Helen slung her duffel bag over one arm, turned around, and picked up her phone. "It's done. Come get me," she said. Her tone was calm—cold, even. Like a command from someone used to giving orders. Sienna's face twisted with rage. That cold, decisive back, walking away without hesitation, overlapped with the Helen she used to know—the one who once begged and groveled in front of her. The contrast stung. "You b*tch! Get out! Just go! Let's see how long that attitude lasts after leaving the Morgans!" Sienna shouted after her, practically seething. She scrambled to her feet, looking a mess, then grabbed Lydia and stormed toward the house—still muttering curses under her breath the whole way. Lydia kept glancing back, step by step, at Helen's figure shrinking into the distance until it finally disappeared. Her teeth gently sank into her bottom lip. Just now ... who was Helen talking to? Sienna always said Helen grew up out in the sticks. It was only four years ago—after her grandmother died—that the Morgans brought her back.A girl from a small town like that would never truly fit in with high society, no matter what. Everyone Helen ever associated with came from the Morgans' circle or Sean Griffin. So now that she'd been kicked out, who the hell would be coming to pick her up? And more importantly ... That tone Helen used on the phone ... It was too commanding, too confident. Lydia couldn't hold back her curiosity. She tugged on Sienna's sleeve, and the two of them rushed toward the study. The floor-to-ceiling window in the study gave them a perfect view of the Morgans' front gates. ... Outside the Morgans' estate, a car roared in like a missile and stopped smoothly right in front of Helen. It wasn't some flashy sports car, nor a flashy stretch limo. There were no recognizable logos or fancy branding anywhere on it. Just a matte black SUV, low-profile in color, but somehow, that only made it more striking.It hit the eye like a punch, bold and unmissable. The body had clean, flowing lines, but the design carried a raw, rugged power. The car door swung open. A man in black tactical gear jumped out in one clean, fluid motion. He was tall and broad-shouldered, clean buzz cut, features chiseled and intense—his eyes sharp as a hawk's. He rounded the front of the car in long, purposeful strides, heading straight for Helen. Every step radiated the presence of someone used to disciplined training—controlled, but with force behind it. "Boss!" The man stopped directly in front of Helen, posture straight as a board. He snapped off a sharp salute, crisp and clean, the kind of salute that came from deep loyalty and discipline. There was no emotion on his stern face, only absolute obedience. Helen's expression didn't change. She gave a subtle nod in return. The man immediately stepped to the side and respectfully opened the back door for her.Without hesitation, Helen lifted her foot and got into the car. She didn't spare even a glance back at the Morgans, not a flicker of nostalgia, not a single look over her shoulder. The door shut behind her with a solid thud, and the specially modified vehicle sealed off all sound from the outside world in an instant. The man climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine. The oversized tires gripped the pavement. Whoosh—with a sound like something cutting through the wind, the SUV launched forward, powerful and unstoppable. ... Back in the study, Lydia rushed to the window, but all she caught was a glimpse of the buzz-cut man respectfully helping Helen into the car. Even at a distance, she could feel the deadly, intimidating energy radiating off of him. Especially when he got into the vehicle. He must've sensed her watching, because suddenly, he jerked his head up and looked straight at her. That look ...It hit Lydia like a venomous snake had coiled around her throat. She couldn't breathe, and the air around her seemed to vanish. Her face went pale as a sheet, cold sweat pouring down. Her knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor right there by the window. "Lydia, what's wrong?!" Sienna gasped and rushed to help her up. Jacob turned to look toward the window, too. And right then, a roar erupted outside, loud and wild like a beast letting loose. A black, steel monster of a vehicle came crashing into their field of view. Jacob shot to his feet, eyes wide in shock, staring at the SUV that was now tearing down the road with terrifying speed and intensity. His pupils shrank in disbelief, contracting again and again. He considered himself well-connected—his own garage filled with top-tier luxury cars. But that vehicle? He'd never seen anything like it before. There was something else—an inexplicable, gut-level sense of fear—that made Jacob frown hard. "That car ... Whose is it?" Lydia curled into Sienna's arms, clutching the hem of her dress so tightly her knuckles had turned pale. Her lips trembled. "Helen just ... got into that car." Jacob's expression shifted. "Helen?" That SUV was definitely not some ordinary vehicle. How the hell could Helen know someone who could afford to drive a machine like that—let alone be close enough that they'd come personally to pick her up from the Morgans' estate? "What are you two whispering about?" Sienna huffed. She'd seen the car too, but didn't think there was anything special about it. "Birds of a feather, right? Anyone hanging out with that little brat can't be anything decent." It didn't even have a logo. Just a no-name junker too cheap to slap a badge on the front. What was the big deal? Why were Jacob and Lydia acting like they'd just seen a ghost? Right then, the housekeeper knocked on the study door, a strange look on her face. "Mr. and Mrs. Morgan, I was just cleaning up ... um, Ms. Helen's room, and I found this on her vanity," she said cautiously. She walked over and placed a piece of paper and a bank card on the desk. "That girl already left her crap behind. Why bother bringing it to us?" Sienna muttered, glancing at it with disdain. But Jacob's gaze locked onto the card. His brow creased deeper. He reached out and picked up the sheet of paper. Helen's handwriting, bold and stylish, flowed effortlessly across the page. It was a list. And at the very bottom, in her fierce, confident scrawl, she'd written, "The above covers every expense I've incurred over the past four years at the Morgans, including room and board. The total is 500,000 dollars. PIN: 000000." Jacob's frown deepened. Sienna leaned over for a look, and the second she saw the paper, she let out a laugh. "Wow. She really went all in on the act. Actually made a list and everything."Her eyes skimmed down. "Five hundred thousand? Lydia spends that much in a month on allowance! And Helen thinks her little four-year joyride as a fake heiress is worth just 500,000?" She scoffed. "Trash blood stays trash. Her whole world starts and ends at 500,000." Sienna rolled her eyes. "And what, she thinks throwing us a list and a debit card makes us square? Where exactly did she get that kind of money to 'settle up' with us anyway?" Jacob said nothing, eyes glued to the paper in his hand. He remembered Helen throwing that 50,0000 check in his face, the way she looked—so cold, so sure of herself, so final. She'd meant every word of it. His gaze ran over the list again, slower this time. His hand tightened into a fist. "Tell the butler to pull every single expense Helen's had in the last four years—every meal, every outfit, every cent. I want a full breakdown. Now."