My three most important men all betrayed me at my wedding.

The woman I despised most wearing a wedding dress and toasting guests beside Jonathan Harris-My Fiance-in my place.

Bewildered, I frantically demanded to know why!

Instantly, everyone shot mocking glances my way.

My own brother smirked, pointing at me as he said lightly:

"See? I told you she's got princess syndrome. One little test and she throws a tantrum."

My childhood friend Charles Lee nodded in agreement:

"Yeah, spoiled rotten since childhood. Marriage requires tempering first, or life won't be peaceful."

Meanwhile, my husband Jonathan raised his glass to them and said, "Thanks."

I screamed hysterically, "Jonathan!

Do you know what I've been through? Instead of helping me, you thank them!"

Countless filthy hands reached for me through the slums.

I fought desperately, biting like mad, dragging my heavy wedding dress step by agonizing step.

The pristine gown was caked with last night's muddy rainwater,

my hair disheveled, hairpins torn out so violently my scalp nearly bled!

Facing my meltdown, the three men remained utterly unfazed.

"Christine Williams, you lost your temper earlier. You really should behave."

"We're doing this for your own good. Endure these trials and all will be well. We'll still stand by you forever."

I laughed bitterly at their words, finding it absurd. "So without these 'trials', you'd stop caring for me?"

I stormed forward but tripped on my torn train, face-planting onto the floor.

Looking up, I saw silver stilettos.

Sandra Thomas.

That intern they'd been praising nonstop lately.

My brother Joseph Williams told me coldly:

"Forgot to mention—Sandra is Father's blood. You're just the bastard Mom shoved into this family."

"We share a father. She's my real sister."

"But out of respect for our shared mother and twenty years of history, I'll let you stay... for now."

Charles gave Sandra an approving look:

"Sandra fought her way here from the mountains, resilient as fresh spring grass."

"You should learn her strength, Christine. Stop being so spoiled."

He frowned slightly:

"If you pass the trials and drop your princess syndrome and entitled attitude, we might let you remain with us."

Sandra gazed down at me in her flawless gown, smirking:

"Then you'll be my little sister... if you pass, that is."

I couldn't process this, desperately turning to Jonathan.

My college sweetheart—he knew my true character!

But he didn't even glance at me. Just turned and walked away.

They left me crumpled on the floor. Sandra lingered last.

She deliberately ground her heel into my fingers. Agony shot straight to the bone.

Yet the physical pain paled against the heartbreak.

I couldn't comprehend how three men who'd loved me

could transform overnight.

Thanks to them, overnight the public narrative flipped.

Videos surfaced of me bullying classmates in high school, plus endless scandals:

Including but not limited to—hit-and-runs with zero remorse, abusing household staff, humiliating friends by making them kneel...

Massive online attacks flooded in. Slut-shaming insults everywhere.

Some even photoshopped my obituary photo, burning memorial paper offerings.

They'd resented my perfect life. Now with ammunition, they unleashed every criticism.

Christine stared at the screen, her knuckles white.

These things I never did made them think they had leverage,

rushing to condemn me without proof.

I returned home only to find Joseph posting new smears with a burner account.

"Joseph, what are you doing!"

"I'm your sister! How could you spread such vicious lies about me!"

He lazily lifted his eyelids to glance at me:

"Can't handle it?

Who spread rumors that Sandra slept her way into the company,

cyberbullying her into depression?!"

I could hardly believe it: "You think it was me?"

"Who else would envy her joining the Williams family?

Just a jealous bitch."

But I'd never even met Sandra before this!

My hands clenched as I shouted:

"I, Christine, own my actions!

But I won't take blame for things I didn't do!"

Joseph smiled lightly: "Oh?

That's not for you to decide."

With one click, he published the article.

Its headline screamed:

[TOMORROW'S WILLIAMS FAMILY HEIRESS REVEAL: CHRISTINE WILL KNEEL AND APOLOGIZE ONSTAGE!]

The next day, I was yanked straight from bed.

Still in pajamas without washing up, they hauled me to the press conference.

Across the room, Sandra dazzled in haute couture, makeup flawless.

"At least let me wash my face..."

"Christine, you're too pampered to grasp simplicity. Sandra grew up in mountains where water for washing was scarce."

Charles frowned at me disapprovingly.

Jonathan nodded. "We've trashed all your designer cosmetics. You'll attend as you are."

The venue swarmed with people.

My pajamas drew instant accusations of disrespect and promiscuity.

They shoved me onstage to apologize.

Clenching my teeth, I grabbed the mic and declared:

"I, Christine, am no fake heiress!

I'm Margaret Nelson's biological daughter!

Margaret was Mrs. Williams—that makes me the Williams heiress!"

Joseph stood up, face thunderous:

"Bullshit!

Your mother drugged Father and slept her way up!"

"Father truly loved Sandra's mother! That venomous witch drove him into hiding just to safely deliver Sandra!"

Stunned, I fired back:

"Lies!

Mother told me Father drugged her that night—he raped her..."

Before I finished, Charles ripped away my mic.

Jonathan seized another:

"Apologies, everyone. My wife habitually lies. Recent criticism has... unsettled her."

"I'll ensure she apologizes properly."

Micless, I screamed: "Jonathan! Who gave you that right?"

He marched over, shoved my shoulders, forcing me toward my knees!

I fought stubbornly until security pinned me.

Jonathan kicked my knee—bam!—I crashed to the floor.

Sharp pain shot through my knee, radiating to my lower abdomen.

Remembering, I flung a prenatal report from my pocket:

"Jonathan, stop!

I'm pregnant!"

He spun around, stunned.

I thought the child thrilled him.

Instead, he roared: "Christine, you disgrace!

Whore!"

His words froze me.

That night, he'd held me from behind, voice husky with desire, murmuring he wanted a child.

He confiscated my pills afterward—I never took them.

Now pregnant, he calls me a whore?

Charles lamented nearby:

"Unwed pregnancy? Christine, how could you embrace such filth?"

"This was merely a test we set with Jonathan—yet you took the bait!"

Sandra gasped, hand over mouth:

"Such immorality? Back home, we'd put her in the pillory!"

Camera flashes exploded, reporters condemning my lack of virtue.

Some sneered I seduced men with my body—just like my dead mother!

To quell the outrage, Joseph ordered me dragged outside to kneel under the sun.

"Perfect for humbling the spoiled heiress."

At noon under the scorching sun, they enjoyed the breeze in the shade,

while I gritted my teeth and knelt under the blazing sun.

The crowd below, eager for more excitement, threw all sorts of things at me.

One small stone flew over, its sharp edge grazing my temple, instantly cutting my scalp, and blood kept streaming down my head.

Over there, Joseph saw the unstoppable bleeding on my head and panicked. He picked me up and shouted anxiously:

"Someone help!

Hurry!

She's bleeding!

!"

Woke up again, already in the hospital.

I got up and saw Joseph walk in, angrily throwing a few papers at me.

"You deliberately had someone throw a rock at you to make us feel sorry for you!"

"The chat records are all here, what else can you argue?"

I looked at the evidence scattered on the bed,

None of it was done by me!

"So scheming, always lying, you failed this test too!"

Joseph didn't wait for my reply, angrily walked away.

Then, Sandra walked in.

"Poor little sister, need me to burn something to change your luck?"

I immediately looked at her warily: "What do you mean?"

Sandra kicked a box over, opened it, inside were all the handwritten letters my mother wrote to me!

When she was seriously ill, she wrote birthday wishes for me for every year to come.

Some letters I hadn't even opened to read!

"What are you doing!"

I shouted at her in terror, afraid she might do something crazy.

She picked up a letter, directly lit a lighter.

"Don't!"

I quickly reached to grab it, but got tangled in the IV tube, the needle twisting in my vein, stinging painfully.

"I just said I wanted to see your treasures, and they willingly gave them to me."

"Christine, no one loves you anymore."

"I now have everything you once had, hahahaha!"

Sandra laughed, carelessly threw it, the lighter fell into the box full of envelopes, instantly bursting into flames!

I cried out in pain, climbed off the bed, desperately tried to pat out the burning flames with my hands.

Trying to save the mementos my mother left me.

They were the last keepsakes from the person who loved me most in the world!

Only after the fire finally went out did I barely manage to grab the remaining letters.

I looked up hatefully at Sandra:

"Sandra, how can you be so vicious!"

Sandra tilted her head innocently, said she didn't understand me.

But then she turned on the TV for me to see.

On the news screen, in the cemetery, a group of angry people were banging something with shovels.

Through the crowd, I saw it was actually my mother's tombstone!

These self-righteous netizens and passersby, with tools, rushed into the cemetery, smashing my mother's tombstone full of cracks!

My tears instantly gushed out, I screamed: "No——!!"

I desperately pulled out the IV needle, rushed out of the ward.

But Sandra blocked my way, suddenly gave a provocative smile: "Who do you think they'll believe, you or me?"

As she said this, she fiercely slapped herself hard.

The next second, Joseph, Charles, and Jonathan walked over.

They simultaneously shouted worriedly: "Sandra!"

Jonathan quickly walked to Sandra's side, supported her as she swayed.

Joseph and Charles turned to look at me, eyes full of blame.

And I stood opposite them, feeling utterly ridiculous.

Joseph frowned at me. "Christine, you're so arrogant! Utterly unrepentant!"

Charles added, "Why are you so obsessed with saving face? Can't you drop the 'Miss Williams' act for once and just apologize?"

Jonathan shook his head, disappointment written all over his face.

Supporting Sandra, he told her, "How she hit you just now? Go return that slap."

"Don't be afraid. We've got your back."

I listened in disbelief.

Every single word—they'd once said these things to me.

Yet in just one week, everyone who'd stood by my side had blindly switched sides against me.

But I was desperate to reach the cemetery to protect Mother's tombstone.

As I turned to leave, Jonathan wrapped his arms around Sandra from behind, gripped her hand, and struck my cheek with a sharp slap!

I covered my face, staring up in shock. Before I could speak, a second blow landed.

Smack!

Long nails scraped my skin—stinging pain!

The three men stood behind her like knights, praising her courage for daring to hit me.

My heart chilled, yet I still thought of the tombstone.

"Finished?

Then get out of my way!"

Face icy, I shoved past them toward the exit.

Joseph sneered, "Why stop pretending to be frail and hospitalized?

Can't keep up the act, huh?"

With that, he shoved me hard!

I crashed into the marble nurse's station, a sharp cramp twisting my belly.

Blood trickled down my thighs.

"My stomach... it hurts so much..."

Charles glanced dismissively. "Faking it again? Once was enough—we won't fall for it twice!"

Sandra stepped forward, stomping her high heel into my belly:

"Does it hurt here, Christine dear?

"Feels like you've got a blood bag stuffed inside."

The others instantly glared at me with disgust.

Clutching my worsening pain, I pleaded, "No, I'm not!

Save my baby... please save him—"

But the three men ignored me, shielding Sandra as they walked away.

I slumped to the floor, blood pooling beneath me.

In agony, I watched their retreating backs, closing my eyes in despair.

My heart froze completely.

From now on, I, Christine, would walk this rugged path alone.

The baby didn't make it.

When the doctor told me, I just shut my eyes in resignation.

Fine. Without this child, Jonathan and I were truly finished.

Back home, I packed to leave.

Then I remembered Mother's letters.

I wanted to read them before burning them—to lessen the regrets.

But in one letter, I found her real legacy for me: a phone number.

"If it gets too much, contact your grandfather. He'll help you."

Tears streamed down my face as I held the letter.

Mother had left me an escape route all along.

Taking my phone, I drew a deep breath and dialed the number.

Mother had eloped with Father, drawn by his looks, cutting off all family ties.

She was the eldest daughter of the Nelson family in Port City.

The initial business of the Williams Family Enterprise was almost entirely secured through her connections.

That was why Joseph, even by drugging and raping, didn't hesitate to use a child to keep the mother by his side.

But now the Williams Family Enterprise is thriving.

Yet no one remembers all that mother sacrificed.

Even her tombstone...

I sniffled, but heard the phone answered the instant it connected:

"Hello?"

"G-Grandpa...?"

The voice on the other end sounded young, and he chuckled lightly:

"I'm not Grandpa. Technically, I'm your nominal brother."

"Grandpa anticipated you'd call."

Wiping my tears, I spoke for mother and my disappointing self:

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize. Your mother remains the Nelson family's eldest daughter, and you're their little princess."

I froze, warmth I hadn't felt in years rising in my chest.

The voice continued:

"Grandpa said the Nelsons will help whenever you call."

"I'll arrive tomorrow."

"Then we'll make every fool who hurt our little princess pay!"