Mr. Whitmore's Ninth Wife

“It’s such a pity about Thomas Morgan. He used to brag about his daughters all the time—how brilliant they were. And now? Even she’s bowed to money in the end.”

“I don’t think it’s just about money. The scary part is all those rumors about the Whitemore family in the past years. What if both of the Morgan daughters end up destroyed by them?”

In the eyes of Ravenbrook, I’ve become nothing more than a shameless gold-digger.

And because I hold a doctorate and graduated from both Tsinghua University and Lexford University, the contrast makes people all the more furious—disgusted, even. The more accomplished I am, the more outrageous my decision seems to them.

At the Whitemore family manor, Mrs. Whitmore had someone bring me inside.

“Claire,” she asked, studying me with sharp interest, “are you really willing to marry my son?”

I met her gaze calmly and answered without hesitation, “More real than gold.”

“I’ve heard Mr. Whitmore is gentle and refined, gracious to everyone, and above all, recently, his net worth surpassed ten billion. Why wouldn’t I like such a man?”

I smiled at her, calm and unbothered.

Mrs. Whitmore let out two cold laughs, unconvinced.

“I knew it. There’s no way you genuinely care for Julian,” she said, her eyes filled with disdain.

But I knew she had no choice but to accept me.

“Enough. Let’s drop the pretense,” she snapped. “Have you forgotten that your sister died in our ancestral temple eight years ago?”

“In all the years you were gone, bride after bride has died in that same temple—each one gruesome and inexplicable. What makes you think you’ll survive the night?”

Her gaze was sharp, her voice challenging.

But I smiled slightly and replied, “Don’t worry, Madam. I’m not like the others. The ancestors didn’t accept them, but they will definitely accept me.”

I looked at her square in the eyes, not flinching, letting my confidence radiate.

She studied me for a long moment before finally nodding. “Fine. Go home and prepare. If you can survive the night, then you’ll have proven you’re different.”

She dismissed me with a wave of her hand.

I turned and left, the corners of my lips lifting. Tonight, everything will be revealed.

When I returned home, my parents were waiting—anxious, furious.

“What nonsense is this?! Who told you to agree to marry Julian?!” My father shouted, his face flushed with rage.

My mother stood beside him, dabbing tears from her eyes. Her expression was full of sorrow and disbelief.

But I looked at my father and felt nothing.

“Why do you care who I marry?” I asked, my tone cold.

“What do you mean, why do I care?!” he shouted. “Don’t you know the rumors about the Whitemore family? Do you have a death wish?! Are you trying to kill your mother and me with worry?!”

His voice cracked with emotion, but I didn’t waver.

“If you really cared,” I said slowly, “you wouldn’t have let my sister die so unjustly back then.”

His entire body shook. His lips trembled, but no words came out.

“Claire, don’t speak to your father like that, your dad—” my mother began gently.

“Shut up!” My father barked, cutting her off sharply.

Then he looked back at me, cold and firm.

“Fine. Since you’ve made your choice, I won’t stop you. From now on, I have no daughter like you.”

And just like that, he disowned me.

Despite my mother’s pleading, he remained unmoved. He kicked me out of the house without hesitation.

Standing outside, I turned back and knelt in the direction of my parents’ home. I bowed three times, then six, then nine.

“Mother, Father, I’m an unfilial daughter,” I whispered.

“If I succeed in uncovering the truth, I’ll come back and honor you both.”

Then I rose and left, my heart calm and resolute, stepping toward the alley where my fate awaited.

The wedding convoy was already waiting. Compared to eight years ago, it was even grander—every car a gleaming Rolls-Royce.

Everyone who saw it couldn’t help but look on with awe and envy.

“The Morgan family is finished,” someone muttered from the crowd. “That girl’s going to die just like her sister.”

“She studied all those years for this?” another voice sneered. “So much education, and in the end, her doctorate meant nothing at all.”