Revenge of A Fake Heiress

I, Catherine Foster, has been treated as the real daughter of the Foster family for fifteen years.

Once the truth was uncovered, the Foster family sent me back to my biological father, and no one cared about me anymore.

I endured humiliation, beatings, and countless injuries.

Until one day, I encountered that tall, aloof figure while working part-time at a bar.

He pressed the cigarette butt against the back of my hand, and I broke out in a cold sweat of pain, the agony spreading from my hand to my heart.

I knelt on the ground, clutching his sleeve desperately in a plea for mercy.

"Erik Gordon, please, save me."

He lifted his hand and sneered, his demeanor cold and distant.

"Catherine, did you ever think this day would come when you caused Rosa's death?"

1.

Although I already had injuries on my back, large and small, none of them were as intense as the pain that spread from the back of my hand to my heart.

I knelt there, drenched in alcohol. And my eyes were devoid of life, filled with a profound sense of despair.

I clung tightly to the sleeve of the handsome man before me, my face dry of tears, leaving only a hollow obsession.

"Erik, please, save me."

I looked at the man I once loved deeply, my voice full of pleading.

"Erik, don't forget, this woman is a master at playing the victim. Don't let her deceive you." Someone said.

Erik frowned, looking at me, the once pretentious and flamboyant little princess of the Foster family, now kneeling like a discarded outcast, begging him.

Suddenly, he laughed.

He removed the cigarette from my hand, lifting my chin with no trace of pity.

"Catherine, did you ever think this day would come when you caused Rosa's death?"

My eyes were hollow, a result of countless torments endured.

"I didn't kill Rosa."

He mercilessly kicked me to the ground, standing up and brushing off his sleeve as if with disdain.

"Disgusting."

2.

As he turned to leave, I crawled over and clung to his leg.

"I swear to relinquish any affection for you. Please, save me."

He frowned, surprised by my actions, his face mocking, full of superiority.

"Catherine, after all these years, I didn't expect you'd lose all dignity. It's a mercy I haven't killed you."

"Ha, save you? Do you know you're beneath even the lowest creature right now?"

"Erik, I swear, I'll never love you again. Just take me away."

I clung to his leg like I was possessed, my heart numb with pain, but I was used to it.

Compared to survival, what did dignity or face matter?

Yet, in the end, he forcefully broke free from my grip, tossing the cigarette butt near my shoe.

"Catherine, you should know, in my heart, you're worth less than this discarded cigarette."

Behind me, those who once flattered me as the daughter of Foster family now mocked me.

Another glass of wine was poured over my head, my body soaked in red wine.

"Huh, the daughter of Foster family, how did she end up like this?"

"Yeah, weren't you quite the force back then? Didn't you say you'd never let us off if we crossed you again?"

A shoe pressed against my face, but I slowly got up as if I couldn't feel it.

"Let it go, ladies and gentlemen, I'll clean up."

"Oh, has she turned over a new leaf?"

A female voice chimed in-it was Susanna Rowe, the girl who liked Erik when I was still the daughter of Foster family.

Back then, I treated Erik as my possession, warning any girl who got close to him.

Indeed, one's wrongdoings came back to haunt them, just like me now.

3.

Susanna smashed the wine bottle on the table, her lips curling in triumph.

"Wretch, come pick up these shards, and only with your hands."

Neither refuting nor resisting, I stepped forward and obediently bent down to pick up the broken glass on the floor, devoid of the anger a normal person should have.

Her heel landed on my hand, the broken glass piercing my palm, blood dripping onto the floor.

I didn't cry out in pain, just gritted my teeth and endured it.

My hand bore the cigarette burn, my palm bled from cuts, and my fingers were forever twisted and ugly.

She couldn't help but sneer.

"Catherine, you couldn't escape, and now your hand is ruined."

Seeing my silence, Susanna slapped me across the face.

I fell to the ground from the force, my right cheek burning, yet it was nothing compared to what I'd endured over the years.

"With a face of bitch, today I'll help you destroy it!"

She suddenly lashed out at my face with the broken bottle.

But I felt a moment of relief. If this face was ruined, perhaps my days would be easier.

But the shards never touched my face, as a voice came from behind.

"Miss Foster, the president sent me to take you away."

I was stunned, my heart skipping a beat-it was Erik's assistant.

I turned around. Even such a redemptive sentence couldn't bring life back to me.

I was as if devoid of any will to live, because I knew Erik hated me.

Yet, I still harbored a sliver of hope.

There was nothing worse than being humiliated day in and day out, even if the next step led me into an abyss, I was willing.

4.

I mocked myself inwardly, even if Erik didn't love me, he was still the sole person that was willing to save me in such a world of fame and fortune.

Thomas, the assistant, took me to another presidential suite, the one Rosa liked.

Erik sat on the sofa, smiling as he gestured for me to sit beside him.

"Have a seat."

I approached cautiously but didn't sit as instructed.

My hand was still bleeding, the back of it marked by his cigarette burn, emitting a faint burnt smell.

My back was hunched, my body emaciated, but my face remained strikingly beautiful.

This was the only reason my biological father didn't destroy this face.

Erik suddenly pulled my hand, and I reflexively tried to escape, my back hitting the sofa, my brow furrowing as the old wounds on my back hadn't healed.

"Still not tired of living like a princess, so delicate?"

He spoke with malice, then tossed the paper on the table far away, as if mocking a helpless creature.

"Go fetch it and wipe my shoes."

I got up to fetch it, only to hear him continue.

"Crawl."

I moved like a puppet, kneeling on the ground, crawling to fetch it and crawling back.

Finally, I stopped at his feet and skillfully wiped his shoes, my face expressionless, as if I'd done this countless times.

Seeing me like this, he seemed dissatisfied for some reason, kicking me over and stepping on my injured hand.

5.

It hurt, but compared to the suffering I'd endured over the years, it was insignificant.

I looked at him blankly, my eyes devoid of the pride, flamboyance, and passionate love they once held, filled only with emptiness.

My lack of resistance seemed to bore him, and an inexplicable anger suddenly rose within him.

"Catherine, don't think playing the victim will earn my forgiveness."

He stepped forward, gripping my neck, lifting me off the ground, my face turning red.

It seemed only then could he see a trace of will to live within me.

Seeing me like this, he no longer looked at me, tossing me to the ground.

"Let me tell you, you killed Rosa, and it's a mercy I haven't killed you."

I sat on the ground, gasping for air, unwilling to defend myself any longer.

They preferred to believe I killed Rosa out of jealousy rather than listen to my explanation-then and now.

Now, I only wanted to survive, for only by living could I see hope. Love had long been worn away by daily humiliation.

Not long after, Thomas knocked and entered.

"Mr. Gordon, David Foster is here."

Erik looked at me with a meaningful gaze.

"Let him in."

The familiar face appeared before me, but all I felt was fear.

He was the brother who pampered me for over a decade, but only sent me back to my biological family in the end.

"Scared?"

Erik asked with interest, seeing my expression.

I pressed my lips tightly, saying nothing.

I was scared. Compared to Erik, it was David, the brother who once spoiled me beyond measure, who terrified me more.

6

I knew Erik's nature well. Even if he despised me, he would never cross a line with me, especially I was a woman.

But David was different. After Rosa's death, he became a complete monster.

Before I was forced to leave the Foster family, he had already broken my fingers, and it was Erik who found me and took me to the hospital.

The door opened, and I knelt on the ground, looking up to see a familiar face filled with hatred staring back at me.

"Erik, since when did you start meddling in other people's business?"

Erik sat on the sofa, not bothering to look back at him. Ash from his cigarette fell onto me as I knelt there, a faint smile on his face.

"Since when did I need to report my actions to you, Mr. Foster?"

I felt a bit relieved that it was Erik I encountered back then.

Suddenly, my hair was yanked up by a pair of large hands, and a slap landed on my face.

"Who told you to come back, you worthless girl?"

I just knelt there quietly, looking at Erik, as if waiting for him to give orders.

If I was a stray dog now, then I was one Erik had taken under his wing, belonging to him.

Erik lit another cigarette, watching everything unfold with a slight smile, showing no intention of intervening.

My heart sank and I laughed to myself at the thought.

I had really believed he took me back out of some lingering sympathy for my previous affection towards him. Now it seemed he just wanted to ensure my suffering wasn't too mild.

I touched my swollen face.

"Brother, please stop hitting me. I didn't kill Rosa. It has nothing to do with me."

I propped myself up with one hand, trying not to fall over.

"Catherine, how long are you going to keep up this act?

Did you use this trick to deceive Erik too?"

David grabbed my throat.

"I didn't, I didn't."

Tears welled up as I shook my head vigorously.

Seeing the person I was once closest to now wanting to kill me, I felt my heart suffocated.

My long-numb heart was filled with pain.

7.

[Let me go to die, it would be better if I were dead.]

A thought suddenly crossed my mind, but I quickly dismissed it.

I had to live. I still had a bright future ahead. If I died now, what would all my past suffering mean?

The indomitable will to survive made me fight back even as he choked me.

As I closed my eyes, a resigned sense of relief washed over me, but it was filled with regret. I had no family, no love, leaving nothing behind.

In the scorching summer sun, my body felt an eerie chill.

"Let her go."

A cool voice came, one I knew all too well-it was Erik's.

"Rosa is already dead. Do you want to carry another life on your conscience by killing someone else?"

I fell to the ground, dizzy, with voices echoing in my ears.

David shouted madly, "She caused my sister's death. What does it matter if I kill her?"

My attempts to defend myself were futile. The accusation of murder seemed to be a permanent stain on me.

I didn't know who would believe me.

"Calm down."

"Huh, Erik, have you gone soft? Didn't you once tell me you wished she were dead?"

"I did say that, but what I want to do is my business. Even if she dies, it should be by my hand."

The sound of a table being slammed was accompanied by David's angry voice.

"She killed Rosa, Erik. Don't forget what you said."

8.

The sound of a door slamming echoed, and cold tea was poured on my face, jolting me awake.

Meeting those cold eyes, I shivered, my clothes in disarray, my bruised body finally registering the pain.

My face was pale, sweat beading on my forehead.

Erik hooked his lips and snorted lightly.

Perhaps I should thank him, I thought, but I was too exhausted to speak.

"Catherine, don't think you've escaped. As long as I'm around, you'll never have peace."

The ripples in my heart calmed after I heard this.

After a while, Erik stood up.

"Thomas, prepare a set of clothes for her."

He then looked at me.

"Clean yourself up. Don't dirty my place."

He looked at my empty eyes, frowning. In his memory, I was the arrogant and willful princess, but in a few years, I had become someone too weak to resist.

He had once despised me, but now he seemed displeased with my current state.

With a light snort, he finally seemed unable to bear it, stepping forward to grab my messy hair, his tone a bit angry.

"Look up."

I looked up, but my arrogance was gone.

He was dissatisfied, and I immediately shrank back in fear.

I had successfully provoked his anger, but he didn't know I was no longer the Catherine I once was. Even if I tried, I couldn't pretend to be that bold and carefree person anymore.

"Get out."

He suddenly said.

I was stunned, and he shouted angrily, smashing a teacup on the table.

"Get out!"

I was a bit scared, and he dragged me to the bathroom.

Standing there, I was still in a daze, my head throbbing with pain.

But I still took off my clothes.

The woman in front of the bathroom mirror had no place without injuries on her body, her emaciated frame looking terribly ugly.

But I still felt that the chance to be in the bathroom was precious.

Over the years, I hadn't had a peaceful bath in a long time.

When the water touched my body, I suddenly felt like vomiting. The sticky, foul stench made me want to retch, as if those hands were still on me.

I endured the nausea, scrubbing my body hard, as if trying to wash away all the filth, ignoring the wounds on my body, new, old, inflamed.

I found it quite ironic. Someone who wasn't fortunate enough would live for a long time instead. It seemed that being surrounded by families was a thing of the past century for me.

9.

The knock on the bathroom door startled me, and I instinctively hugged myself.

"Miss Foster, the clothes are at the door."

My suspending heart then slowly settled down, and I timidly replied, "Thank you."

Another set of footsteps approached outside, and a wave of fear washed over me. I had grown accustomed to living in forced humility, trusting no one, not even Erik, who I once liked and who brought me back.

I suddenly remembered a few years ago, this presidential suite was my favorite place to visit, because Erik often stayed here.

Back then, my love for Erik was well-known.

Even though I knew he didn't like me, I still arrogantly chased away the girls who liked him.

My affection was written all over my face, and everyone knew about it.

The pain flared up again as I looked at my fingers, which remained bent even after healing. This ugliness and indignity was always in my bones and blood.

The past days devoured me like a bloodthirsty beast, my body buried deep in the abyss.

Ever since I was sent home, thrown into the bathroom by my biological father, and had my clothes torn off, I could never go back.

The Catherine left behind was an empty shell, without a soul but desperately clinging to life.

10.

Staring at the reflection of a delicate face yet emaciated and scarred, I suddenly laughed.

If it were before, I would have been saddened by Erik's cold indifference.

But now, my heart was just a barren wasteland.

Sadness? Yes, but more than that, I wanted to live.

I changed into the clothes, frowning slightly.

My figure was no longer as full as it was a few years ago, and the clothes Erik had prepared were loose, the neckline plunging to my chest, adding a touch of allure.

I searched for shoes but found none, so I walked barefoot to the door, only to be met with Erik's gaze.

His eyes traveled from my face to my neck, finally landing on my neckline.

My frail body couldn't fill out the clothes, but my chest was well-developed.

His gaze turned heated, making me uncomfortable, as if I were being scorched.

This feeling was not unfamiliar to me. I had developed a conditioned response to men's intense desires, sensing them clearly without words.

My body began to tremble, fear rooted deep within me.

I stumbled, trying to leave, but he stepped forward, gripping my arm tightly, his touch filled with desire and anger.

"Catherine, are you trying to seduce me on purpose?"