Ripping off the Fake Heiress' Mask

Aspen lunged toward me. She tried to grab my phone, but I countered with a sharp, resounding slap. It was louder than the first.

Rosalie and June froze in place. Their faces were etched with terror.

Aspen clutched her rapidly swelling cheek, staring at me in disbelief. "Alice! Y-You! Aren't you afraid of what Ian will do when he finds out you hit me?"

I almost laughed from sheer anger. Raising an eyebrow, I retorted, "Weren't you all the ones insisting on calling the police? Now that I'm calling them, what are you afraid of?"

I deliberately paused, letting my gaze sweep over their panicked faces. "And even if Adrian finds out I slapped you, so what? Does the Ford Group belong to him now? He's nothing but a spoiled heir. Why should I be afraid?"

Rosalie snapped out of her shock and hurried to support Aspen, treating her as though she were a rare treasure. Turning to me, she spat, "How dare you hit Mrs. Ford, you fraud! You've gone too far!"

She barked at June and the other staff, "What are you all standing around for? Call the police! Get this lunatic arrested!"

I let out a cold laugh. As Adrian's rightful fiancée, the Ford family would only embarrass themselves if the police got involved. I couldn't wait to see who would truly be humiliated then.

Aspen suddenly switched her tactics, and she started playing the part of a virtuous victim instead.

Holding her cheek delicately, she said in a soft, pitiful voice, "Forget it. Today's supposed to be a happy day. Ian and I are going to take our wedding photos. I don't want her ruining the mood. Just have her thrown out."

Rosalie immediately caught on. She shrieked toward the front desk, "Security! Security! Get this shameless woman out of here!"

Several burly security guards arrived in response, but I was completely unfazed. I remained seated firmly as I took out my phone, pulling up a photo of Adrian and me. It was an intimate shot where he had his arm wrapped around my waist as we smiled radiantly.

I glanced at them coldly before saying, "I am Alice Lowe, Adrian Ford's fiancée. Let's see which one of you dares to lay a hand on me. I'll make sure this pathetic little shop is shut down by tomorrow."

The security guards exchanged uneasy glances as they shifted their gaze between the photo and me. None of them dared to make a move.

Rosalie snatched my phone, scrutinizing the photo closely. Then she looked over at Aspen, whose face was as pale as a sheet.

With a sneer, she spat, "So, you're a mistress? A sneaky little gold digger, huh? Look at you acting like you're special.

"Do you think snapping a picture together with Mr. Ford suddenly makes you important? You should take a good, hard look at yourself and figure out where you actually stand!"

Aspen, still playing the victim, wiped away a tear with an air of wounded innocence. "My family only took her in out of pity, and we even officially adopted her. Yet, this is how she repays us—by going after my Ian. It's my fault for being too kind-hearted… I just never expected that she'd…"

Pausing for effect, she turned to me with a smirk. Her tone dripped with mockery as she said, "Trash will always be trash, no matter how much you dress it up."

Sometimes I had to admire her audacity. She was insulting herself and yet did so with such righteousness.

I couldn't be bothered to argue anymore. Without another word, I dialed Adrian's number. My tone was ice-cold as I said, "We're no longer taking wedding photos today. And one more thing, I don't want to see Aspen ever again."

On the other end, Adrian seemed to suddenly remember that today was the day we were supposed to take our wedding photos. His voice carried a hint of impatience. "What now, Alice? What kind of tantrum are you throwing this time?"

Aspen immediately started wailing theatrically. "Alice, Ian was just being kind when he agreed to let you live with me in the Ford estate. He even treated you like a little sister. But you… You kept targeting me… And kept trying to take Ian for yourself…"

Adrian's voice came through the line, slow and cold. "I'm on my way."