The Price of Assumptions

The live streamer, Orla Brown, waved my student ID around smugly.

"Take a look, everyone. The mistress is so cunning. Not only does she deny that she's a mistress after being caught, but she's also lying by claiming to be the guy's sister."

She held my student ID up to the camera and said, "Her name is Silvia Felton, and she's a sophomore at Avant Design Academy. How can you claim to be Claude Stark's sister when you don't even have the same last name?"

I panicked because she was exposing my personal information online by blatantly showing the internet my student ID. I tried to grab it back, but two women held me down.

Julia became enraged, feeling that I had tricked her. She slapped me hard twice. I felt the world around me spin as the metallic taste of blood filled my mouth.

"You vixen! How dare you trick me? I'll tear you apart!" Julia cried out in a shrill voice.

As I was pinned down, I couldn't avoid her furious physical blows.

"We really are siblings," I said weakly.

No one believed me. Everyone was fixated on the luxurious decor inside the villa.

"Claude spared no expense on you. I can't believe he set up such a lavish dwelling for you," Julia said with a sneer as she glanced around.

Then, she uttered two words coldly, "Smash it."

"Come on, everybody! Keep those live gifts coming! The live demolition starts now!" Orla screeched excitedly.

This house's decor was my wedding gift to Claude. I designed the layout and chose the design company myself. For over half a year, I'd been here every chance I had to monitor the workers. Panic surged through me when I heard that they were going to wreck the villa.

"No! Don't ruin the house. This is all my hard work!" I struggled fiercely against the two women pinning me down.

I clawed at them, leaving several gashes on their arms. They cursed as they tightened their grip.

It wasn't the money I cared about—it was my work, my effort.

The more agitated I was, the more pleased they were. Within minutes, the sound of smashing and breaking filled the room. The top-of-the-line TV was shattered, the leather couch was slashed, and even the antique vases lay in pieces.

"Y-You're all insane! I'm calling the police on you!" I said through clenched teeth, thoroughly maddened at the chaos that was unfolding.

My words reached the ears of the woman restraining me. They jeered, "What? This little tramp wants to call the cops? Will the police side with mistresses? This is a family matter—we're all Julia's family, and we're here to support her."

They shoved and pinched me as I lay curled up on the ground, bracing myself against the pain.

"What? A viewer said that this painting is a world-renowned piece. How much is it worth? Did you say 400 million dollars?" Orla asked exaggeratedly.

This drew my attention immediately. I cried out, "Don't touch that painting! You can't afford it. It's worth 500 million dollars!"

"There's no way Claude would spend so much on a real painting for his mistress."

"It's definitely fake."

"A fake that size should still be quite valuable. Look at how panicked she is."

The women stood in front of the painting, bickering away.

"Don't touch that painting! If you damage it, you'll have to spend your entire fortune just to make up for the loss," I said angrily.

Claude had bought this painting anonymously at an auction and specifically asked me to hang it in his new home.

Upon hearing this, Julia grew angrier. "I asked Claude to buy me a 50-million-dollar ring, and he refused. Yet, he spent 500 million on a worthless painting for you. I ought to teach you a good lesson!"

She turned to the others and shouted, "Destroy that stupid painting!"

"Everyone, watch as we stomp on a world-famous painting. Isn't this exciting?" Orla yelled in excitement.

They took down the painting and tore off the frame. With their dirty feet, they trampled all over Claude's treasured masterpiece.

I silently prayed and hoped that the art restorer would be able to repair the damage they had inflicted.

"Get me a pair of scissors. Claude must have bought it for this tart as a token of their love. I'm cutting it to pieces," Julia declared.

All my remaining hope vanished.

"Julia, you're going to regret this," I said helplessly.

Didn't my brother say his girlfriend was sweet and gentle? Did he know that she was capable of such malicious acts?