Chapter 3

Inside the hall, a pure white fox-fur coat I'd left behind was draped carelessly over the solid-gold tiger-hide throne. Big Dad had personally gone to some frozen wasteland to hunt down a snow fox just to have that coat made for me.

At the foot of the throne lay a one-of-a-kind emerald chessboard, something Third Dad had tracked down just to keep me entertained. There were even a few diamonds scattered across the rosewood side table, each the size of a pigeon egg. They were toys Fourth Dad had tossed me to play marbles with.

Wendy's eyes practically turned green with greed as she stared at the walls packed with top-grade weapons and crates of gold bars.

"Vincent, if Noelle really pissed off Wicked Valley's princess, we can offer her up to Mr. Shaw as a sacrifice. Once we calm his wrath, our family will be set for life!" Her voice shook with excitement.

Vincent's eyes burned with fanatic greed as he clamped both hands down on my shoulders. "Being able to trade her life for our family's riches and glory—it's her honor!"

I looked on coldly as the siblings reveled in their victory, my gaze so calm that it was as if I were already looking at corpses.

"Have you ever considered that the person you dragged in here isn't a scapegoat, but the Grim Reaper herself?"

Scarface whipped his head around and locked his eyes on me. In that instant, for reasons he couldn't explain, a chill crawled up his spine. My haughty, fearless arrogance looked far too much like the expression my 18 dads wore right before their wrath descended.

"Mr. Scar, this portrait…"

Vincent stared fixedly at the huge portrait hanging behind the armchair. On the right arm of the young woman in the painting was a blood-red phoenix tattoo identical to mine. His voice shook when he finally realized something was off.

Scarface's gaze flicked back and forth between the portrait and me, suspicion written all over his face. Could I really be…

"What's all this noise about? Disturb the bosses inside, and you'll all suffer fates worse than death."

A spoiled, arrogant female voice abruptly cut through Scarface's doubts. A woman in a custom red designer dress stepped out in high heels, carrying herself like she owned the place.

She was Josie Brown, the illegitimate daughter of Tom Brown, the head of Division 3. She spent all day dreaming of replacing me as the Valley's princess.

Her eyes swept over Vincent and Wendy in disgust before finally landing on me.

Scarface immediately sheathed his blade and bent over with a flattering smile. "Ms. Brown, this is the offering brought in to calm Mr. Shaw's wrath."

Josie walked closer. The second she saw my face, a twisted, violent jealousy exploded in her eyes. She stared at my features, which were a hundred times more striking than hers, and clenched her jaw.

"What cheap little street rat thinks she deserves a tattoo like that?" she hissed.

She didn't recognize me. I wasn't surprised. My 18 dads were so overprotective of me, after all. The illegitimate daughter of an unimportant division leader hardly qualified to see me.

"What are you staring at? Keep looking, and I'll gouge your eyes out!" Josie raised her hand, ready to slap me.

I abruptly tore free of Vincent's grip and, in one sharp motion, slapped her across the face first. The force sent her stumbling back, blood instantly welling at the corner of her lips.

I looked down at her, my gaze contemptuous and sharp. "You think you're worthy of touching my face?"

"How dare you hit me?" Josie shrieked, cupping her cheek. "Terence Shaw is my godfather! I'll have you chopped into pieces and fed to the dogs!"

I sneered. "Terence has to grovel at my feet when he sees me."

The words were barely out of my mouth when Vincent kicked me hard in the back of the knee, desperate to curry favor with Josie.

The crack of bone echoed clearly.

A muffled grunt escaped my throat as I crashed hard to the floor, cold sweat soaking through my clothes in an instant.

Vincent ground his heel into my face and groveled to Josie. "Ms. Brown, please don't get mad! This wretch is nothing but a lunatic. Do whatever you want with her!"

Josie smiled cruelly. She pulled out a knife, pressing the tip of the blade to my cheek and slowly dragging it toward the phoenix tattoo on my right arm.

"I'll destroy this pretty little face and that disgusting tattoo for my dear godfather."

The blade pierced my skin, and blood spilled out. I swallowed the taste of iron rising in my throat and locked my eyes on the doors to the inner hall.

Then, I gathered every ounce of strength I had to roar, "Terence Shaw! Your daughter's about to be carved up alive out here! Are you still going to play dead in there?"

The entire hall went dead silent.