The word trash froze the smile on Lydia's face into something ugly and jagged. Her sweet expression warped into a snarl. The sheer, icy condescension in Helen's eyes was worse than any screamed insult. It felt like ... every single thing she had fought so hard to steal was nothing but worthless garbage in the other girl's sight. "Oh, and one more thing," Helen added, her gaze sweeping dismissively over the gilded foyer before landing back on Lydia with a derisive chuckle. "That precious Morgan title you cling to ... and that fiancé you worked so hard to snare ... " Her lips curved into a sharper, almost wicked smile. "Hold on to them tight, Lydia. Make sure you never let go." Lydia went pale; fury twisted her features until they were almost unrecognizable. She swung at Helen—an instinctive, furious slap—then froze as she caught sight of a shadow at the doorway. In an instant, she transformed. Stumbling back like a frightened doe, she crumpled to the floor with a soft thud, her eyes welling up with tears. "Helen, I ... I just wanted to apologize, to ask you not to hate Mom and Dad ... H-How could you ... " Helen! Seeing her treasured daughter on the floor, she rushed over and roared, her voice full of outrage, "After everything we've done for you, how dare you lay a hand on Lydia?!" Helen watched Sienna gently wrap her arms around her precious daughter, her face a mask of maternal concern. A flicker of irony crossed Helen's eyes. If this had happened months ago, she might have crumbled, questioned herself, and tried harder to get their approval. But whatever need had driven her before had long since died. "You're just in time." She reached into her canvas duffel and pulled out a small red velvet jewelry box. With a dull clack, she dropped it at Sienna's feet. The lid flipped open, and a gaudy pearl necklace rattled out. "Return to sender."It was the necklace Sienna had offhandedly given her for her 18th birthday. Even then, young Helen had known it wasn't chosen with her in mind. Yet, she had treasured it like a priceless heirloom. Now? Not anymore. Sienna looked down at the pearls, bewildered. She couldn't even recall when she ever bought such a thing, or when she gave it to Helen. But the gesture itself—throwing her gift back at her feet—was a blatant slap in the face. "What are you doing, Helen? You lived my daughter's life for 20 years! What right do you have to act like this?" "I was an infant. I had no say. The real question is, how does a mother not recognize her own child?" Helen's laugh was a short, cold sound. "Maybe you should schedule a full checkup, Sienna. I bet you wouldn't want that kind of blindness running in the family. Right?" Sienna's face darkened. Her voice sharpened into a scream of indignation. "You vicious little—! So this is your true self! You were pretending this whole time! Now that we don't need you, you throw off the act!"You ungrateful wretch! You belong back in the countryside! Living a low life is what suits you best! "Don't you ever dare come crawling back to this family!" Helen's gaze was ice. A slow, dangerous smile touched her crimson lips. It was a razor-edged thing, sharp with mockery and cold with a sub-zero finality. The sheer intensity of it made Sienna falter, a shiver of fear running down her spine as she instinctively took a step back. "Who would want to?" Helen's voice dripped with contempt. "What do you mean by that?!" Sienna shrieked, incredulous and furious. "What I mean is ... the Morgans you're so proud of mean nothing to me." Helen's smile widened, a beautiful, chilling thing. "Let me put it simply: You're a fucking idiot, Sienna." Sienna's righteous fury nearly toppled her into hysteria. Her usually composed face was purple with rage. She pointed at Helen, ready to tear into her, when Lydia clutched Sienna's arm, eyes wet and trembling. "Helen, please ... just blame me. Hit me, yell at me—anything. I don't care ... But you can't treat Mom and Dad this way. "I grew up without parents. And now ... I just found them. Please, don't make Mom sick with anger ... That hurts me." She sniffled pitifully. The appeal landed like a knife in Sienna's heart. Oh dear, how thoughtful you are, she thought. After all the hardship you've been through, you still think of others. That proves just how pure our bloodline is.. Competely different from that vicious, ungrateful viper! Her gaze at Helen turned pure venom. Suddenly, Helen laughed. Then, before anyone could react, she stepped forward two measured paces and struck Lydia across the face. The slap cracked through the air like a pistol shot. Lydia cradled her rapidly reddening face, staring at Helen in utter shock. Helen ... slapped her? That Helen, who had always been as meek as a mouse in this house, dared to hit her? Has she gone insane?! "Helen!" Sienna's scream shredded the air. How dare this vile cunt strike her precious baby right in front of her? It was as if she had slapped Sienna herself. She flung up a hand to strike back, fury granting her speed. Helen caught Sienna's wrist effortlessly, then yanked her away, sending the woman stumbling forward like a marionette with her strings cut. She crashed into Lydia behind Helen. The two of them went down in a tangled, ungainly heap on the cold marble floor. Helen looked down at them, a portrait of icy elegance amidst their chaos. The expression on her face was one of cold amusement—an almost predatory brightness that made the contours of her face dangerously beautiful. "You asked for this," Helen reminded Lydia, her tone mockingly sweet. "You wanted to play the innocent victim. I'm just helping you perfect the role." When Lydia had first returned, Helen had genuinely tried to get along with her. She had bent over backwards, acquiescing to every whim, hoping to build a sisterly bond. But Lydia had weaponized innocence, delivering a flawless damsel-in-distress act. Her teary confessions and staged fragility skillfully turned the entire Morgans against Helen, stoking their disdain day by day. Helen had endured it all—only because she cared, because she didn't want to put the Morgans in a difficult position. When she cared, they were everything. Now, they amount to nothing. And Lydia? Even less. "You said it yourself, right?" Helen said, the mockery evident, "There, I just did that. Unless, of course, all that 'hit me, yell at me' nonsense was just a performance for Mrs. Morgan? Hm?" Lydia's face twisted in mortified fury and frightened rage. "O-Of course I wasn't! I just don't want you to ... " she stammered, clutching her reddened cheek. "Then take it," Helen cut in."Save that playing-the-innocent act of yours. The Morgans might be fooled—I don't. "So now, dear 'innocent girl' ... If you don't want your flawless cheek swollen, better f*ck off next time I see you. Got that?"