Fang King’s Witch

Chapter Two

Isha had always believed herself destined for more. As a child, her eerie flashes of foresight whispered that she was not meant for basements or shadows, but for thrones and chandeliers. That belief fed her hunger, a gnawing need for beauty, wealth, and power.

She had loathed the dank basement where she lived with her foster mother. Loathed the poverty, the squalor, the reminder that she was nothing more than the daughter of a mistress.

So when the truth came—when she learned she was a princess stranded in an ordinary world, a phoenix trapped in the ashes of another’s nest—her joy was boundless.

Still, joy alone could not erase the scars of her past life.

She remembered it too vividly: how she had been reunited with her true parents at twenty, lifted into the glittering world of privilege, only to be betrayed by the man she called husband. A wolf in sheep’s clothing. His betrayal ended with her blood spilled, her corpse desecrated, and her life snuffed out before she could truly savor her triumph.

This time, she vowed, would be different.

Armed with the memories of her past and the guidance of her goldfinger system, she would rise above them all. She would make the Smith family untouchable—more powerful than any dynasty in Yunjing Province.

And tonight, destiny opened its doors. Her system whispered that a financial magnate, a man whose very name could make Yunjing tremble, was among the banquet guests.

She despised the crowd, but vanity warmed her. Her beauty—moon-pale, delicate, irresistible—was her sharpest weapon. She would make him notice her. She would make him hers.

And as for Cara? This pitiful imposter who had stolen eighteen years of her life would serve her now as a stepping stone. This time, Isha would watch her crumble slowly, deliciously.

The corners of Isha’s lips curled at the thought.

Unbeknownst to her, two men sat apart in the banquet hall, shadows among the glittering guests.

The first leaned back in his chair, his features hidden beneath a black hat. Smoke curled from the cigarette between his long fingers, obscuring his pale face. His other hand toyed idly with a string of dark prayer beads, each movement deliberate, a sharp contrast to his snow-white skin. His aura was one of silent power, of cold elegance.

Hendrix.

Beside him lounged Owen, handsome, relaxed, his expression far less guarded. His gaze flicked toward Cara, and his lips twisted.

“I find it incredible that such a shameless girl exists,” Owen murmured, his tone laced with disdain. “And to think—she’s engaged to you.”

Hendrix exhaled a lazy curl of smoke, offering no reply.

“No, that’s not right,” Owen corrected himself, eyes sliding to Isha’s delicate profile. “She’s the true daughter. The real fiancée. That clown,” he jerked his chin toward Cara, “isn’t even fit to carry your shoes.”

He spoke with the easy arrogance of a man accustomed to influence. As an official from Beijing, the Smiths could never have compelled his attendance. But Hendrix was his closest friend, and the man was betrothed to one of the Smith daughters. That alone was reason enough to join him—and compare the two girls for himself.

Still, Hendrix said nothing. He crossed his legs casually, his aura colder than the smoke that wrapped him.

Owen sighed, exasperated at his friend’s silence. “This poor Isha… her identity stolen for years, and now she must accept a counterfeit sister. Truly pitiful.”

His approving gaze lingered on Isha, then shifted to Cara, who stood apart in garish makeup and heavy clothes. His nose wrinkled in disgust.

At last, Hendrix moved. His gaze lifted, dark and fathomless, his pale complexion catching in the light like carved jade. A single red mole marked the corner of his eye—an exquisite flaw that only heightened his beauty. He was cold. Arrogant. Untouchable.

And when his gaze swept over the two girls, it lingered just a little longer on Cara.

His voice broke the silence at last—low, rough, carrying the weight of command even in its impatience.

“Your mouth won’t stink if you don’t speak.”

The words were soft, but Owen nearly choked. He swallowed hard, forcing a grin. “Brother Fifth, tell me—have you ever known love? A soulmate, perhaps?”

Hendrix arched a pale brow. “A soulmate?” He spoke the word as though it were foreign.

“It means,” Owen explained, “someone you cherish so deeply you could never marry another.”

A faint shake of Hendrix’s head. “I don’t have one now. I won’t have one in the future.”

Owen nearly face-palmed. Ten years of friendship, and never once had he seen Hendrix so much as touch a woman. The man lived like a monk—vegetarian meals, meditation, temples and chants. It was a wonder he wasn’t robed in saffron.

Meanwhile, Isha played her role flawlessly—provocative and pitiful by turns, gathering sympathy with every glance.

Cara, however, surprised everyone. Her voice was calm, her bearing steady as she turned to face Isha.

“I’m sorry for taking your identity for eighteen years,” she said softly. “I can’t imagine the pain you endured because of it. From today, I’ll step aside. You may be the Smiths’ daughter. I’ll be Cara Michaels.”

A ripple of shock moved through the crowd. Isha herself faltered, stunned. In her past life, Cara had clung desperately to the Smith name, begging and humiliating herself until her end came in blood. To hear her relinquish it so easily unsettled her.

She masked it quickly, lowering her eyes to hide the ruthlessness flickering there. Her lips curved in mockery.

“Why do you sound as if you’re giving me something that already belongs to me?” she asked sweetly. “You lived in luxury while I rotted in a basement. And now you act as though you’re doing me a favor?”

Cara’s brow arched, her gaze steady.

“For your information, I wasn’t the one who switched us at birth. If you want someone to blame, blame the hospital’s negligence. I understand your resentment—and I’ll even apologize to you on behalf of my mother. But don’t pin crimes on me that I didn’t commit.”

Her words were calm, precise, unshaken.

From Isha, however, came only a sneer. “Do you really think a strict place like a hospital could make such a mistake?”