The night the storm lashed against the mud, they pinned me into a puddle, laughing at my madness, calling me worthless, mocking that I didn’t deserve to live.
Three years later, I returned in stilettos, dressed in black-and-gold tailored suit with crimson lips, eight bodyguards clearing the path behind me.
The wedding hall blazed with light, crystal chandeliers glowing above the “beloved daughter” standing veiled and smiling. Beneath them, elegant women raised their glasses softly: “Look—her daughter’s about to marry, while that madwoman probably died in some gutter no one remembers.”
I stood at the door. Didn’t knock. Didn’t speak.
Just flicked my wrist—the whip sliced through air, *crack*—striking the rose bouquet at the head table. Petals exploded, glass shattered.
Silence fell so deep you could hear every breath.
I walked forward, heels clicking down the red carpet, stepping over memories of the feet once crushed into my face.
“Who—” someone stammered.
I smiled, pulling a DNA report from my folder and flinging it into the air: “She is my daughter. And you…” My gaze locked onto the girl in white, “…aren’t even worthy of the insoles I threw away.”
Papers rained down like snow.
One truth after another slammed down: forged birth certificates, stolen identity for school enrollment, fraudulently claimed family trust funds—all orchestrated by your father and my ex-husband.
The society ladies turned pale; the woman who once led the humiliation fainted on the spot.
My ex-husband rushed forward, collapsing to his knees, clutching my legs: “Nianwei, I was wrong! But I still love you!”
I looked down at him—like staring at a dog rotting in the mud.
“You swore to protect me for life.” I held my phone to his ear. “Listen well—Kingsley Group is now entirely under my ownership. All thirty-seven of your companies? Mine.”
The phone rang again.
I answered calmly: “Seize control of all sixteen underground networks in Hecheng. Let them know… the Godmother has returned.”
As I turned, at the end of the red carpet, my daughter gazed at me, trembling.
I knelt, wiped her tears, whispered so only she could hear:
“Don’t be afraid. Mom isn’t a crazy woman.”
“I’m here to kill.”
Three years ago, Evelyn Hastings went abroad to develop medicine to save her daughter Lillian Hastings, who suffered from a rare disease. Upon her return three years later, she discovered that her husband cheated on a nanny, and they had seized control of the Hastings family. They had abused Lillian to the point of mental breakdown, and even Lillian’s fiancee joined in tormenting her. Now Evelyn Hastings’ back to take revenge!
