Shopia

Phoenix Rising: The Scarred Heiress's Revenge

Xiao Hong Mao

I lived as the "scarred ghost" of the Stephens penthouse, a wife kept in the shadows because my facial burns offended my billionaire husband's aesthetic. For years, I endured Kason's coldness and my family's abuse, a submissive puppet who believed she had nowhere else to go. The end came with a blue folder tossed onto my silk sheets. Kason's mistress was back, and he wanted me out by sunset, offering a five-million-dollar "silence fee" to go hide my face in the countryside. The betrayal cut deep when I discovered my father had already traded my divorce for a corporate bailout. My step-sister mocked my "trashy" appearance at a high-end boutique, while the sales staff treated me like a common thief. At home, my father threatened to cut off my mother's life-saving medicine unless I crawled back to Kason to beg for a better deal. I was the girl who took the blame for a fire she didn't start, the wife who worshipped a man who never looked her in the eye, and the daughter used as a human bargaining chip. I was supposed to be broken, penniless, and desperate. But the woman who stood up wasn't the weak Elease Finch anymore; she was Phoenix, a tactical predator with a $500 million secret. I signed the divorce papers without a single tear, walked past my stunned husband, and wiped the Finch family's bank accounts clean with a few taps on my phone. "Your money is dirty," I told Kason with a cold smile. "I prefer clean hands." The cage is open, the hunt has begun, and I'm starting with the people who thought a scar made me weak.

Modern Revenge

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In a large, dark room of a five-star hotel, the curtain was firmly closed. Dirty dishes were scattered on the table. Red wine had spilled over the floor, which had totally soaked the carpet. In the dim light, two figures could be seen on the messy bed. The woman dug her fingers into the man's hair and gave in to his power. She completely lost herself to sexual pleasure as her body shook with desire.

She had been looking forward to this moment for a long time. How could she easily let him go this time? Her charming body rippled. She tried her best to follow him and wanted to keep him.

The man tightly hugged the woman, and they tossed around on the bed for hours. It appeared that he was also beginning to sink into the moment. Either that or he was drunk now and didn't know who she was, and so it no longer mattered to him.

The noises that could be heard from outside the room were unbearably painful for the listener.

Sarah sat on the sofa outside. She could clearly hear the sound from the room even without looking towards it. The door was open, so she could see them from the mirror on the opposite wall.

Her heart was broken. The man inside was her boss, and she loved him dearly. The woman inside the room was his mistress. She couldn't say anything about what they did in the hotel because she was just a secretary, inferior to a mistress. Why did he show it to her? Why? He clearly knew she loved him.

Sarah grasped the sofa tightly and dug her fingernails into the leather. Despite how sharp the pain was that now coursed through her fingers, it failed to distract her from the deeper pain in her heart.

Finally, the alarm clock on the coffee table rang; it had been requested by Charles. He needed to leave the hotel at three o'clock because he had an important meeting in half an hour. As his secretary, Sarah, must remind him. Even if he had a private rendezvous with his mistress, Sarah had to follow him. She couldn't understand why he wanted her to see that scene. Even if he didn't love her, he could at least consider her feelings, Sarah thought to herself.

Sarah held back her tears, but it was futile. She quickly wiped her tears away, tidied herself up, and plucked up the courage to walk into their room.

She dared not even look at them. She just knocked on the door and politely announced, "Sir, it's three o'clock. We need to be going back to the company."

It seemed that they were both satisfied. Thomas Charles was lying on the bed and smoking. His chiseled face could be clearly seen in the dim light. He was so handsome and perfect, particularly when smoking. His messy hair also made him even sexier.

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