Don't Cross the Line of New York's Most Powerful Figure

Gwen's POV

The sharp sting of her nails carved deep, uneven scratches across my face, and I reeled from the slap, my vision blurring as stars danced in front of my eyes. The words I had been trying to say were lodged in my throat, suffocated by shock and pain. How had this woman—the one my father had described as elegant and refined—turned into this crazed, vindictive stranger?

I clenched my jaw, forcing myself to remain silent, unwilling to air our dirty laundry in front of the ever-growing crowd. But Auntie Hester wasn’t done. She whipped out her phone, flashing screenshots of bank transfers. It was the transaction history from the secondary credit card my father had given me.

“You spent tens of millions of my husband’s money in just six months, and you still dare to deny it?” She jabbed her finger at the screen to show me the list of transactions. “This is all the evidence I need when I sue you! You thought hiding abroad would protect you? Now that you’ve dared to come back and walked right into me, I won't just leave you here without paying for this!"

She leaned in so close I could smell her expensive perfume, her mocking gaze scanning my face. “Oh, they’ve done wonders on you overseas. Not a single trace of surgery left! No wonder even the most powerful man here in New York is wrapped around your little finger."

Her voice dripped with malicious amusement as she continued, “You could’ve been an influencer, made your millions on social media like any other pretty face. But no, you had to target my husband. Well, today I’m going to ruin that perfect face of yours and show him what kind of trash you really are!”

Before I could react, she grabbed my chin with a vicious grip, the pressure sending shockwaves of pain through my jaw as though my bones would crack under the force. I could only stare up at her, terror tightening around my chest.

My mother belonged to an ethnic minority, so my looks were entirely natural!

“My looks are natural!” I defended. “You’ve got it all wrong! I’m not a mistress—I’m Hector Stanton’s daughter. His biological daughter!”

I thought that revealing my identity would snap her out of her madness,

, but the words had barely left my mouth before her hand swung again. This time, the blow shattered one of my contact lenses, the shards slicing into my eye. Blinding pain ripped through me, my vision flooded with blood and tears. But I still refused to cry out.

Desperate, I pleaded through the haze of pain. “I’m telling the truth,” I said weakly. “If you don’t believe me, call him. I have pictures with my dad on my phone. I’m really his daughter.”

But Auntie Hester’s fury had already overtaken her reason, her face flushed with anger. “Shut up! You think I’ll believe you? Everyone knows Hector’s daughter is abroad. Stop playing roles in front of me—it’s disgusting!"

With a sneer, she tore open my coat, her eyes scanning my outfit with disdain. “A so-called ‘socialite,’ yet wearing a knockoff like this? What a joke. Only a slut desperate for attention would wear something like this to seduce men!”

Arching up her brow, she looked at me in pity and spat, "Your parents must have been dead. That's why no one taught you right and became a mistress. Well, then, your parents should thank me now as I’ll teach you some manners on their behalf!"

She raised her hand to strike again, but I screamed, “Wait! If you don’t believe me, call my father’s secretary! She knows me—she can confirm who I am!”

For a moment, doubt flickered in her eyes, her hand pausing mid-swing. She pulled out her phone, suspicion etched on her face. After barking a question to my father’s secretary, she listened impatiently.

The secretary’s voice came through faintly, but the words sealed my fate. “Mr. Stanton’s daughter? I haven’t heard anything about her returning to the States. As far as I know, she’s still completing her studies abroad.”

Upon hearing this, Auntie Hester abruptly hung up and threw the phone at me with force, the device hitting my forehead with a sharp crack.

“You hear that?” she hissed. “What now? What lies will you spin next? Get her!”

I never imagined my plan to surprise my dad would turn into a nightmare I couldn’t explain my way out of.

The bodyguards closed in on me, following her orders. My eye throbbed with sharp pain, and panic surged through me. Desperate, I screamed, “Stop! Or I’ll call the police!”

Unfortunately, my powerless threat sounded like the biggest joke to her. She simply kept responding to her livestream comments, her attention completely on her audience. The bodyguards didn’t stop either.

When one of them reached for me, terror took over.

“You want money?” I shouted. “I’ll give you a million! Just let me go, and I’ll transfer it right now!”