Love, Hate, and Revenge

Chapter 2

In the largest hospital in City A, the stark white sheets made Margaret Winslow's face look terrifyingly pale. Even unconscious, her well-defined features were contorted, her brows knitted tightly together, an expression of terror etched on her face.

Ivy Winslow looked haggard. She gripped her mother's hand tightly, her slender fingers turning white at the knuckles. She clenched her jaw, her heart aching as if it were splitting apart.

The surgery had been successful; her mother's life had been saved.

To avoid delaying the best time for treatment, Ivy had spent the past few days pleading desperately with Vice President Fu, her father's old friend. Only after she guaranteed that she would definitely raise the full cost of the surgery did the hospital perform the operation on her mother in time.

But after the surgery, her mother remained unconscious.

The crystalline glimmer in her beautiful eyes was gradually forced back. She wouldn't allow herself to cry. Turning, she walked outside. It was time to go home and get some clean clothes.

Floor 28, Morningside Heights Apartment.

The ding of the elevator bell jolted Ivy Winslow's nearly crushed and dejected spirit. She walked out of the elevator, dazed. Several large suitcases were dumped at her own doorstep. Inside the apartment, lights blazed and figures moved about.

What was going on?

Ivy Winslow's whole body tensed, her heart pounding faster. She hurried a few steps and quickly entered the living room.

Inside the spacious, ornately decorated living room, her uncle Harold Winslow's family was looking around everywhere, each of them ecstatic.

"Dad, I never dreamed such a magnificent apartment would belong to us," Chloe Winslow said, her eyes gleaming. Her face, somewhat similar to Ivy's, was bright with greed and vulgar glamour. Her cheeks flushed with excitement, she smiled comfortably and contentedly.

"Yeah, I never dreamed such good fortune would come our way," Harold Winslow agreed, beaming.

"Dad, Mom, Sis, look who's here!" Dylan Winslow suddenly shouted in alarm.

Instantly, all heads turned towards Ivy Winslow, who was standing at the entrance. Her face was pale as snow, her figure frail and delicate. Her eyes were calm and sharp as she looked at them.

"Well, well, Ivy Winslow, you're here." Harold Winslow was stunned for a moment, then recovered and walked over with an awkward smile. "Since you're here, good. I have some things to tell you anyway."

Ivy Winslow's lips curled slightly into a cold smile.

"Ivy Winslow, well, your father died in that car accident. According to our family's rules, property has always been passed down to the males, not the females. So these houses, the stocks, and some other assets can only be transferred to our Dylan," Harold Winslow explained shamelessly.

"Is that so? But my lawyer tells me this is my father's property and should belong to me. You are simply seizing it by force. Now, please leave, or I will call the police," Ivy Winslow said, her eyebrows raised, her whole body radiating coldness, her tone severe.

Would she be intimidated by them?

Of course not!

Ivy Winslow had always been different!

When her father was alive, he had selflessly supported her uncle's family. But now, her father's body was barely cold, just a few days had passed, and they had come to seize the property, all under a pretentious guise! Ivy Winslow's heart turned utterly cold.

"Ivy Winslow, don't be ungrateful. We're talking to you nicely now, giving you face. Let me tell you, the house deed has long been transferred to my father's name. All the assets have been changed to his name. If you don't like it, go ahead and call the police. But when they get here, the one who gets thrown out for trespassing on private property will be you," Chloe Winslow said, stepping forward with a smug smile, her pretty eyes gleaming with self-satisfaction.

Indeed, they had planned everything long ago. She had no way to fight back.

Ivy Winslow finally understood the true meaning of utter shamelessness.

Rage surged within her. Her clenched hands opened and closed slightly.

A portrait of her father, Richard Winslow, stood in the middle of the living room. He had thick eyebrows and big eyes, smiling with a face full of kindness and love.

Only when Ivy Winslow saw her father's face did her eyes redden, her throat tighten, and her heart feel as if it were being stabbed with a knife.

In front of the dark red TV console, Ivy Winslow carefully picked up her father's portrait and gently caressed it. Suddenly, Sebastian Hastings' scornful, icy face flashed unbidden into her mind, a bone-chilling coldness seeping through her.

She was very grateful that her father had never known about her hollow marriage to Sebastian Hastings before he died. That brought her a measure of peace.

The pleasant ringtone of her mobile phone sounded at an inopportune moment.

"Hello," Ivy Winslow answered habitually.

"Come to my office in half an hour," Sebastian Hastings' deep, magnetic voice was, as always, utterly domineering.

Weren't they already divorced? What right did he have to be so bossy? Ivy Winslow sneered inwardly, but her face blossomed into a radiant smile, her voice sweet as she asked:

"Sebastian Hastings, is there something you need?"

Though soft, Ivy Winslow's voice was loud enough for everyone in the living room to hear clearly.

Instantly, the living room fell so silent that one could hear a pin drop.

Ivy Winslow seemed able to hear their flustered heartbeats. A faint, contemptuous sneer curled her lips.

"What do you think, ex-wife? Don't you want your divorce certificate? Or perhaps you don't want to take it, so you can use it as leverage to extort more money?" Sebastian Hastings' wicked, light laugh was venomous, dripping with sarcasm and mockery. Ivy Winslow's heart clenched sharply. Her face paled for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. Smiling sweetly, she said, "Sebastian Hastings, wait for me. I'll be right there."

She quickly hung up.

The expressions of Harold Winslow's entire family changed. Chloe Winslow, in particular, was green with envy.

Sebastian Hastings, President of Hastings Group, was a mover and shaker among the world's top ten wealthiest individuals. A highly sought-after, brilliant young man! In City A, he was practically all-powerful, able to summon wind and rain at will.

They certainly wouldn't dare offend such a figure.

Anyone with eyes knew about the relationship between Ivy Winslow and Sebastian Hastings! When they had decided to kick her while she was down, they had already calculated everything carefully.

But Ivy Winslow had just been speaking intimately with Sebastian Hastings. Could the rumors be false?

"Of course, that apartment will still belong to you and your mother. You two live well there from now on. Let us know if you have any difficulties. We are still family, after all," Harold Winslow said, his face wreathed in smiles, tossing her the deed to the suburban apartment as if bestowing charity.

"Tsk, you are still the young mistress of the Hastings Group president, aren't you? What's a little thing like this worth? At the end of the day, you're still part of our family. In the future, if there are any benefits, you must think of us more," Margaret Winslow also said, gloating and utterly shameless.

Ivy Winslow's sharp gaze was like a knife as she smiled coldly.

"Uncle, Auntie. You have three months to return everything you took from my father, exactly as it was, to me. Otherwise, we'll meet in court, and don't blame me for being ruthless," she said, holding her father's portrait in both hands. Her icy gaze bore into their eyes, her voice harsh and cold. The quiet calm she exuded was not weakness, but the composure of someone who knew what she was doing. It only made their hearts pound with even more panic. They dared not meet her eyes and scattered, dodging her gaze.

Ivy Winslow picked up the apartment deed from the floor, clutched her father's portrait tightly, and pulled her luggage. Amidst their exchanged bewildered looks, she walked away step by step.

Her heart was tearing, bleeding. A fierce, ruthless light shone in her eyes.

Love, kinship – all gone. Her expression was terrifyingly calm. It was as if the very energy of her body had been drained, leaving her limp and weak.

It wasn't that she was afraid of them, nor that she didn't know how to defend her rights. But she simply didn't have the energy to think about this right now. After all, this wasn't the most important thing. Besides, they had already secured the facts. What she needed now was patience and time.