Chapter 4 – The First Strike
496 Words
The carriage rolled away without her.
In her first life, she had obediently stayed behind when her father said, “It’s better you remain home.
Focus on drafting that business plan. Leave the public stage to your siblings.”
She had believed him. She had believed everything.
And because of that blind faith, she had been nothing but a tool, the hidden brain behind the family’s empire, never acknowledged, never praised, only used until they had no need for her.
This time, her lips curved into a cold smile.
No. Not again.
When the hour came, she dressed herself, no maid’s help, no sister’s cast-offs.
She chose a gown that embraced her youth but radiated sophistication, the kind of elegance that made one stop and look twice.
The grand hall buzzed with chatter as nobles and businessmen mingled.
The doors opened once more, and silence seemed to ripple across the room.
She stepped inside.
Every gaze turned to her. Admiration sparked, murmurs rising like waves across the hall.
“Who is she?”
“Which family does such a beauty belong to?”
“Exquisite…”
Her family’s smiles froze the moment they spotted her.
Her sister’s hand clenched around her fan, knuckles whitening, eyes burning with jealous rage.
Her mother stiffened, while her father’s jaw tightened until it seemed it might c***k.
They were looking at her.
And her family hated it.
She glided across the hall with perfect grace, each step echoing like a declaration: I belong here.
When she reached her parents, she bowed slightly, voice gentle and sweet.
“Father. Mother.”
But instead of warmth, her father’s face twisted with fury.
He raised his voice too loud, too sharp, carrying across the silent crowd.
“Why are you here?!” he barked, eyes blazing.
“Did I not tell you to stay home and finish what I assigned you?”
Gasps rippled among the guests.
Whispers flared instantly.
“Assigned her? At a time like this?”
“So… she is their daughter?”
Her father’s outburst, meant to shame her, only stoked more interest.
Now every gaze turned not just with admiration, but with suspicion.
What kind of family tried to bury a daughter like this?
She lowered her lashes, letting the corner of her lips curve into the faintest smile.
Outwardly obedient. Inwardly triumphant.
“Father, I worked tirelessly on the plan you entrusted to me.
But then I thought… surely, after so many years of learning at your feet, it is time I see with my own eyes the kind of world our family moves in. How else can I serve you better?”
Her words were honey, humble on the surface. Yet each syllable cut like a blade.
The onlookers murmured approvingly.
Such a devoted and clever daughter.
Her father’s fury had no outlet; to scold her further would make him look unreasonable.
To praise her would give her recognition he never intended.
He was trapped.
- Writer
