SLAP.
The sound of a sharp slap echoed through the room. Mia's cheek stung from the blow, pain radiating across her skin. But the ache in her heart hurt far more than the burn on her face.
Her heart was already shattered by the way her father had treated her—so heartlessly, so unfairly.
"I'm sorry, Mia. I lost control. But no matter what, she's your mother now. You should call her 'Mom,' not… not use that kind of language," said Jerry, now regretting his action, his hand still trembling from the slap he had given her.
"That woman is not my mother," Mia snapped, her eyes blazing. "I only have one mother—Mama Ana. No one else. And if you think she doesn't deserve to be called a tramp, then tell me—what else should I call her?!"
"A cheap woman—that's what she is. She seduced a married man and destroyed someone else's family. She deserves every word I said," Mia spat, glaring at her father as she clutched her burning cheek, which had turned red from the force of the slap.
Jerry listened to Mia's outburst and could only let out a long sigh. He clenched his fists, forcing himself to keep calm, to not raise his hand a second time.
"I have to control myself… If I don't, Mia might refuse to come back with me," he thought, trying to manage his anger.
"That's enough, Mia. I don't want to fight with you," Jerry said, his voice softer now. "I just want to bring you back with me—to help me pay for your sister's university. I'm getting old… I can't earn like I used to."
Mia clenched her jaw, her heart burning with frustration. Deep down, she knew—she was just going to become an ATM for her father's new family.
If not for the plan she had long prepared, she would never have agreed to be part of this twisted arrangement.
"You spent all my mother's money… and now you want to use me as your money machine? Fine," Mia hissed, jabbing a finger into Jerry's chest before turning her back to him and grabbing a glass of water.
"Let's just say I'm doing this as a debt of gratitude—for bringing me into this cruel world. But once that debt is paid… I'm done with you. Don't come near me again. And don't ever dare call me your daughter."
She drank deeply, the cold water soothing her dry throat.
"Say whatever you want," Jerry replied bitterly. "I'm done arguing with you."
He turned toward the door and started walking.
"I'll wait for you in the car. Hurry and pack your things. We need to get back to the city before nightfall. The roads here are tricky—I don't want us to end up in an accident," he added as he stepped out.
After Mr. Jerry left, Mia quickly packed all her belongings. She made sure to tuck a photo of her mother and Grandma Shen into her suitcase.
"Mother, Grandma… I promise I will make him pay for what he did to you. And I swear, I'll take back the house that woman stole," Mia thought as she hugged the photo tightly to her chest.
"I'm going to miss this house… So many memories here with Mom and Grandma," she whispered, casting one last look around the room filled with warmth and history.
With determined steps, Mia walked toward Aunt Suni and Mr. Jon. Both of them looked heartbroken, knowing Mia was about to leave the village behind.
"Aunt, Mr. Jon… I entrust this house to you. I'll be going to the city with my father," Mia said, handing the house key to Aunt Suni.
"Very well, Miss. Please take care of yourself there. I will always pray for you," Aunt Suni replied, hugging Mia tightly like she was her own granddaughter.
"Mr. Jon," Mia called softly, her eyes filled with emotion as she looked at the old man.
"Miss, this jade stone was given by Grandma Shen. It's a family heirloom of the Shen family. She asked me to give it to you… in case something ever happened," Mr. Jon said, gently placing the jade stone into Mia's hand.
"Thank you, Mr. Jon… Aunt Suni. I'll be leaving now," said Mia, stepping toward Jerry Xiao's car.
And with that, Mia and Jerry Xiao left the village and headed to the city. Though her heart was heavy, she had to go. There was too much at stake, too much she needed to do.
Eventually, they arrived in the city. The long journey was filled with an uncomfortable silence. Neither father nor daughter spoke a word—each lost in their own memories and wounds.
Night had fallen by the time they reached the house—the very same house that once belonged to Mia's late mother. But now, it looked entirely different.
At the front door, two women were waiting—both smiling sweetly on the surface, but with eyes sharp as knives.
"Look, Mom," whispered Agnes, eyeing Mia from head to toe with thinly veiled scorn. "So this is the daughter of that woman. Her face is so plain. She's no competition for me when it comes to charming rich, handsome men in this city."
Bu Yanti responded with a sly smile, gently stroking her daughter's cheek. "Don't worry, sweetheart. That country girl is no match for you. You're my beautiful girl. Besides… if your father didn't need money from her mother's inheritance, that bumpkin would've never been brought back here."
"But don't worry," she added with a cunning tone. "Your father's love and attention will always belong to you. That girl is nothing more than… our walking ATM."
Mia stared at them—two different faces with the same bitter eyes. She heard every whisper. But she stayed silent. Her expression was cold, her demeanor distant—not out of indifference, but because she had learned to be numb.
She stepped into the house, followed by her father, her stepmother, and her stepsister—who now acted like they ruled the place.
The house… no longer felt like home.
Its interior had changed drastically. Every corner bore the touch of Bu Yanti—stiff, cold, and unfamiliar.
"Mom… I'm finally back in your house," Mia whispered in her heart, her eyes sweeping across the room that once overflowed with warm memories of her mother.
Mr. Jerry broke her reverie. "Your room is downstairs now. Agnes is using your old one."
Mia turned slowly. Her gaze was cold, sharp.
"No problem. I'm used to people taking what belongs to me," she replied flatly, her words dripping with subtle venom.
"I'm going to my room. I don't have much time to spend with all of you," she added, walking past Bu Yanti and Agnes.
As she passed by them, her voice dropped into a low whisper—loud enough for them to hear.
"Trash. Both mother and daughter—always taking what's not theirs."
Bu Yanti and Agnes flinched. Their eyes flared with fury, but Mia didn't look back. She simply walked away, heading to the guest room—uncertain what it even looked like now.
Agnes clenched her teeth. It hadn't even been a full day, and Mia was already a thorn in her side.
"Calm down, sweetheart," Bu Yanti whispered, holding her daughter close. "We won't let her win. I promise."
Agnes gave a small nod, but inside, jealousy was already burning hot. She watched Mia's back disappear down the hall toward the room downstairs.
To Agnes, Mia wasn't just an unwanted guest—she was a threat. A threat to her comfort, her control over the house, her father's attention… and the inheritance they still hadn't fully claimed.
But what cut deepest of all was this: Mia was the biological daughter of Jerry's first wife—the woman he had once loved deeply.
Agnes stood in the hallway, eyes narrowing with calculation. She knew Mia wasn't an ordinary girl. That cold stare, the calm yet cutting words—this wasn't someone she could crush with cheap tricks.
But Agnes wasn't about to back down.
"If she wants a war," she murmured, "I'll be the enemy she never saw coming."
That night, beneath the grand facade of a house that no longer had a soul, two young women lay in their rooms—each lost in entirely different thoughts.
Mia, in her small, cold room downstairs, stared at the empty ceiling while clutching the locket that once belonged to her late mother. She knew life in this house would be hard.
But she wasn't here for affection—she came with a purpose.
Meanwhile, Agnes, lounging in the luxurious bedroom that used to be Mia's, was plotting the first moves of a game soon to begin. A game of poison, fake smiles, and an invisible war.
And in this game, there could only be one winner.
Only one would remain in this house as the true queen.