4

Niana wiped the tears streaming down her cheeks. she cast her gaze toward the window, where the Manhattan drizzle tonight felt like icy needles piercing her skin.

Niana sat in the back seat of a yellow taxi that smelled of cheap orange air freshener. She carried nothing but her handbag and the gaping wound in her chest.

Three years I lived in your lies, Sean.

A suffocating tightness hit her chest again, forcing Niana to take a deep breath so she wouldn't break down into sobs in front of the taxi driver. Her hand slowly lowered, trembling as it brushed against her still-flat stomach.

Niana’s mind immediately drifted back to the events of three days ago at St. Jude Memorial Hospital. The sharp scent of antiseptic back then had made her lightheaded, right before the doctor handed her a still-warm ultrasound printout.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Miller. You are eight weeks along. The fetus is very healthy,” the doctor’s words echoed in her mind once more.

Three days ago, she had wept tears of joy looking at that tiny dot on the black-and-white paper. She had intentionally hidden the news, planning to make it the ultimate surprise on their anniversary. She had imagined Sean crying tears of happiness and wrapping his arms tightly around her. But tonight, reality slapped her without mercy.

I am carrying your child, Sean, and you are out there celebrating my stepmother’s pregnancy... How ironic fate is.

"We’ve arrived, Miss. The Blind Tiger Bar," the driver’s voice broke her reverie.

Niana paid the fare with hands that were still slightly trembling, then stepped out. The bar was small, tucked away in a hidden corner of Greenwich Village, with a neon sign that flickered lazily. This was no place for a socialite like Niana Miller, but it was the only place where she could find her only remaining flesh and blood.

The clinking of glasses and low jazz music greeted Niana as she pushed open the heavy wooden door. Behind the dark bar counter, a young girl with a platinum blonde pixie cut and a small nose piercing was busy shaking a cocktail shaker.

That was Luna, Niana’s biological sister. The only person who knew that behind the great Prescott name, there was a wound they shared together.

Luna looked up, her sharp eyes widening instantly when she saw her sister standing there—pale, drenched, and with swollen eyes. Luna set the glass down and vaulted over the counter.

"Niana?!" Luna gripped her sister’s shoulders, her eyes scanning Niana’s face with concern. "What happened? Why are you here this late? And... you’re soaking wet! Where is Sean? Where is that arrogant bastard?"

Niana could only shake her head weakly. Her voice seemed swallowed by the pain. "Luna... I... I want to go home to Mother."

Luna stunned. The word "Mother" had been a forbidden word for years since Niana chose to live with their Father and Patricia. "Okay, I won't say anything regarding the choice you actually made a long time ago."

"I have nowhere else to go, Luna," Niana whispered, a single tear finally falling. "Everything is ruined. Sean... he betrayed me with Patricia."

Luna’s face flushed crimson with rage. Her teeth lurched. "That bastard... I’ll kill him!" However, seeing Niana’s near-fainting condition, Luna suppressed her emotions. She immediately reached for her phone, dialing a number she rarely contacted.

"Hello? Code Red. Pick up Niana at The Blind Tiger now. Bring a full security unit. Right now!"

Twenty minutes later, two black Cadillac Escalades with bulletproof glass pulled up right in front of the bar. Four stout men in black suits stepped out, forming a protective line as Niana exited the bar. Luna wrapped an arm around her sister’s shoulder, escorting her into the car.

"Go, Sis. Mother is waiting for you. I’ll follow after my shift is over," Luna said softly while kissing Niana’s forehead.

The car sped through the streets of New York, heading north toward an area inhabited only by those with unfathomable wealth. They passed through massive, heavily guarded iron gates before a magnificent sight finally met Niana’s eyes.

--

The Van Doren Mansion.

This was not just a luxury home like Sean Miller’s. This was a modern palace built of white Carrara marble and bulletproof glass. Giant pillars towered high, and the fountain in the front yard emitted an elegant blue glow. The light from inside the mansion was so bright, it was as if the sun were intentionally kept there.

The four-meter-high double doors opened automatically. Niana stepped into the main hall. The floor was made of natural stone so polished that she could see the reflection of her messy face. In the middle of the beautifully curved grand staircase stood a woman.

Valerie Van Doren.

Her mother wore a maroon silk housegown with a fur cloak draped over her shoulders. The emerald jewelry at her neck sparkled, yet it was no sharper than the gaze in her eyes. Valerie looked down at her daughter from the top of the stairs with a very thin, cynical smile—a bitter smile of victory.

"So you finally feel it too, Niana?" Valerie’s voice echoed in the vast hall, calm yet full of authority. "You finally realize how rotten the environment you defended so desperately truly is?"

Niana looked down, not daring to meet her mother’s eyes. "Mom..."

Valerie stepped down with the grace of a queen. Every step produced a commanding click on the marble floor. "I told you from the beginning, Sean Miller is nothing but a hungry little rat. He didn't see you as a woman, but as the key to the Prescott gold mine. And you? You were too naive, exactly like your late father who followed every direction from that foul whore Patricia!"

Valerie now stood directly in front of Niana. Instead of hugging her, she merely tilted Niana’s chin up with fingers adorned with a large diamond ring.

"Your father was too stubborn. He thought he could 'sell' you to the Miller family to save his bankrupt pride without asking my permission," Valerie hissed. "He forbade me from speaking, he kept you away from me because he knew I could see your husband's foul intentions from day one."

"I’m sorry, Mom," Niana murmured in a hoarse voice.

Valerie released Niana’s chin, then turned her back to her daughter, staring at the Van Doren ancestral portrait hanging on the wall. "Don't apologize to me. Apologize to yourself for letting trash like Sean trample on the Van Doren blood flowing through your veins."

Valerie fell silent for a moment, then turned slightly. "But at least you’ve come home to the right place. In this house, Sean Miller is nothing more than an insect I can crush with a snap of my fingers."

Niana felt a strange sense of protection behind her mother's sharp words. Amidst her ruin, she realized she had just returned to a true empire.

"Clean yourself up. The servants have prepared your old room," Valerie said coldly as she walked toward her study. "Starting tomorrow, there is no more weak Niana Miller. There will only be Niana Van Doren. And we will make sure Sean Miller crawls at your feet to beg for his very breath."