She Left a Trail of Angry Heirs Behind

Everyone in the upper circles knew I was the Xander family’s delicate little porcelain doll, someone who could not tolerate even the slightest grievance.

I always had to sit in the seat of honor at gatherings. My drinks had to be served ice-cold. If anything annoyed me even a little, I would have my childhood friends clear the room.

That was, until the fallen heiress returned.

She did not rely on men. She had built her own business from scratch and was ruthless in the boardroom, radiating a wild, untamed beauty.

Slowly, my dear brothers began to find me insufferable and too high-maintenance.

When they pulled their investments from my gallery to back her projects instead, only my fiancé stayed by my side, comforting me.

“Forget them. They’re all opportunists. I’ll always keep you safe in the palm of my hand!”

That was until one day, I saw that same proud fiancé bent low like a servant, humbly wiping wine stains off the heiress's shoes in a corner of a club. His eyes were filled with a devotion I had never seen before.

“All I need is one look from you, and I’ll drop the whole wedding.”

I took off my engagement ring and tossed it into the drain. Then, I went home and told my grandfather, “Grandpa, I’m going to Africa for that development aid project.

“I’ll agree to the arranged marriage. Just don’t make me see them again."

Grandpa watched my resolute back as I walked away. His wrinkled hand trembled, reaching out as if to stop me, only to fall short, hanging in midair.

"Winnie, have you really thought this through? That's Africa. It's the Quinn family's territory, and Mr. Quinn is practically a devil."

I did not turn around. My tears hit the floor the moment I stepped away, but my voice was eerily calm. "I've made up my mind, Grandpa.

"Anywhere's fine, as long as I can get away and never see them again."

The moment I stepped out of the study, I leaned against the cold wall. My body slowly slid down it.

My mind kept replaying what I saw half an hour ago at the club.

Today was my twenty-third birthday.

Traditionally, it should have been the biggest party among the capital's elite circle.

I was the Xander family's little princess and Luke's fragile, precious doll.

However, the private room was empty and silent tonight.

Dressed in a custom couture gown, I sat in the seat of honor like a joke, waiting for an hour, then two.

The group chat on my phone was dead silent.

There was not even a message from Adrian, Zayden, or my fiancé, Luke.

Suddenly, I saw Charlotte's post.

It was a photo inside another private room in the same club, captioned with just two words: [I won!]

A hand was visible in the corner of the photo, sporting the Patek Philippe watch I had given Luke.

I grabbed my skirt and ran toward that room like I had lost my mind.

I stood outside the door and heard laughter from inside.

"Luke, this is Miss Charlotte you're dealing with. Wipe it properly."

"Yeah! If that wine stain soaks in, those shoes are done for."

Through the half-open door, I saw a scene that made my blood run cold.

The man who used to panic over the slightest frown from me, the man who said I was the most precious thing in his heart, was now kneeling on one knee before another woman.

In his hand was an expensive silk scarf. He was carefully and humbly wiping wine stains off Charlotte's high heels.

The way he moved was reverent, as if he were handling a priceless treasure.

Charlotte lounged on the sofa, swirling a glass of red wine. Her gaze was lazy and carried a hint of impatience.

"All right, Luke. Quit the act."

He lifted his head. His eyes were filled with a kind of obsession and fervor I had never seen before.

"Charlotte, just look at me one time. I don't care if it's while I'm wiping your shoes. I won't even get married. Deal? I'm sick of that crying porcelain doll anyway."

Clatter!

The gift box slipped from my hand and hit the floor.

It was the cufflinks he had always wanted. They were one-of-a-kind, something I had spent half a year working with a designer to get.

The room fell silent instantly.

Every gaze turned toward me.

When Luke saw my pale face, panic flashed across his eyes, and he instinctively started to stand.

However, the moment he met Charlotte's half-smiling gaze, that panic vanished and was replaced by cold indifference and disgust.

He frowned and said in an icy tone, "What are you doing here? But it's good timing. I've got some things I need to make clear."

I bit down hard on my lip until I tasted blood.

"Luke, it's my birthday today."

He let out a scoff, tossing the stained silk scarf onto the table.

"Birthday? Whitney, how old are you? Do you still expect the whole world to revolve around you on your birthday?

"Why don't you learn from Charlotte? Be a little independent. Stop acting like a spoiled child who hasn't been weaned yet."

Adrian chimed in with an impatient tone, "Winnie, don't take this the wrong way.

"Charlotte just got back to the country. Starting a business is stressful. What's wrong with us keeping her company? Can't you be a little more understanding?"

Zayden added, "Exactly. We spoiled you before because you were young, but it turns out we spoiled you rotten.

"You can't handle even the slightest discomfort. How are you supposed to become the lady of the Howard family like this?"

I looked at them, the men who once swore they would protect me for life.

When did everything change?

It started the day Charlotte came back.

She did not ride in luxury cars—she rode motorcycles. She did not drink soda—she drank hard liquor. She did not admire flowers in a greenhouse—she fought battles in the business world.

She was a wild rose, while I was an orchid in a greenhouse.

Just like that, my delicacy became a flaw. My tears became an act.

I took a deep breath. My nails were digging into my palms.

"So, this is the birthday gift you've prepared for me?"

Luke waved his hand impatiently. "If you're here to make a scene, just leave. Don't ruin everyone's mood."

Charlotte raised a brow. Her voice was cold. "Miss Xander, Mr. Howard is saying this for your own good. Flowers grown in a greenhouse can't survive a storm."

At that moment, something inside me snapped completely.