Too Late for Redemption

The moment I was tossed onto the road for everyone to see, I became the butt of everyone's joke.

The real heiress of the Marlins—that was me—got into a fight with the fake daughter, and my parents froze my cards as punishment. In a fit of rage, I left home. It seemed like an act of bold defiance, but I had to take out illegal loans, and I failed to pay them back.

And thanks to that, I was tortured. The story flew through high society like it had wings. Somehow, they found out where I was left and gathered around me, taking my pictures without a care in the world.

Unlike the old me, I did not scream or tell everyone to get lost. I didn't try to save the scraps of my dignity. It was gone. The loan sharks eroded it a long time ago.

The moment they made me go on my knees and slap myself, I stopped caring about things like dignity or appearances. The proud, haughty, troublemaking Yvonne Marlin was dead.

Her killers? The Marlins and Lawrence Seinfield. They destroyed what pride I had.

Then, a fleet of black SUVs came zooming onto the scene. The onlookers—all daughters of rich families—scattered. The leading vehicle seemed almost humble, but I knew who was inside—Lawrence, my fiance.

I looked at the car in silence and turned around. I wanted to leave, but then a man in a suit came out. He hurried over to me, but when he saw what I looked like, it surprised him.

I knew I was haggard, to say the least. I was in a black dress for my grandfather's funeral, and it was covered in filth. My right hand was full of bruises. Bruises I got from those loan sharks stomping on it.

A dirty glove covered my left hand, and my feet had no shoes covering them. My toes were red and swollen. The loan sharks grabbed my ankle and slammed my toes into the stairs. It hurt. A lot.

The man looked down with sympathy in his eyes. Or at least I thought it was sympathy. Politely, he said, "Mr. Seinfield is waiting for you, Ms. Marlin."

I hung my head low, refusing to look at Lawrence's secretary. I mumbled, "I can walk by myself." I went past the secretary.

The secretary was shocked. Everyone knew I thought of Lawrence as my personal messiah, and I'd been hanging around him for five years. Even if he ignored me, I'd try my best to get close to him.

Or that was what happened in the past. Now? He was nothing more than a fearsome beast I wanted to get away from. Naturally, the sudden change shocked the secretary.

"Yvonne!" A husky voice spoke, and it made me stop.

The secretary noticed my eyes. They were red and proof that I had cried. Even so, he only hesitated for a moment before pointing me to the car.

I dragged my exhausted body and ignored the secretary, who obviously wanted to talk to me, and I trudged into the car.

Yep, Lawrence was inside, just as I had expected. He did not even care about why or how I looked like I just got out of a torture chamber. Instead, he frowned.

Displeased, he asked, "It's only been two weeks. You're reduced to a lowly beggar now?"

His mockery did not hit me like it used to. I wasn't even disappointed about his blatant ignoring of my bruises. I kept my head low and said, "Sorry."

I never wanted to take out any illegal loans. I was duped into it. I never wanted to be tortured, nor would I have asked to slap myself. Did he think I wanted to be tied to a wall like a dog and lick up scraps from the ground? I never wanted to! They forced me!