Chapter 3

"Tell me who put you up to this, Devia!" Camelia growled. Her grip was so tight that her knuckles turned white, and her ragged breaths fanned hotly against the other woman's face.

Instead of looking frightened, a faint, mocking smile curled at the corner of Devia's lips. She narrowed her eyes at Camelia with blatant disdain, as though the hard slap she had received only moments ago meant absolutely nothing.

"So after coming back from abroad, you've started acting like an executioner, huh?" Devia let out a sarcastic chuckle, her voice sweet yet venomous. She made no attempt to break free from Camelia's grip. "No wonder your own father hates you so much, Camelia. You don't have a single ounce of gentleness."

Those words were like gasoline poured onto the fire raging inside Camelia's chest. Her eyes flashed sharply, radiating pure fury that threatened to destroy everything in its path. Her jaw tightened. Instead of letting go, she yanked harder on Devia's collar, pulling the woman forward.

"Don't you dare bring my family into this!" Camelia hissed, her voice low but unmistakably intimidating. "Now tell me who ordered you to do this, or I'll make your parents bankrupt overnight!"

At the threat, the mocking smile instantly vanished from Devia's face. Her cheeks, still red from the slap, suddenly turned pale. She knew exactly what Camelia was capable of. Despite being sent overseas, Camelia remained the rightful heir to her late mother's fortune, which controlled a significant portion of the financial sector. If Camelia wished, withdrawing every investment from the logistics company owned by Devia's family would be effortless. Fear slowly crept into her heart, overpowering her pride.

"A-Alright! Let me go!" Devia stammered, her eyes darting nervously toward Camelia's hand still gripping her collar.

Camelia shoved Devia backward, sending her collapsing onto the plush sofa before standing over her with her arms folded across her chest, silently waiting for an answer.

With trembling hands, Devia straightened her rumpled bathrobe before finally lifting her head, her eyes burning with resentment.

"Vivian... Vivian was the one who told me to send you into a random man's bed! She gave me the drug and ordered me to book Room 404!"

The moment she heard that name, a dry laugh escaped Camelia's lips. She smiled bitterly as she looked up at the apartment ceiling, disbelief mixing with a strange sense of satisfaction. Vivian. Her two-faced stepsister had intended to ruin her reputation by throwing her into a stranger's bed. But fate, it seemed, had a wicked sense of humor. The "random man" she had encountered last night was none other than Morgan—the very man Vivian had desperately pursued and adored for years.

If Vivian ever finds out what happened last night, it'll become the greatest backfire of her life, Camelia thought. A victorious smile slowly spread across her exhausted face.

Without another word to Devia, Camelia turned around. She walked confidently toward the exit, gently closing the apartment door behind her with a quiet click that carried the weight of victory, ready to face the next storm.

The scorching afternoon sun blazed over the courtyard of the luxurious Bagaskara family estate. The modern colonial mansion, with its towering white pillars, appeared quiet from the outside, but Camelia knew a snake was hiding within. She strode through the iron gate and climbed the front steps, the sound of her heels echoing firmly beneath her feet.

The moment she stepped onto the marble floor of the grand foyer after opening the front door, a woman dressed in an expensive chiffon house dress was already standing in the middle of the room, blocking her path.

It was Vivian.

"Camelia? Why are you back?" Vivian demanded, her voice rising as unmistakable hostility flashed across her face at the sight of her stepsister.

Camelia stopped walking. She looked Vivian up and down lazily, as though the woman before her was nothing more than a piece of trash obstructing her view.

"Do I really need to remind that dull brain of yours, Vivian?" Camelia took a step closer, leaning in with a mocking smile. "I am the rightful owner of this house. So whether I choose to come home or not is entirely my decision!"

Vivian's face tightened. She let out a harsh snort and planted her hands on her hips.

"Your house? Have you forgotten? Your mother is dead! This house belongs to my family now!"

The air inside the room suddenly turned icy. Hearing her late mother mentioned so disrespectfully by Vivian sent a surge of boiling anger rushing through Camelia's veins. Her eyes darkened, radiating such an overwhelming aura of intimidation that Vivian instinctively took half a step backward.

"You dare challenge me, Vivian?" Camelia hissed, her voice calm yet laced with deadly menace. She stepped forward, forcing her stepsister back until Vivian's back hit the edge of the console table. "You know perfectly well that your precious father has been living off my mother's company. He's nothing more than a manager surviving on the capital my mother's family built!"

Vivian opened her mouth to interrupt, but Camelia cut her off without mercy.

"Now that I'm an adult, and now that I've returned," Camelia continued, tapping her finger against Vivian's chest with emphasis on every word, "I'm taking back everything that belongs to me. Every cent, every inch of land—including this house. So pack up your cheap belongings before I throw you out myself."

"You ungrateful child! How dare you threaten my daughter!"

A thunderous baritone voice from the staircase cut through their confrontation. Bagaskara, Camelia's biological father, hurried downstairs with heavy, furious steps. His middle-aged face was flushed crimson with anger, his eyes glaring at Camelia as though she were the greatest enemy to ever set foot in his home. He immediately positioned himself in front of Vivian, shielding his beloved daughter behind his broad back while raising a finger to point accusingly at Camelia.