Chapter 1

"Evelyn, you've lived with the Lowells for fifteen years. I truly can't bear to see you go..."

Vincent Lowell stood in the center of the living room, his eyes reddened, voice choked with emotion—the very picture of a doting father reluctant to part with his child.

Evelyn Roland held her suitcase in one hand, a black backpack slung carelessly over her shoulder. She glanced at her adoptive father's theatrics, the corner of her lips curling into a cold smirk.

Had she not overheard his scheming in the study that night, she might have actually fallen for this hypocritical act.

At six years old, she'd been rescued from human traffickers by Charles Lowell. A head injury had stolen her memories, leaving her with only the face of her savior. The kind-hearted old man took her in as his own.

For the decade he lived, she'd known peace. But when his old illness flared up, even her skills could only extend his life by ten years.

Everything she'd done for the Lowells in secret, only Charles had known. On his deathbed, he willed her 10% of the family shares—ostensibly to protect her, but in truth, to ensure she'd continue safeguarding the Lowell empire.

She saw through it but didn't refuse.

The moment the funeral ended, Vincent's mask slipped. That night, she'd heard all three of them in the study, plotting how to drive her out.

"If we can't find her real parents, we'll frame her for scandal!" Margaret Hill's shrill voice still rang in her ears.

And Vincent? Not a single word of protest.

How laughable. All her sincerity, wasted on ungrateful snakes.

She didn’t care about the shares. Only Charles' kindness had tied her here. Now that he was gone, there was nothing left for her in this house.

"Goodbye, Mr. Lowell."

She turned, dragging her suitcase behind her, her voice icy and detached. The grief on Vincent's face froze instantly, twisting into something ugly.

"Ungrateful wretch!" Margaret sprang from the couch, her spite on full display. "Even a dog wags its tail before leaving. She can't even say a proper farewell!"

Beside her, Victoria Lowell—her mother’s spitting image with those sharp, upturned brows—sneered. "Mom, trash will always be trash. No amount of polishing in the Lowell mansion could turn her into a diamond. But it’s perfect—she’ll fit right back in that dumpster of a village."

To force her out, Vincent had paid handsomely to trace her roots—Jiangshui Village. The Rolands were the poorest family there, parents who scavenged for scraps, with four good-for-nothing sons.

She could imagine the life awaiting her.

A glint of malice flashed in Victoria’s eyes as she suddenly stood and shoved a wad of cash at Evelyn. "Here, little sister. Take this ten thousand. I wanted to write a check, but I doubt your village even has a bank..."

Lowering her voice, she added smugly, "Oh, and some good news—I’m pregnant with Nathan’s baby. He said a wild stray like you was never worthy of him. It’s always been me he loved—"

Evelyn’s crimson lips curved. "A toad with a slug—a perfect match. I’m just glad I didn’t get stained by such garbage. The stench is unbearable."

Victoria’s face turned livid. She yanked at Evelyn’s backpack—and with a clatter, a pure gold medal hit the floor.

"My piano competition medal!" Victoria shrieked dramatically. "You stole it!"

Margaret lunged forward. "I knew she was a thief! Search her bag!"

Vincent frowned. "Evelyn, is this—"

"Does it even need asking?" Margaret cut in shrilly. "She’s desperate! Butler, search her now!"

Amid the tension, Evelyn laughed.

From her bag, she pulled out a larger gold emblem studded with emeralds. "Recognize this?"

Victoria paled. "The Jury President’s Badge from the International Piano Masters?!"

"Compare the status, the weight, the value—which of hers even comes close?" Evelyn smirked, casually projecting surveillance footage onto the living room screen.

The video clearly showed Victoria slipping the medal into her bag.

Gasps filled the room.

Victoria scrambled to shut off the TV while Margaret spat, "You installed cameras in our home?!"

"How many times have you framed me? I only let it slide out of respect for Charles." Evelyn flicked the miniature camera on her backpack charm. "As for the badge... Did you really think the theft of a jury president’s emblem wouldn’t make headlines?"

The debt was repaid. These three clowns wouldn’t get another ounce of her courtesy.