almost comical.

So, when people came running, their first instinct wasn't to help put out the fire. It was to record it.

By the time the flames were out, nearly three-quarters of the banquet guests had gathered around. The ladies' makeup was ruined, their gowns torn. It was easily the 

Chapter 4