Chapter 7

Yara returned to her room, took a shower, and didn’t go back downstairs.

The noise from below gradually faded—it seemed the banquet had come to an end.

Just as she was getting ready to sleep, her phone buzzed with a message from Elena.

“Yara, come to my room. I have a gift for you.”

Yara left her room and approached Elena’s door, but before she could knock, she heard hushed voices from inside.

"Elena, don’t do this. Your sister is right next door."

"She’s asleep. What are you afraid of? Ever since she came back, you haven’t touched me. Westley, I’ve missed you."

"Elena, it wouldn’t be good if your sister overheard."

"Westley, are you really that scared of her?"

It sounded like Elena was crying now, her voice thick with emotion.

"Westley, tell me the truth. Since she came back, have you been sleeping with her again? You promised me I was the only one..."

"I haven’t touched her," Westley said, his voice a mix of helplessness and tenderness.

"Elena, don’t cry. You’ve seen the scar on her forehead. Do you really think I could feel anything for her now?"

Elena let out a soft laugh.

"I knew it. You always treat me the best. You’re so good to me, I have to repay you. Westley, stay still. Let me take care of you."

"Elena, you’re willing to do this? I don’t want you to feel wronged..."

"I don’t mind. Westley, you’re a man, and men have needs. I’m happy to do this for you."

Inside the room, the sound of whispered, intimate voices continued.

"Westley, tell me—who’s prettier? Me or my sister?"

"You."

"Who makes you feel better? Me or her?"

"You."

"Then who do you love more? Me or her?"

"Of course, it’s you, Elena. Faster..."

Yara felt a loud buzzing in her ears, drowning out everything else.

Her entire body stiffened, as though even her blood had stopped flowing.

Stumbling, Yara made her way back to her room. She sat by the window, staring blankly into the pitch-black night for what felt like an eternity.

She thought that no matter how despicable Westley might be, he would at least hold onto some semblance of decency.

But she overestimated him.

In the early hours of the morning, just as Yara had finally closed her eyes, the buzzing of her phone jolted her awake.

The messages were from Elena:

"Yara, you heard it all, didn’t you? Your mattress and your husband—they’re both mine now."

"Let me tell you the truth. While you were rotting in prison, Westley and I spent almost every night together."

"Oh, my dear sister, it seems you couldn’t satisfy your husband. Otherwise, why would he act like a starving wolf in my bed?"

"Your career, your father, your husband—they’re all mine now, Yara. I’ll make sure everyone knows that the only thing separating us was that you had a rich mother. You’ve never been better than me!"

Yara’s hands trembled uncontrollably, and she almost lost it, ready to throw her phone across the room.

It took her a long while to steady her breathing, and her thoughts gradually became clearer.

Elena wasn’t wrong—Yara had a wealthy mother.

But what Elena failed to understand was that the comfortable life she now enjoyed wasn’t thanks to their idle father.

It was entirely due to the inheritance Yara’s mother left behind.

Her mother had been forward-thinking, foreseeing the possibility of her daughter being wronged. She included a special clause in her will, ensuring Yara’s protection.

And now, that clause had been activated.

Yara opened her contacts and called Michael Baker, the family lawyer.

The phone rang only twice before Michael answered, his tone exceptionally respectful.

"Miss Cullen, how can I assist you?"

"Mr. Baker, it’s time to enforce the supplementary clause in my mother’s will.”

"Are you certain, Miss Cullen?"

"I’m certain."

With those two words, Yara ended the call.