Chapter 1

Alysa Johnson knelt in the pouring rain, her clothes soaked through, outlining curves that shouldn't have been visible on a sixteen-year-old. Three supercars worth tens of millions were parked around her.

"Please, give me back my medication..."

The lead boy pressed his foot down on the back of her hand, grinding it into the ground, his laughter excited.

"Sleep with me for one night, and I'll give it to you."

This was the scene I saw when I transmigrated into this novel.

As the original character, the vicious stepmother who would trade her stepdaughter to business partners for resources, I figured if I was going to be evil, I'd at least do it with class.

I walked over, carrying a golf club I'd just bought, said nothing, and swung it directly at the boy's kneecap with full force.

His scream drowned out the thunder.

I pulled up the stunned Alysa and wiped the muddy water from her face.

"Remember this. From now on, whoever makes you cry, you make them bleed."

Lila POV

The rainstorm hammered against the asphalt like popping corn.

The titanium alloy club in my hand was still vibrating with the aftershock of shattering bone.

That swing had felt perfect. No resistance, just a crisp "crack," followed immediately by pig-like squealing.

Ethan curled up in the muddy water like a cooked shrimp, clutching his knee, screaming until his voice cracked.

The rich kids around him who'd just been filming with their phones and egging him on instantly went silent, like chickens with their necks wrung.

They stared at me wide-eyed, not one of them daring to help him up.

After all, none of them had ever seen anything like this.

In their world, wealthy socialites maintained composure. Even when angry, they'd elegantly throw a check or splash some wine.

Who the hell just swung a metal golf club and crippled someone's leg?

I wiped the rain from my face and looked down at Alysa, still kneeling on the ground.

The kid was terrified.

Those eyes described in the novel as "dewy like a fawn's" now held only fear, her whole body trembling like a sieve.

She looked at me, then at Ethan writhing on the ground, her lips quivering, unable to form a complete sentence.

"What are you spacing out for?"

I planted the club on the ground with a sharp clang, making those spoiled heirs collectively take a step back.

"His leg's broken, not yours. Stand up."

My voice wasn't loud, but it cut through the storm with piercing clarity.

Alysa instinctively tried to push herself up, but her hands were covered in bloody marks from where Ethan had stepped on them. The moment she applied pressure, pain shot through her and her knees buckled again.

I didn't help her.

I just watched coldly.

If she didn't even have the strength to stand up, saving her this once would be pointless. This damned plot inertia would eventually push her back into the mud as a plaything.

Alysa seemed to sense my coldness. She bit her lip, tears mixing with rainwater streaming down her face, but she didn't make a sound. Using her elbows, she shakily pulled herself up.

Good.

Though pathetic, at least her spine was still straight.

I bent down and picked up the crushed asthma inhaler from beside Ethan's still-twitching hand.

Filthy, covered in mud and sand.

I wiped it on Ethan's custom suit worth hundreds of thousands until it was clean, then turned around, grabbed Alysa's chin, forced her mouth open, shoved the inhaler in, and pressed it twice.

The medication entered her throat, and Alysa's rapid wheezing finally began to settle.

"Thank... thank you."

Her voice was barely audible, still trembling.

"Don't thank me."

I released her and turned to look at the group of rich kids who'd retreated to their cars, my gaze finally settling on Ethan, still wailing on the ground.

"Mr. Hayes, how does it feel?"

Ethan's face was covered in cold sweat, his features twisted in pain, glaring at me viciously.

"Lila... you crazy bitch! You dare hit me! My family won't let this go! I'll kill you! I'll destroy your whole family."

"Alright, save your energy."

I cut off his impotent rage, playing with the club in my hand as I approached step by step.

The bodyguards finally snapped out of it and tried to rush forward. I raised the club directly at Ethan's other leg.

"Anyone moves, I'll put him in a wheelchair for life. Symmetrically broken."

The bodyguards froze.

Everyone could see I really would do it.

I crouched down, the cold club head tapping Ethan's pale face.

"I know who your father is. I know the Hayes family runs this city. But Ethan, did you forget? Those with nothing to lose don't fear those with everything. Crazy people don't fear idiots."

I lowered my voice to a volume only he could hear.

"That illegal offshore account your dad has, and those twin illegitimate children he's keeping in the western suburbs. Mrs. Hayes doesn't know about them yet, does she? Tell me, if I sent all that information to her email, do you think she'd come after me first, or your dad?"

Ethan's eyes widened in shock. He stared at me in disbelief, even forgetting his pain.

This was the perk of transmigrating into this novel. My head was full of every wealthy family's dirty secrets.

"Looks like you're not stupid. You understand."

I stood up, looking down at him.

"Today's lesson was about being human. Did you learn it?"

Ethan gritted his teeth. Though hatred remained in his eyes, fear dominated.

I laughed derisively, turned around, opened the car door, and shoved the still-dazed Alysa into the passenger seat.

"Get in."

Even after my taillights disappeared into the rain, none of them dared move.

The car's heat was on full blast.

Alysa huddled in the leather seat, gripping the seatbelt tightly, staring blankly ahead.

I glanced at her and tossed a towel from the glove compartment.

"Dry off."

She mechanically took the towel, drying her hair, then suddenly asked quietly.

"They'll come after us, won't they?"

The kid wasn't stupid.

In this world's setting, the four major families were gods. Laws meant nothing to them.

Ethan's broken leg. The Hayes family would never let it go.

"Scared?"

I steered with one hand and lit a cigarette.

The original character didn't smoke, but I needed nicotine to suppress the adrenaline spike from earlier.

"I'm... I'm not scared for myself."

Alysa lowered her head, looking at her swollen hands.

"But I'm scared of dragging Dad down, and... dragging you down."

Even in this household where the original character had treated her badly-even cruelly-this kid still worried about implicating others.

This was the terminal illness of abuse novel heroines: kindness bordering on weakness, consideration that made you furious.

"Dragging me down?"

I exhaled a smoke ring and laughed coldly.

"Alysa, listen carefully. In this world, besides yourself, no one can drag you down. As for revenge..."

I looked in the rearview mirror at the headlights flickering in the rainy night and smiled.

"Let them come. If I dared break his leg, I'm prepared to tear a hole in the sky. Starting today, this show has a new director."