When Justice Meets Love

On the day Yara Cullen was released from prison, it was raining. A chilly wind carried the drizzle, striking her as the media swarmed the prison gates. "Ms. Cullen, in the Crestwood Estate sexual assault case, your client lost the lawsuit and took her own life six months ago. Her mother is demanding accountability. Do you have anything to say?” "Ms. Cullen, your attorney's license has been revoked, and your mentor was forced to retire. What are your thoughts on this?" No matter how the reporters pressed, Yara kept her head down and pushed forward, forcing her way through the crowd. A black G-Wagon was parked by the roadside, where Westley Langston leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Beside him, Elena Cullen tugged at his arm. He turned, glancing toward the prison gates. Chapter 1 On the day Yara Cullen was released from prison, it was raining. A chilly wind carried the drizzle, striking her as the media swarmed the prison gates. "Ms. Cullen, in the Crestwood Estate sexual assault case, your client lost the lawsuit and took her own life six months ago. Her mother is demanding accountability. Do you have anything to say?” "Ms. Cullen, your attorney's license has been revoked, and your mentor was forced to retire. What are your thoughts on this?" No matter how the reporters pressed, Yara kept her head down and pushed forward, forcing her way through the crowd. A black G-Wagon was parked by the roadside, where Westley Langston leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette. Beside him, Elena Cullen tugged at his arm. He turned, glancing toward the prison gates. The two of them walked up to Yara. Elena pointed at the scar on Yara’s forehead, her face twisted in shock as if she’d seen a ghost. "Yara, what happened to your forehead? It’s so ugly and terrifying! You looked disfigured!" Yara lowered her head and adjusted her bangs, trying to cover the scar, but it was too large to hide. The scar was a result of the bullying she endured in prison. Westley remained silent, his gaze cold and distant. With a cheerful smile, Elena pulled out a box. "Yara, this is a gift from Westley and me. It’s a pair of new shoes. A little reminder to stay on the right path and not make the same mistakes again." To Yara, the words were dripping with irony. She knew all too well why she ended up in prison a year ago, and no one was more aware of it than Elena and Westley. Yara was a lawyer with an impeccable five-year record, celebrated as a gold-standard attorney in the industry. Elena, on the other hand, was the Cullen family’s illegitimate heiress, brought back by their father two years ago. She was also a lawyer, but after three years of practice, she had never won a single case, earning her the reputation as one of the most incompetent lawyers in the industry. However, everything changed because of the Crestwood Estate case a year ago. In that case, Yara represented the victim, a young girl, suing the wealthy businessman, Leo Harrington. Elena was Leo’s defense attorney. Initially, the evidence was conclusive, and victory seemed assured for the victim. But the night before the trial, all the evidence on Yara’s computer vanished, leading to a devastating loss. The case garnered widespread attention, and the media painted the young victim as a prostitute. Shortly after, Yara was accused of fabricating evidence. Her law license was revoked, and she was sentenced to a year in prison. Meanwhile, Elena, having won the case, rose to prominence almost overnight. For quite some time, Yara couldn’t understand how it had all happened until she stumbled upon a private chat group on Westley’s phone, consisting of him, Elena, and their father. “Elena, your sister has her reputation and status, yet she showed you no mercy in court. I think she just wants to humiliate you.” “Your sister was indeed out of line, Elena. Dad’s on your side.” “What about you, Westley? What do you think?” "Elena, just tell me which evidence or files you want gone." … The car drove toward the Cullen family estate. Along the way, Yara stared out at the cityscape passing by. A year was neither too long nor too short, yet it felt like everything had changed in that brief span of time. The Cullen family villa had been completely renovated inside and out, and Yara immediately noticed that the peach tree at the front gate was gone. She rushed over and asked one of the housekeepers, "What happened to the peach tree my mom planted?" The housekeeper responded with a cold glare. "Miss Elena prefers chamomile tea. She insisted it had to be grown at home, so Mr. Cullen had the tree cut down and replaced it with chamomile plants." Yara felt as though her heart was struck with a heavy blow. The peach tree was over twenty years old. It had been planted by her mother when she was alive and was the only memory her mother left for her. Now it had been cut down just because Elena wanted chamomile tea. Yara turned and headed back inside, intending to confront her father, but before she could, a hysterical woman came rushing out and grabbed her. A sharp slap landed on her face with a loud crack. The woman clung to her, sobbing and accusing her bitterly. "Everyone, look! This heartless lawyer is the one who caused my daughter’s death!" Chapter 2 The woman was the mother of the victim from the Crestwood Estate case. She wasn’t alone—she was accompanied by a swarm of reporters. The blinding flashes from their cameras made Yara feel dizzy. The woman shoved and struck Yara as she screamed, "I told my daughter not to sue! I told her we couldn’t fight against the rich. But this woman said she had the confidence to win! "And what happened? My daughter was labeled a prostitute and jumped to her death. And now look at her—she’s out of prison! Why didn’t she die? She’s the one who deserves to die! I want her to pay for my daughter’s life!" Yara stumbled backward from the woman’s push and fell to the ground. Elena caught her, then forced Yara’s face toward the cameras, exposing the jagged scar on her forehead. "The Crestwood Estate case was my sister’s fault, but she’s already paid the price. Look at her scar. The victim was just a waitress, while my sister is the heiress of a wealthy family. How could her lowly life compare to my sister’s?" ... That night, Yara became the subject of the prime-time news. On camera, Elena addressed her affectionately as "sister" and delivered her carefully crafted remarks, making it appear as though Yara shared the same sentiments. When the news aired, the internet exploded with outrage aimed at Yara. "A disgrace to the legal profession. No wonder she got a year in prison. One year was too light. She should’ve gotten life." "Props to her cellmates for bullying her. She deserved to be disfigured. From a high-society heiress to a tabloid scandal." "Does anyone know this shameless lawyer’s address? I’ll send her a little ‘gift’ to show my appreciation." The comments didn’t just insult Yara. They began to escalate into threats against her safety. After much thought, Yara decided she needed to set the record straight. She recorded a video to clarify everything and was about to send it to the media when Westley suddenly stormed in. He snatched her phone away and demanded angrily, "Do you even know what you’re doing?" "I’m going to clear my name.” "Clear your name? Do you realize how much this will hurt Elena?" Yara stared at the man she had been married to for five years, the light in her eyes slowly dimming with each word he spoke. This was the man who once held her hand and swore with absolute certainty that he would protect her for a lifetime. Now, for the sake of another woman, he was demanding that she bear all the blame. "What about the pain I’ve endured? Westley, whose husband are you supposed to be?" "Yara, I’m your husband, but I’m also Elena’s brother-in-law. I have to stand on the side of what’s fair," Westley said, his voice laced with self-righteousness. “Elena has been defending you wholeheartedly, and now you want to turn against her?" Yara found it laughable. "Turn against her? Who caused me to be hated by everyone? Has Elena really ever stood up for me? Westley, are you blind or just heartless?" "Yara, you’re being unreasonable." "Unreasonable? That’s you! Westley Langston, give me back my phone!" Yara stood on her toes, reaching for the phone. Westley raised it high above his head and, without hesitation, deleted the video. Yara froze, her hand suspended mid-air. "Westley Langston, what gives you the right to delete my video?" Westley’s face was cold and unyielding. "Yara, stop dreaming. There’s no going back for you now. Besides, one top-tier lawyer in the Cullen family is enough. From now on, just focus on being a housewife." Yara stared at the man before her, and the last glimmer of light in her eyes finally extinguished. She didn’t want to cry for him. He wasn’t worth it. But the tears fell uncontrollably. "Westley, I graduated as the top student from Hudson University’s law program. I worked for five years without losing a single case. Every senior in the field said I had talent... "And now you’re asking me to be a housewife, just so Elena can take my place!" Chapter 3 Perhaps Westley had long forgotten, but Yara remembered it vividly. Back then, she was the star of Hudson University’s law program, while Westley was a poor student from the neighboring economics department. Even his tuition had been funded by Yara’s mother. There were always plenty of boys vying for Yara’s attention—some wrote her songs, others brought her flowers. But none of them were like Westley, who waited outside the women’s dormitory every day. In the summer, he brought her cold drinks; in the winter, warm tea, all for the chance to give her a ride to the library on his bicycle. Yara never paid him any attention. Her dormmates often mocked him, laughing and saying, "Look at him—thinking he can land a princess! Guess fairy tales really are just fairy tales." That day, everyone burst into laughter. Everyone except Yara. She stopped, walked up to Westley, and said, "I’ve never ridden on a bicycle before. Teach me." Before long, news of Yara and Westley dating spread across Hudson University. Several upperclassmen joked that they were already heartbroken before they even had a chance to ask her out. The school forum buzzed with posts predicting how long their relationship would last. After all, the gap between them was too great. Westley was average in every way, while Yara stood out in looks, grades, and family background. What no one expected was that the two would get married right after graduation. When Yara accepted his proposal, she looked into his eyes and said, "Westley, you’ve been so good to me... so good that it almost makes me feel guilty. “It feels like saying no to you would be letting you down. Will you keep treating me like this forever?" Westley didn’t hesitate to give her his answer. He held Yara tightly in his arms as if he wished he could rip his heart out and show it to her. "Yara, you’ve given me a new life. You’ve made me feel like a real person. I’ll spend the rest of my life being good to you, and only you." Looking back now, it was nothing short of ironic. They had only been married for five short years, but to Yara, it felt like a lifetime ago. There was no such thing as "forever." A man’s promises, once spoken, were destined to be broken. By the third year of their marriage, her father, Robert Cullen, brought Elena back into the family. From that day on, Yara felt as though she was gradually losing both her father and her husband. Robert, a man of few words, would spend hours patiently comforting Elena after she lost a case. And Westley, who couldn’t even name her favorite hobbies, would stay up all night to watch soap operas with Elena. The Crestwood Estate case a year ago was the final turning point, a line that forever divided Yara’s life from Elena’s. … Yara lay awake until the early hours of the morning and didn’t wake up until midday. As she descended the stairs, she heard the sound of laughter echoing from the living room. Elena, Robert, and Westley were talking and laughing together. Whatever Elena said must have been hilarious, because Robert’s face was creased with delighted wrinkles. Westley was also smiling warmly, and with a playful gesture, he tapped the tip of Elena’s nose. The cheerful, harmonious atmosphere came to an abrupt halt the moment Yara appeared. It was as if she were an intruder trespassing on someone else’s territory. But this was her home. Even the villa itself was part of the inheritance her mother had left her. Elena leaned against Westley’s arm. “Yara, you’re so lazy. We’ve already had lunch.” Robert responded casually, “Have the kitchen make her some pasta.” Elena let out a theatrical sigh. “The cook said she had personal matters and took the afternoon off. No one’s here to make pasta for her.” Without even glancing up, Robert said, “Then order takeout. Young people love takeout these days.” As he spoke, he turned to Elena with a warm smile, every wrinkle on his face radiating affection. “Elena, don’t think I don’t know you’re always secretly ordering takeout. It’s not good for your health. Don’t do it again, alright?” Elena playfully stuck out her tongue. Yara remained expressionless, averting her gaze without a word, and turned to head for the door. Suddenly, Westley stood up. “I’ll make her pasta.” “Westley!” Elena’s displeasure was obvious, but Westley was already walking toward the kitchen. She shot Yara a cold glare, rolling her eyes dramatically. At that moment, a housekeeper walked in, holding a cardboard box. “Miss Yara, a package has arrived for you.” Yara stopped in her tracks. “For me?” The housekeeper set the box on the table. “Yes, the recipient’s name is yours.” Yara frowned slightly, confused. She had just returned and hadn’t ordered anything online. Elena’s eyes darted mischievously as she grabbed the box from the table. “Let me see what my dear sister has been shopping for.” She began opening the package while sneering sarcastically. “Yara, you just got back and you’re already shopping online? You must be in quite a good mood.” Before the words were even out of her mouth, a sharp scream suddenly filled the room. Chapter 4 The box flew three meters across the room, landing with a thud. A bloody, mangled mess tumbled out, leaving a crimson streak on the carpet. The housekeeper, trembling, stammered in horror, "A dead rat... how could it be a dead rat..." At that moment, Westley walked out of the kitchen, holding a plate of pasta. He froze at the sight, dropping the plate immediately, and rushed toward Elena. “Elena, are you alright?” He knelt in front of her, gently holding her hands, his expression as tender as if he were handling the most precious treasure. Elena offered a sweet, coquettish smile. “I’m fine, Westley.” Glancing toward Yara, she suddenly pouted, her face full of grievance. “But Yara... she bought that dead rat on purpose to scare me. It nearly gave me a heart attack.” Westley frowned and turned to Yara. “What’s wrong with you? Did prison twist your mind?” Robert’s voice cut through sharply. “How could you be so cruel? Apologize to Elena immediately!” Yara lifted her head, her expression numb. “What makes you so sure I bought the dead rat?” Elena’s voice rose, shrill and indignant. “Who else could it be? Your name was on the box!” Yara’s voice remained calm as she countered, “Have you never received a package from someone else? Just because my name is on it doesn’t mean I ordered it.” Elena hesitated, her expression faltering before twisting into disdain. “Are you saying someone sent it to you? Please, you just got out of prison. Who would bother sending you anything?” Yara let out a sarcastic laugh. “Maybe you can answer that. Without your little stunt, would someone have sent me a dead rat?” Elena’s face flushed crimson. “You’re saying someone else sent it? I say you bought it yourself! Prove it wasn’t you!” “And why should I prove anything?” Yara tilted her chin slightly, her gaze steady. “Under the principle of presumption of innocence, if you think I’m guilty, it’s your job to prove it, not mine to prove my innocence. “Elena Cullen, you’re a lawyer, aren’t you? Don’t you even understand this basic principle?” Standing in the morning light, her figure seemed to glow with an almost sacred aura, exuding a quiet yet commanding dignity. Westley watched her, and for a fleeting moment, it felt as if he were seeing the Yara of the past—the undefeated lawyer. Sharp in her words, clear in her logic, armed with evidence and reason. Every time she spoke, she left her opponents with no room to fight back. Robert stood up, slamming the newspaper onto the coffee table with a loud thud. “Is this a courtroom or a home? Your law license has been revoked! What’s with the act, pretending to be some hotshot attorney?” Yara’s straightened back suddenly sagged, and a faint ache spread through her chest as she stared at her father, whose bias knew no bounds. He was right—she could never be a lawyer again. But wasn’t it because of them that she’d lost everything? The housekeeper nervously pointed to the box. “There’s a note inside… it looks like someone wrote something on it.” Westley strode over and picked it up. His expression shifted, a trace of unease flickering across his face. Elena pressed eagerly, “Westley, what does it say? Read it out loud!” His jaw tightened as he read the note aloud. “Disgraced lawyer Yara Cullen, you’re nothing more than a rat scurrying through the streets. You’ll end up just like this one.” He set the note down and glanced toward Yara, who stood not far away. Her head was bowed, her face as pale as a sheet of paper. Her frail figure looked like it could dissolve into the light at any moment. Something inside Westley twisted sharply. Robert let out a cold snort. “I told you long ago not to become a lawyer. If you’d listened, none of this would’ve happened.” Elena chimed in, “Exactly! This is all your fault! You scared everyone half to death.” Without a word, Yara turned and headed upstairs, her shoulders slumped, her back hunched slightly. Westley’s feet moved on their own. “I’ll go check on her.” “Westley!” Elena pouted, her tone full of grievance. “I was the one who was scared just now…” But her words did nothing to stop him. He disappeared around the corner without looking back. Elena’s gaze darkened. Picking up a throw pillow, she hurled it to the floor in frustration. Chapter 5 Yara sat quietly in her room. The door opened behind her, and Westley stepped inside. “About today… we were wrong to blame you.” Yara didn’t respond. It was as though she hadn’t heard him, or maybe she just didn’t care. She didn’t care about the three of them, so she didn’t care about being wronged or about his apology. Westley felt a hollow ache in his chest. “Yara…” But she remained turned away from him. “Westley, where’s my mattress?” He froze. Yara’s mattress had been a custom-made piece that cost a significant amount. As a lawyer, she spent long hours sitting and reviewing case files, often for stretches that lasted hours on end. Her back injury was severe—so much so that she’d sometimes wake up in pain. On her doctor’s recommendation, she’d had the mattress specially designed to provide corrective support. Westley said nothing. Yara wasn’t surprised. “Elena took it, didn’t she?” Her voice was so calm, like a stagnant pool or an empty well, devoid of life. Westley felt like his chest was stuffed with cotton, suffocating him. “Yara…” The truth was that Yara had already noticed the missing mattress on her first night back from prison. That evening, she’d casually asked Westley, “Why does the mattress feel different than before?” He hadn’t answered, and she hadn’t pressed. The next morning, as she passed by Elena’s room, she overheard voices from inside. “Elena, give your sister her mattress back. She has noticed.” “So what if she has?” Elena’s voice was light, almost mocking. “She’s spent a year in prison. They sleep on wooden boards there. Does she really deserve a luxury mattress like that?” Westley said nothing more after that. Yara knew his silence meant agreement. Because she had been to prison, even sleeping on a decent mattress was deemed too much for her. Yara knew for a long time that her time in prison would become an indelible stain on her life. What she hadn’t expected was for it to become a blade wielded by those closest to her, stabbing directly into her heart. Not content with just the initial wound, they twisted it, over and over, until her heart was left raw and bleeding. … Half a month after Yara’s release from prison, it was Elena’s birthday. Early in the morning, the house was bustling with activity as the servants prepared for the evening’s grand celebration. Yara glanced at the commotion downstairs before turning away with a bitter smile. The third day after her release had been her own birthday. While she was still in prison, she often imagined finally celebrating her birthday at home, surrounded by her family. But when the day arrived, not a single person remembered. She ended up cooking herself a plate of spaghetti, buying the smallest cake she could find, and singing “Happy Birthday” to herself in the dark. “Happy birthday, Yara…” The dim candlelight reflected her face, and she forced a fragile smile. When she blew out the candle, tears streamed down her cheeks. However, Elena’s birthday tonight was a completely different story. The guests had already arrived, even before the official start of the banquet. Elena, dressed in a pastel pink gown with a diamond tiara perched on her head, stood at the center of attention, basking in the adoration of the crowd. Everyone competed to praise her—Robert’s younger daughter, the dazzling rising star of the legal world. Yara stood in a forgotten corner, invisible to them all. Midway through the banquet, a young woman approached Yara with a friendly smile. "I just met Elena recently. Are you one of her friends? May I ask your name?" "I'm Yara Cullen." As soon as the words left her mouth, the girl’s smile vanished without a trace. Rolling her eyes, she turned on her heel and muttered, "So it’s you. Why didn’t you just say so earlier..." Around her, judgmental stares pierced through the crowd like arrows. Suddenly, a man Yara didn’t recognize stepped in front of her. Without a word, he grabbed a glass of red wine from a waiter’s tray. With a quick flick of his wrist, the crimson liquid poured down over her head, soaking her completely. Chapter 6 A low gasp rippled through the crowd, followed by murmurs and stifled laughter. The man threw the wine glass to the ground, the shattering sound sharp and piercing. "Yara Cullen, because of you, all of us lawyers have been dragged through the mud. You’re a disgrace to the profession—a rotten apple spoiling the whole barrel!" The commotion caught the attention of Westley and Elena, who hurried over, both momentarily stunned by the scene. Amid the chaos, a hand emerged from the crowd and gave Yara a hard shove from behind. She stumbled and fell to the ground, her gaze meeting the mocking stares around her, her eyes clouded with confusion and hurt. Elena’s voice dripped with mock sympathy. "Yara, how did you manage to get wine all over yourself? And then you tripped. That’s so clumsy of you. “Honestly, you’re always so careless. No wonder you caused such a disaster with the Crestwood Estate case." Westley cleared his throat, feigning a mild reprimand. "Elena, we’re in public. At least show your sister some respect." Elena pouted, feigning innocence. "But Westley, I’m just being honest. Sometimes I can’t help speaking my mind." His gaze softened, overflowing with indulgence. "That’s just your honest nature." Watching the pair, Yara no longer felt the pain she once did. Only a boundless numbness remained, swallowing her whole like a rising tide. Just as despair threatened to consume her completely, a hand suddenly appeared in front of her. A rich, low voice sounded above her. "Give me your hand. I’ll help you up." Yara looked up, dazed. Through the blur of tears and humiliation, she saw a face impossible to forget—chiseled features, sharp and cold, exuding an air of quiet strength. Herman Lloyd. The name surfaced in her mind like a sudden jolt. Herman was her senior in Hudson University’s law program. He was a living legend. In just two years, he completed the coursework for a four-year degree. While everyone expected him to become a lawyer, Herman surprised them all by switching paths to business and transferring to the business school. After graduation, he took over the family empire. As a businessman, Herman was equally gifted. In just a few short years, he had elevated the Lloyd Group to an entirely new level of success. Fortune Magazine described him as a "next-generation business leader." A low murmur rippled through the crowd: "Herman Lloyd... it’s really him." "He rarely makes public appearances. I can’t believe he’s attending Elena Cullen’s birthday party..." Yara’s eyelashes fluttered slightly at those words. Herman knelt down in front of her, gently taking her wrist to help her up from the floor. From the pocket of his suit jacket, he pulled out a handkerchief and lifted his hand, intending to wipe the wine from her hair. Yara turned her head away, avoiding him. “I can do it myself.” His hand froze for a moment, but he didn’t insist. “Alright, you do it yourself.” Elena approached Herman, her face glowing with astonishment and delight. “Mr. Lloyd, it’s such an honor to have you here!” In truth, she had no idea why Herman came to her party. Her law firm had collaborated with the Lloyd Group before, and she had dressed to the nines for the meetings, hoping to impress. But she hadn’t even caught a glimpse of him. Rumors painted Herman as cold and detached, someone who rarely interacted with others. Elena thought those rumors were true. So tonight, seeing Herman at her birthday party was something Elena wouldn’t have dared to dream of. Herman cast her only a fleeting glance before shifting his gaze to Westley by her side. The icy look in Herman’s eyes unsettled Westley, who awkwardly greeted him, “Mr. Lloyd.” Herman didn’t respond, not even a word. At that moment, his assistant approached, handing him a phone. “Mr. Lloyd, you have an important call.” Herman glanced at Yara once more before turning and walking away. The crowd, sensing the tension dissipate, began to disperse. Westley lowered his head and asked Yara, “Yara, are you alright?” She didn’t respond. Without a word, she turned and walked away. Westley instinctively wanted to follow her, but Elena clung to his arm. “Westley, where are you going? Everyone’s waiting for us to open the dance floor.” He hesitated for a moment before saying, “Alright, I’ll stay with you.” Elena beamed with satisfaction, her smile radiating smug contentment. Chapter 7 Yara returned to her room, took a shower, and didn’t go back downstairs. The noise from below gradually faded—it seemed the banquet had come to an end. Just as she was getting ready to sleep, her phone buzzed with a message from Elena. “Yara, come to my room. I have a gift for you.” Yara left her room and approached Elena’s door, but before she could knock, she heard hushed voices from inside. "Elena, don’t do this. Your sister is right next door." "She’s asleep. What are you afraid of? Ever since she came back, you haven’t touched me. Westley, I’ve missed you." "Elena, it wouldn’t be good if your sister overheard." "Westley, are you really that scared of her?" It sounded like Elena was crying now, her voice thick with emotion. "Westley, tell me the truth. Since she came back, have you been sleeping with her again? You promised me I was the only one..." "I haven’t touched her," Westley said, his voice a mix of helplessness and tenderness. "Elena, don’t cry. You’ve seen the scar on her forehead. Do you really think I could feel anything for her now?" Elena let out a soft laugh. "I knew it. You always treat me the best. You’re so good to me, I have to repay you. Westley, stay still. Let me take care of you." "Elena, you’re willing to do this? I don’t want you to feel wronged..." "I don’t mind. Westley, you’re a man, and men have needs. I’m happy to do this for you." Inside the room, the sound of whispered, intimate voices continued. "Westley, tell me—who’s prettier? Me or my sister?" "You." "Who makes you feel better? Me or her?" "You." "Then who do you love more? Me or her?" "Of course, it’s you, Elena. Faster..." Yara felt a loud buzzing in her ears, drowning out everything else. Her entire body stiffened, as though even her blood had stopped flowing. Stumbling, Yara made her way back to her room. She sat by the window, staring blankly into the pitch-black night for what felt like an eternity. She thought that no matter how despicable Westley might be, he would at least hold onto some semblance of decency. But she overestimated him. In the early hours of the morning, just as Yara had finally closed her eyes, the buzzing of her phone jolted her awake. The messages were from Elena: "Yara, you heard it all, didn’t you? Your mattress and your husband—they’re both mine now." "Let me tell you the truth. While you were rotting in prison, Westley and I spent almost every night together." "Oh, my dear sister, it seems you couldn’t satisfy your husband. Otherwise, why would he act like a starving wolf in my bed?" "Your career, your father, your husband—they’re all mine now, Yara. I’ll make sure everyone knows that the only thing separating us was that you had a rich mother. You’ve never been better than me!" Yara’s hands trembled uncontrollably, and she almost lost it, ready to throw her phone across the room. It took her a long while to steady her breathing, and her thoughts gradually became clearer. Elena wasn’t wrong—Yara had a wealthy mother. But what Elena failed to understand was that the comfortable life she now enjoyed wasn’t thanks to their idle father. It was entirely due to the inheritance Yara’s mother left behind. Her mother had been forward-thinking, foreseeing the possibility of her daughter being wronged. She included a special clause in her will, ensuring Yara’s protection. And now, that clause had been activated. Yara opened her contacts and called Michael Baker, the family lawyer. The phone rang only twice before Michael answered, his tone exceptionally respectful. "Miss Cullen, how can I assist you?" "Mr. Baker, it’s time to enforce the supplementary clause in my mother’s will.” "Are you certain, Miss Cullen?" "I’m certain." With those two words, Yara ended the call. Chapter 8 In the pitch-black room, Yara lay staring blankly at the ceiling. Scenes from the past few years flashed before her eyes like a movie reel. She had long since lost the concept of having a father. And now, she had no intention of keeping her husband either. … That night, Yara slept exceptionally well. The next morning, sunlight was streaming through the windows by the time she finally got up. After taking her time washing up, she headed downstairs. The first thing she heard was Elena wailing hysterically: "Who told you to come here? Why are you digging up my chamomile plants? I still need them for my tea!" At the villa’s front gate, a group of workers was busily digging up the lush chamomile plants, pulling them out by the roots with practiced efficiency. Elena screamed, but the workers didn’t so much as glance her way, acting as though they couldn’t hear her. Yara strolled into the living room, crossed her legs, and settled onto the sofa. Taking a sip of the freshly brewed tea that the housekeeper had just brought her, she said calmly, "I told them to." Elena froze, then stormed over, her fury barely contained. "Yara! What gives you the right? That’s my chamomile plants!" Leaning comfortably against the sofa, Yara glanced up at her and smiled faintly. "What gives me the right? Nothing, really. I just find your chamomile plants an eyesore." Elena stood there, stunned for a good half minute before bursting into louder sobs. "Yara, you’re doing this on purpose! You’re just trying to make my life miserable!" Yara nodded, her tone light and mocking. "You’re absolutely right, Elena. I am trying to make your life miserable." Elena froze again, her face twisting with rage. "Yara! You’re just a criminal. How dare you act so arrogant? Did prison teach you nothing? Do you want to end up back there?" The faint smile on Yara’s face vanished. She stood up, her expression cold and unreadable as she stared Elena down. "Elena, prison isn’t exactly a pleasant experience. So, unless you want to find yourself in one for defamation, you’d better watch your mouth." Elena’s sobs caught in her throat. She stared at Yara, wide-eyed, as though looking at a stranger. For the first time, Elena felt like Yara was a completely different person—someone she never knew. The Yara standing before them now was nothing like the woman who used to swallow her pride and endure everything in silence. Her entire demeanor exuded sharpness, a quiet intensity that was almost intimidating. Yara saw the confusion and fear in Elena’s eyes and responded with a faint smile. Starting today, she would never compromise herself again. Her past concessions had stemmed from care—caring about her father, caring about Westley, and avoiding conflict with Elena. But now, she cared about none of it. And they could forget about controlling her ever again. As the two of them stood locked in silence, a deep voice came from behind. “Elena, why are you crying?” There was no need to turn around; Yara knew it was Robert. Elena immediately threw herself into their father’s arms. “Dad, Yara had my chamomile plants torn out! Those were the ones you worked so hard to grow for me!” Robert’s heart ached for his younger daughter. “Don’t cry, Elena. The chamomile plants can be replanted. Don’t worry, I will make sure justice is served for you!” He lifted his head and turned to Yara, launching into a tirade. "Yara, you’ve been picking on your sister again while I wasn’t here! You’ll apologize to her right now! Then go outside and replant every single chamomile plant, or don’t blame me for taking harsher measures!" Yara watched as the two put on their little “father-daughter” show in front of her. Then she watched her father’s expression turn cold toward her with a speed that could rival flipping a page in a book. The irony of it all was almost laughable. Her voice was lazy and unhurried as she said, “Dad, I’m not apologizing. As for replanting the chamomile…” She deliberately paused, letting the suspense linger. Both Robert and Elena perked up their ears, waiting for her answer. Yara suddenly laughed, her tone returning to its usual nonchalance. "It’s not impossible. As long as you replant my mother’s peach tree, I’ll replant Elena’s chamomile." Robert’s frown deepened. "What kind of joke is this? That peach tree was thrown out ages ago. How am I supposed to get it back?" The smile on Yara’s lips froze. That tree was planted by her mother when Yara was five years old. Yara had always been frail as a child, constantly plagued by minor illnesses. Her mother, believing peach trees warded off evil spirits, planted it with care and devotion, praying for her daughter’s lifelong safety. A wife’s heartfelt gesture and a mother’s love for her child—yet to Robert, it was nothing more than trash to be carelessly discarded. Yara’s hand, hanging at her side, slowly curled into a fist. Chapter 9 Yara turned to face her father, her expression cold and unreadable. "Then there’s nothing I can do. The chamomile plants have been thrown out like trash. How do you expect me to replant it?" Robert clutched his chest in anger. "You ungrateful daughter! You’re doing this on purpose to defy me!" Elena rushed to his side, tears streaming down her face as she supported him. "Dad, Yara’s gone too far this time! She’s trying to push you to the brink!" Robert coughed heavily, his trembling hand pointing accusingly at Yara. "I’ll pretend I never had a daughter like you. Get out! Get out of this house right now!" Yara shrugged nonchalantly. "If you don’t want me as your daughter, that’s fine. Honestly, I don’t want you as my father either. But as for leaving this house? Sorry, that’s not happening." She took a step closer, her gaze sharp as a blade. "Dad, you must be getting old and forgetful. Have you forgotten? This house is in my name. It’s part of the inheritance my mother left me." Her voice was calm, yet merciless. "Someone does need to leave this house, but it’s not me. It’s you two." She raised her hand and pointed directly at Robert and Elena. Both of them froze, stunned into silence. Elena’s voice trembled with unease. "Dad, Yara must be out of her mind. What is she even talking about?" As an illegitimate daughter, Elena knew little about the Cullen family’s affairs. When Robert brought her to this grand estate for the first time, her eyes lit up with wonder. She instinctively assumed that all this luxury belonged to her father. But in truth, everything—every business, every piece of property—belonged to Yara’s mother. Yara’s maternal grandfather was a renowned entrepreneur, and her mother grew up as the cherished only child of a wealthy family. Robert, on the other hand, was nothing more than a husband who married into the family. Yara’s mother, kind and considerate, allowed the children to take their father’s surname to protect his pride. But aside from that, every asset belonged to her. Robert let out a dismissive snort. "So what if this house is in your name? If needed, I’ll just buy a new one." Turning to Elena, his expression softened with fatherly affection. "Elena, we’ve lived in this house for so many years, it’s getting boring. Let’s go buy a new one right now—something even better." Elena glanced around at the opulence surrounding them, her reluctance evident. "Dad, is this house really Yara’s?" Robert fell silent. Elena’s heart sank. She hadn’t expected it to be true. Regaining her composure, she lifted her chin and sneered at Yara. "Fine, then! We’ll leave right now and get an even bigger, better house. You can stay here alone like the lonely spinster you are!" Yara didn’t react to Elena’s taunts. Instead, she smiled, a calm, knowing smile that seemed to pierce right through Elena, as if she already knew Elena’s triumph would be short-lived. For reasons she couldn’t explain, Elena felt a wave of unease. She clung tightly to Robert’s arm like a lifeline. "Dad, promise me, okay?" Robert patted her head affectionately. "Of course, sweetheart. Whatever you want, I’ll make it happen." The two turned to leave, only to run into Michael as he entered the house. Michael stopped Robert in his tracks. "Mr. Cullen, the supplementary clause of your late wife’s will requires your presence to proceed." Robert froze. "Supplementary clause? What clause? The will was settled years ago!" He wasn’t wrong—Yara’s mother’s will was executed shortly after her passing. Eighty percent of her assets had been left to her only daughter, Yara, while the remaining twenty percent went to her husband. Even that twenty percent was an astronomical sum, more than enough to ensure Robert lived in luxury for the rest of his life. And live luxuriously he did. Over the years, he squandered his wealth with reckless abandon, indulging in extravagance and racking up massive gambling debts. What he hadn’t anticipated was that such a lifestyle could be taken away at any moment. The power to decide now lay in the hands of the daughter he had long ignored.