C15

"Isn't that right? What's your version then? As a young woman, you don't even take care of yourself. How do you expect me to speak of you?" Mollie's eyes were wide with disbelief, her voice sharp with disappointment, for Katie had indeed brought shame upon her.

Edson jumped into the fray, pointing an accusing finger at Katie. "Sis, you cozy up to some rich guy, yet you can't spare a measly hundred thousand yuan for me? Face it, you just think Mom and I are beneath you, and you're itching to go it alone, aren't you? Hmph, do you even consider yourself my sister?"

Her head was reeling. Was staying in this toxic environment worth it?

"We have nothing to do with each other," she tried to explain, desperate to avoid any misunderstandings. After all, blood was thicker than water.

Edson scoffed and hurled a bowl of vinegar in Katie's face before smashing the bowl on the ground, shattering it to pieces.

She closed her eyes, wishing she could freeze the moment. The stinging rebukes of her mother and brother echoed in her ears.

"Mom, I can't do this anymore." She was too tired to explain, yearning for a quiet place to find solace, yet who could mend the scars on her heart?

Katie was lost in a haze of confusion as she left her home behind, turned off her phone, and meandered from noon until dusk. The luxurious streets were captivating but only added to her bewilderment.

Back home, she had been scolded by Mollie and backed into a corner by Edson.

What did her future hold?

"Hey, look at this beauty. Come on over and show me some affection," slurred a drunk, swaying as he approached Katie with a beer bottle in hand. A cold breeze sobered him slightly as he caught sight of her.

He staggered over, circling to face Katie, and grabbed her arm, squinting as he sized her up.

"Let go," she snapped, her brows furrowed in annoyance.

The reek of alcohol was nauseating.

As she looked up, Katie realized she had ended up in the east district, not far from the notorious bar street. It was no surprise to run into a drunkard here.

"Haha, you've got quite the temper. I like that," he chuckled, discarding his beer bottle and wiping his mouth. He tightened his grip on her arms and leaned in, intent on planting a kiss on her lips.

Under the dim glow of the streetlights, her figure was elongated, a silhouette seething with anger.

"I'm in a bad mood. Don't mess with me," she hissed, her icy voice slipping through gritted teeth as she pinched his cheek with a single hand.

Passersby glanced at the entangled pair, whispering and pointing, seemingly unfazed by the commotion.

"Haha... You think I'll back off just because you tell me to? I'm not about to listen to you, haha." The drunk, his judgment clouded by liquor, mistakenly thought Katie was an easy mark, his bravado swelled by the night's excesses.

Did he really believe that no woman could resist his allure? That a simple beckon would have them flocking to him?

Katie gave him a dismissive eye roll. Her time with Nancy had not been for naught; she'd picked up a few self-defense moves.

"Is that so? Shall we put that to the test?" she retorted, now viewing every man as a potential foe.

The night before, she'd had a few drinks too many and ended up tackling a man. Now, each man she saw looked like an enemy deserving of a beatdown.

This man had unwittingly volunteered himself as her punching bag.

Onlookers observed the scuffle with detached normalcy. In this part of town, near the bars, such drunken altercations and one-night stands were nothing out of the ordinary.

But then, a scream pierced the air—not from Katie, but from the man who had underestimated her.

A knee jab from Katie twisted his face in agony, his skin turning an ashen hue as he fell backward, his body twitching, hands clutching his groin as he writhed on the ground.

Katie squatted down, hoisted him up by the collar, and gently patted his cheek. "You wanted to provoke me? Refused to heed my warning? Let's see how brash you can be now!"

Her robust voice elicited chuckles from those passing by—an unusual response to such a scene.

She didn't care if she was the subject of their amusement; she needed to vent, and this nuisance had come along at just the right time. She was eager to see if this world judged people only by their looks or their wealth.

Average in looks and without wealth, was she destined to be bullied for life?

"Ah... You dare to hit me? I..." He was beside himself. His ego couldn't handle being struck by a woman. If word got out, how could he ever show his face again?

The man reached for her hand, trying to stand, but she forcefully pulled at his collar and toppled him with a swift kick from her left foot.

"Thud." His face hit the ground, three teeth scattering. Groaning in pain, he lay there, unable to get up.

Jabe, having finished his business dealings, was lured to a bar by a group of friends. Their tall silhouettes were striking in the dim light of the bar.

"Mr. Russell, this new cocktail is fantastic. Why don't you treat me to one?" A stunning woman in a vibrant strapless gown approached him, her statuesque figure accentuated by the dress. Her cascading curls added a touch of sophistication to her sultry look.

She had never imagined she'd run into Jabe, the man of her dreams, in such a place. Seizing the opportunity, she wasn't about to let it pass.

"A drink?" Jabe furrowed his brows, a hint of puzzlement in his piercing gaze. The invitation was simple, yet it conjured the memory of someone else.

Innocently charming yet deliberately provocative, she had aimed to entice him while plotting to secretly photograph him in the nude. Such boldness... he remembered he had an appointment with her.

"Volney, we're leaving," Jabe said sternly, grabbing his coat and heading for the door with a sense of urgency.

His buddies, who had barely started their drinks, watched in surprise as he made to exit. They still had important things to discuss.

The woman stood awkwardly, torn between following and sitting down, her gaze locked on Jabe as he brushed past her.

"Ah!" Up ahead, a commotion broke out as a formidable woman lifted a man and punched him in the face, his blood oozing out in a distasteful display.

Katie had no patience for such drama. She was about to leave when he grabbed her leg, insisting on calling the police and demanding compensation for medical and emotional damages.

Without a word, Katie's fist met his face, demanding silence.

She wasn't the demure type; she was simply irate, exceptionally so.

Money—it seemed to be all anyone cared about. Did wealth make one king? Today, she was set on showing that her fists held the real power. She wasn't usually violent, but today, her whimsical side took over.

"Mercy, mighty heroine! Big sister, I beg you, stop! My gracious lady, not the face—please, spare my face!" The drunkard's pretense of dignity had evaporated as he was on the verge of kneeling, imploring her with the deference due to a noblewoman.

In a twist of fate, he found himself at the mercy of a formidable woman whose fists rained down with relentless, unyielding force.