The Jade Bangle

At a lavish banquet, my worthless brother Henry brought his new girlfriend. She wore a cheap, glittering mini dress and scraped her knife and fork against the plate so loudly that the surrounding guests all turned to stare.

“Get her out of here. The Warringtons can’t afford this embarrassment.” I kept my face cold as I dismissed them.

The girl’s eyes welled up as she shrank into Henry’s arms. “Who does she think she is, treating me like this?”

I raised an eyebrow and smiled. “She’s the one who pays your boyfriend’s monthly allowance after he lost every penny he invested.”

1.

My own brother, Henry, was a complete failure.

The business our parents left behind slowly decayed in his hands. He threw money around on investments, but every single time, he lost it all.

He never put any real effort into work. Instead, he cycled through girlfriends like they were disposable.

He had a taste for the flashy, seductive type—bright red lips, heavy perfume that would linger in the living room for days.

But this time, he’d fallen for a girl who looked innocent on the surface.

I knew better. This girl was anything but simple.

Henry was a playboy who spent his days surrounded by women, but he’d always kept a clear head, separating work from pleasure. At high-society gatherings, he only ever brought dates from families of equal standing—never the revolving door of flings.

The elite circle was private. Everyone was someone important, and no one wanted their photo splashed across the internet, becoming fodder for gossip.

Bringing an outsider to a private event made guests feel disrespected and unsafe.

But this time, Henry brought a girl from outside the circle.

She looked to be in her early twenties, timid and wide-eyed, like she’d never seen the world.

She had a sweet, innocent face—big eyes, soft hair falling to her shoulders.

But her outfit was anything but subtle. Her dress was covered in blinding sequins, cheaply made, with bits falling off as she walked. The hem barely reached mid-thigh, and her open-toed heels made her stumble with every step.

She leaned against Henry, whining and clinging to him.

In an instant, she became the center of attention.

Her name was Yvonne.

2.

The elite guests were polite on the surface, but they were the most exclusive people you’d ever meet.

Victor Qin, the ruthless heir of the Qin family, curled his lips coldly. “Is your brother going back to basics? Too bad for the cleaning staff.”

He nudged a fallen sequin—one that had dropped from Yvonne’s dress—with his custom Italian leather shoe.

His arrogance made me clench my teeth. But he was annoyingly handsome, with sharp, refined features that made all the society girls swoon.

For once, my sharp tongue failed me.

On the other side, the wealthy matrons cupped their faces dramatically, fingers pressed to their ears. “Oh, I can’t stand that sound. My head is pounding.”

They cast sideways glances at Yvonne, who was struggling to cut her lamb chop with a knife and fork, their lips curling into smug, disdainful smiles.

I knew that look. They were savoring the moment—finally, a Warrington was making a fool of themselves.

Yvonne’s utensils scraped against the plate, screeching as she failed to cut through the meat.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I waved over a waiter. “Bring Miss Yvonne a pair of chopsticks.”

Yvonne looked deeply offended, pouting at Henry. “Henry, does your sister not like me?”

Her eyes drooped at the corners, the picture of pitiable innocence.

This girl was bold. She dared to stir up trouble between me and my brother, right in front of me.

I raised an eyebrow and snorted. “Miss Yvonne doesn’t like chopsticks? Then bring her a pair of disposable gloves.”

Henry couldn’t stand seeing his girlfriend upset. He snapped at me. “Claire, don’t push it. I let you have your way at the company, but outside, keep your attitude in check and stay away from my people.”

Oh, please. “Let me have my way”?

He’d thrown his money into terrible investments, lost everything, and had to sell off the shares our parents left him just to cover his losses. When the media caught wind of it, our company’s stock plummeted. I bought up every single one of Henry’s shares while they were cheap.

Now, Henry had no say in the boardroom. He lived off the monthly allowance I gave him.

But I didn’t feel like arguing. Right now, the Warrington name was being dragged through the mud by this girl.

I handed Yvonne the disposable gloves. “Eating with your hands is better than disturbing the other guests.”

I gestured toward the matrons at the far end of the table, who were covering their ears. “Maybe teach her some manners before bringing her next time. Don’t make us a laughingstock.”

3.

I sat alone at a table, holding a wine glass, unable to even enjoy the fine champagne. I just wanted this humiliating banquet to end.

I’d deal with Henry at home.

But Yvonne, it seemed, hadn’t embarrassed herself enough. She was determined to make a full spectacle.

After finishing her lamb chop, she took advantage of Henry’s trip to the restroom to show off her social skills. She approached the wealthy young men, pulling out her phone and asking for their WeChat contacts.

A pretty girl in her early twenties, her ambition written all over her face.

But high society valued boundaries. To add someone, you needed a trusted introduction. To enter the circle, you needed valuable resources to trade.

And beauty? Beauty was never a scarce resource. In the world of the ultra-wealthy, it meant nothing.

The young heirs exchanged amused glances, but no one pulled out their phone.

From a distance, I watched Yvonne fidget with her phone, casting desperate looks toward the restroom. But Henry was taking forever.

I cringed for her, though I couldn’t help feeling a little satisfied. I downed the rest of my champagne.

In this circle, if you didn’t know the rules, someone would teach you a lesson soon enough.

But then, Yvonne suddenly pointed at me. “Don’t misunderstand, everyone. I’m not an outsider. I’m Miss Claire Warrington’s brother’s girlfriend. I’m part of this circle too. If you don’t believe me, ask her.”

4.

I nearly choked on my drink.

The young heirs turned to look at me with interest.

This circle loved gossip. They loved watching people make fools of themselves. They wanted to see how I’d introduce this clueless “insider.”

I set down my glass, smoothed my silk dress, and walked over slowly in my heels.

I was annoyed. I had to clean up Henry’s mess again. But I couldn’t afford to lose face in public, so I forced a smile. “I see you’re having a good time with everyone, Miss Yvonne. Why did you suddenly bring me up?”

Yvonne realized she’d caused trouble. She was a little afraid of me, and she stood there awkwardly, not knowing how to respond.

Charles Chu, the cheerful second son of the Chu family, loved stirring the pot. He leaned in with a gossipy grin. “I’ve known Henry for years, and I’ve never seen him bring a stranger to a private gathering. He must really care about Miss Yvonne. Is he planning to introduce her to everyone as his future wife?”

The first part was just fluff, meant to flatter Yvonne.

The last part was the real jab. Charles was mocking the Warringtons for associating with someone so clueless and improper.

But Yvonne didn’t catch the subtext. She blushed, coyly brushing her bangs aside. She didn’t deny the “future wife” comment, and the smugness in her eyes was almost tangible. She was probably already dreaming of being a wealthy matriarch.

The other heirs watched me with curiosity.

I blinked, pretending to be surprised. I played along—thriving in high society was all about acting. “I have no idea. This is my first time meeting Miss Yvonne too. Looks like my brother’s been swept off his feet. Getting married is such a big deal, and he didn’t even tell his own family.”

Yvonne looked deflated. When she thought no one was watching, she shot me a glare.

Henry finally emerged from the restroom and walked toward us.

Yvonne looked relieved. She grabbed his hand, her face full of委屈, hiding behind him and whispering something in his ear.

Henry suddenly interrupted the conversation, loudly demanding, “Did you bully Yvonne?”

Me: “?”

She was the one who’d been awkward and called me over to save face. Now she was tattling to Henry?

Victor Qin, who was usually quiet and aloof, suddenly spoke up in my defense. As the eldest son of the old-money Qin family, his words carried weight.

He clapped Henry on the shoulder with a smile. “Protective, are we? You’ve got it wrong. Miss Yvonne came over to add us on WeChat and said she wanted to join our circle. We all thought you two were getting married, so we asked Claire to come over.”

The other heirs nodded in agreement.

Henry hadn’t expected Victor to defend me. His punch landed on air, and he stood there awkwardly, forcing a laugh.

Then he looked at Yvonne with surprise.

Adding strangers at a banquet had exposed her ambitions.

Even Henry, as clueless as he was, started to worry that he was being used as a stepping stone into high society.

Watching them stare at each other, I decided we’d given the outsiders enough entertainment.

I nodded politely to the young heirs and gestured for Henry and Yvonne to follow me to a small, empty room off the main hall.

I’d spent the whole night watching Yvonne make a scene and cleaning up after Henry. I was exhausted.

And he still couldn’t see that I was on his side. He’d taken an outsider’s side and accused me of bullying his precious flower.

I had no patience for stupid people. My anger had been building all night, and it was about to boil over.

Yvonne looked innocent, snuggling into Henry’s arms.

I couldn’t stand to look at them. “Take her and get out. You’ve disgraced the Warrington name enough.”

Henry, humiliated in front of his girlfriend, flew into a rage and raised his hand to hit me. But I was faster. I grabbed his wrist and twisted it.

He yelped in pain, tears almost spilling from his eyes.

Yvonne looked deeply wronged, sobbing as she clung to Henry. “Claire, you can look down on me all you want. But Henry is your brother. How dare you treat him like this?”

I raised an eyebrow and smirked. “Because he has no manners, bringing someone like you to disturb the guests. Because he lost all his money investing and lives off the allowance I give him.”

5.

Henry stormed off with Yvonne.

After watching them cause chaos all night, I had no desire to socialize with the guests. But in business, I didn’t always have a choice. I had to maintain the Warrington connections.

I touched up my lipstick in the mirror, took a deep breath, and was about to head back to the main hall when the lights in the room suddenly went out.

I was enveloped in a familiar, cool cologne and a warm embrace.

I pushed against his chest indifferently. “Not tonight. You should leave. It’s not good if someone sees us.”

He seemed angry. He bit my lip hard, making me gasp in pain.

Then he let go abruptly and walked out of the room without looking back.

Victor Qin was always like that. Decisive, never saying soft words, always pulling away at the right moment. He left me alone in the dark, his cool scent still lingering on my lips.

No one knew that Victor Qin was my secret lover.

“Lover” wasn’t quite accurate. There was no love between us. It was just a transaction.

Being born into a wealthy family was never easy. It was exhausting—endless business courses, endless social obligations.

When Victor held me, I could forget my fatigue and my work troubles. He was handsome, with sharp features and a great body. He fit my aesthetic perfectly. But he was calculating and ruthless. He wasn’t the right person for me.

Since it wasn’t a serious relationship, I didn’t want anyone to know we were together.

The Warrington and Qin families were both major players in the business world of Linshire. Any hint of a potential merger would make other families wary.

These were the critical years for me to take over the family business. I couldn’t afford any mistakes.

I always reminded myself not to get caught up in emotions. Work came first.

6.

Henry and I were siblings, but we’d never been close.

When I was little, I was cute and did well in school. Our parents favored me.

Henry was jealous. He always said, “I hate my sister. If she weren’t here, Mom and Dad would love me the most.”

When no one was watching, he’d have his friends shoot me with plastic pellets and put bugs and slimy toads in my backpack.

For a while, I’d wake up screaming from nightmares, my hands still feeling the wet, sticky sensation that made me nauseous.

Back then, our parents were busy with work and rarely home. Our grandmother, who was in charge, favored boys over girls and always took Henry’s side.

She said Henry meant no harm. She said girls were too sensitive and made a big deal out of everything.

I begged my parents to send me to a boarding school abroad. I wanted to be as far away from Henry as possible.

My middle school years were carefree. But when I was seventeen, my parents took a plane to the U.S. for my graduation ceremony. The plane crashed.

I became the family’s bad luck charm.

Henry called me in the middle of the night, crying and cursing me, calling me a curse.

I sobbed under my covers, but deep down, I thought he might be right. After that, I never went back to China.

It wasn’t until I graduated from college that I realized how badly Henry and our uncles were running the business into the ground. I couldn’t let them destroy what our parents had worked so hard to build.

I got on a plane back to China, determined to turn things around.

7.

After I returned, every weekend, Henry and I had to visit our grandmother at the old mansion.

When I arrived, the living room lights were off. Henry and Yvonne were making out on the couch.

“Go to your own room. Don’t do this here,” I said.

But the two of them ignored me, getting even more into it, like they were putting on a show just to provoke me.

I pulled out my phone and started recording. The phone’s light illuminated their faces. “You like being affectionate in public so much? Let me share this with everyone.”

I kept recording. Yvonne shrieked, pushing Henry away and covering her face with a pillow.

For a moment, it felt like I was in the middle of a raid on an illegal establishment.

“Claire, you’ve gone too far!” Henry cursed, scrambling to grab my phone. I dodged him.

“Don’t try it,” I warned calmly. “If I accidentally send this to the company group chat, the board will have more to say about your lack of professionalism.”

Henry pulled back, but he tripped over the coffee table and stumbled to the floor. His face was covered in sequins that had fallen off Yvonne’s dress.

I laughed in disgust, looking down at him. “Have the maid clean the floor later. Grandma’s legs aren’t good, and we don’t want her to slip on the sequins that fell off your girlfriend.”

Henry was never good with words. He knew Yvonne’s cheap outfit was embarrassing, so he couldn’t come up with a retort.

Under their glares, I went upstairs to my room.

8.

The next morning at breakfast, Yvonne had changed her style. She was wearing a modest dress that older people liked—the kind that screamed “marriage material.”

She kept her head down, spoke sweetly, and charmed our grandmother.

“Claire, learn from Yvonne. She’s obedient and family-oriented. You’re always so busy and reckless. What kind of behavior is that? A woman’s place is in the home. Leave the company matters to your uncles and brother.”

Grandma’s face was kind, her smile warm, but her words were full of favoritism.

The business our parents had worked so hard to build had been gutted by our uncles and Henry in just a few years. Its market share had been cut in half.

What was once a united company had become a carcass for them to pick apart.

While I was abroad, my uncles had been busy transferring assets and siphoning money to their own families.

Henry’s failed investments had left him desperate for cash, so he sold his shares at a low price.

I found out and quietly bought up all of Henry’s shares, becoming the largest shareholder.

Since they didn’t want to run the business properly, I would.

On one hand, I promoted my own people and sidelined my uncles. On the other, I gathered evidence of their asset transfers and embezzlement.

The company was finally getting back on track. But the people who had tried to strip it bare were now getting greedy.

They whispered to Grandma that I was a girl, and once I married, I wouldn’t be part of the Warrington family anymore.

Grandma had always favored boys over girls. She tried to use “filial piety” to force me to “return” the company to my uncles. But I didn’t care.

Seeing that I wasn’t responding, Grandma turned her attention to Yvonne, who seemed more docile and pleasing in comparison.

She called for the housekeeper, Mrs. Chen, and went to her room to retrieve a jade bangle she kept locked in a chest.

The bangle was wrapped in soft cloth. Even though I’d seen it countless times, I was still struck by its warm, green glow.

It was a deep, rich green—the finest jade. Even an amateur could tell that this bangle was worth dozens of prime city properties.

Yvonne was stunned. For a moment, she forgot to hide her greed, her mouth hanging open slightly.

Before Grandma could even speak, Yvonne was already reaching out to take it.

I raised an eyebrow at Henry, signaling him to take a good look at the kind of girl he’d brought home.

Grandma was sharp. She saw Yvonne’s eager hand, smiled warmly at her, and carefully wrapped the bangle back in its cloth, placing it securely in the box.

Henry gently took Yvonne’s hand, saving her from the awkward moment, but his eyes held a warning for her to be patient and dignified.

I watched the whole farce with amusement. Everyone was playing their part, but beneath the surface, they all had their own agendas.

Grandma hadn’t actually planned to give the bangle away. She took Yvonne’s hand and said kindly, “This bangle is for my future granddaughter-in-law. If you and Henry get along well, you can wear it at your wedding.”

I could imagine Yvonne cursing under her breath.

She was still too naive to outsmart the old fox.

But this wasn’t my problem. While everyone was distracted, I quickly grabbed the box and put it in my bag.

“Grandma, you can’t give this bangle away. It was my mother’s dowry. In their will, our parents clearly stated that it belongs to me. If you’ve forgotten, you can ask the housekeeper to check.”

On the day of the crash, I learned that my parents had already written their wills. All the cash and properties were split evenly between Henry and me. But the bangle was left to me alone.

It was my mother’s most treasured heirloom.

I’d left it in Grandma’s care all these years because I didn’t want to bring up painful memories.

But now, she was using it to buy favor with a potential granddaughter-in-law.

Grandma knew she was in the wrong, but she didn’t like being called out in public. “Claire, we’re all family. Why be so petty? Harmony is the most important thing.”

I was used to being treated unfairly. I didn’t feel like arguing. I was afraid I’d give the old woman a heart attack.

Yvonne’s face was a whirlwind of emotions. It was entertaining enough to keep me amused all day.

The precious jewelry she thought she was getting was now mine. She was visibly furious, but she tried to act like it didn’t matter. Her features twisted in a struggle that made me want to laugh.

Grandma patted Yvonne’s hand soothingly. “Don’t mind her, Yvonne. Claire has always had a bad temper. I’ll give you another piece of jewelry another day. The Warringtons won’t mistreat their granddaughter-in-law.”

“Another day.” That was such a classic line. It was like a boss promising a bonus that would never come.

I knew Grandma too well. Henry’s marriage was nowhere in sight. Why would she give expensive jewelry to an outsider?

I laughed internally, stood up, and gave Yvonne a bright smile. “Excuse me, everyone. I have things to do.”

She stared at my bag, her eyes longing.

9.

I left the old mansion and had the driver take me straight to the gallery in the city center.

Today was the opening of the most anticipated art exhibition in the city, and I was invited as the opening speaker.

To be honest, I wasn’t an art expert. I’d only taken a few years of sketching and oil painting as a child, so I had a basic appreciation.

But I was incredibly lucky. During a summer vacation in high school, I was traveling in Europe with a classmate when I stumbled upon an oil painting at a flea market.

It was a simple subject—a quiet landscape. A few modest houses nestled among trees, with rolling mountains in the distance.

But I couldn’t look away. The brushstrokes were skilled and powerful. The colors were full of tension yet surprisingly harmonious.

The frame was old and battered, and the painting was covered in a thick layer of dust. There was no visible signature.

It was inconvenient to carry, but I was drawn to it. I insisted on buying it, and after much effort, I brought it back to China and hung it in the study at the old mansion.

Later, a friend of my mother’s, an artist, came to visit. When she saw the painting, she was amazed and suspected it might be a lost work by Paul Cézanne, the “father of modern painting.”

We brought in professionals to authenticate it. It turned out to be a genuine Cézanne.

Although the painting was worn, a close inspection with professional equipment revealed a faint signature in the lower left corner.

Since then, whenever there was a high-profile oil painting exhibition in the country, the organizers would contact me to borrow the piece.

I became a regular at major exhibitions.

In high school, this painting made me famous online.

Netizens marveled that a child from a wealthy family not only had money but also artistic taste. A painting bought for a few hundred euros was now worth who knows how many times that.

That year, art appreciation classes became all the rage in elite circles. Wealthy matrons scrambled to enroll their children.

Henry was jealous. “Claire just got lucky.”

But my mother shook her head. “Claire has an eye for beauty.”

After the exhibition opening, I was chatting with a young artist.

Two familiar figures walked by—Henry and Yvonne.

Many wealthy heirs liked to pretend they were cultured, so famous art exhibitions became prime spots for socializing and even doing business.

They wouldn’t miss a chance to be seen at such an event.

My Cézanne was the centerpiece of the exhibition.

Henry was already familiar with the painting. He sneered and tried to pull Yvonne away to look at other works.

But Yvonne stopped in front of the painting, staring at my name on the plaque. I heard her mutter bitterly, “Henry, you’re so pitiful. How can your family be so unfair? The bangle goes to Claire, and this painting is hers too.”

I was speechless. I bought the painting. Of course it was mine.

Henry felt humiliated. “What’s so great about it? We’ll buy one too.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. I walked over and warned him, “Don’t be stupid. Things like that are rare. The art market is full of traps. Be careful.”

Henry looked away disdainfully. “I’m not a garbage collector. I’m not going to dig through flea markets.”

He took Yvonne’s hand. “We’ll go to the auction house this afternoon. They have expert-authenticated masterpieces. Pick one you like, and I’ll buy it for you.”

Yvonne snuggled into him, casting a sidelong glance at me. “Great. We’ll buy a famous painting too. Let’s see how she can still act so high and mighty.”

I was internally rolling my eyes. How naive. Did she think the auction house was any less treacherous?

With Henry’s intelligence and his remaining assets, he’d be fleeced clean.

10.

I went home to rest in the afternoon and received a call from a friend in the art world.

Henry and Yvonne had indeed gone to the auction house.

My friend laughed. “Your brother’s quite the spender. The girl with him took a liking to a Tang Dynasty calligraphy piece. Your brother swore he’d buy it and hang it in the living room to outshine your Cézanne.”

I remembered that Tang Dynasty piece. It was displayed in the most prominent spot at the auction house.

A famous work, in excellent condition, with a low starting price.

A piece like that should have been a hot commodity, fought over by collectors. There was no reason for it to go unsold for years.

Insiders knew the piece was of questionable authenticity. It had been on the market for years, but no professional authentication agency would vouch for it.

Usually, that meant the agencies knew it was fake but were leaving room for the owner to save face.

Once the piece was sold, the agencies and the auction house would get a hefty commission for staying quiet.

For years, no one had fallen for it. But now, Henry was rushing to be the fool.

He was still family. I couldn’t bear to see him get cheated. I sent him a WeChat message, warning him that the piece might be fake.

But he didn’t listen. He snapped back, “Mind your own business. You just can’t stand to see me happy.”

When I tried to message him again, I found he’d blocked me.

I sighed. Everyone has their own path.

11.

The annual autumn art auction began, drawing the attention of the entire elite circle.

Art investment was a way to preserve and grow wealth while showing off one’s taste. No prominent family in Linshire would miss it.

The first few lots were rare, high-value items that required proof of funds to enter the inner hall.

The Tang Dynasty piece Henry and Yvonne had their eyes on was in the first session.

I knew Henry didn’t have much cash left. He’d probably mortgaged a few properties to qualify for the auction.

After much hesitation, I decided to go and watch the show.

News that Henry was bidding on the Tang Dynasty piece spread quickly through the circle. Acquaintances came to watch the spectacle.

But Henry clearly wasn’t well-liked. No one warned him about the obvious scam.

When I arrived, almost all the seats were taken. The only empty one was next to Victor Qin in the last row.

I pretended not to know him well, exchanging polite pleasantries. He played along, but his eyes betrayed a hint of displeasure.

Henry and Yvonne sat in the front row, center seats. Henry looked smug, like a proud rooster.

I debated whether to warn him one last time. After his string of failed investments, he probably only had seven or eight properties left in the city. If he sold them to buy a fake painting, he’d be in real trouble.

But seeing the look on his face, I knew it was useless. I’d done my part. I’d warned him once. His path was his own to walk.

The Tang Dynasty piece had a low starting price. Henry confidently raised his paddle. No one else bid.

Just as the hammer was about to fall, a phone bidder called out a higher price.

Phone bidders were usually buyers who couldn’t attend in person or didn’t want to reveal their identities.

Henry didn’t want to lose the painting. He raised his paddle again.

But the phone bidder matched him, driving the price higher.

The audience held their breath as the price doubled.

Even if the painting were genuine, the current price was steep.

Henry hadn’t expected a rival bidder. The price was far beyond what he’d planned.

From where I sat, I could see the sweat on his neck. But his vanity was at stake, and his girlfriend was looking at him with adoring eyes. There was no way he’d back down.

I even wondered if Yvonne was a plant sent by the owner to fleece Henry.

But at least I knew the phone bidder was definitely working with the owner.

The phone bidder raised the price again. Henry hesitated this time, but everyone was watching. After a few seconds, he glanced at Yvonne and raised his paddle once more.

The phone bidder didn’t counter.

The hammer fell. The fake painting was Henry’s.

12.

The auctioneer congratulated Henry warmly.

Yvonne threw herself into his arms, ignoring everyone else. Henry was ecstatic, striding to the stage and inviting all the guests to a nearby club for drinks.

I turned to leave, but Victor grabbed my hand. “Claire, shall we go celebrate too?”

He, who was always so aloof, was smiling brightly, even winking at me mischievously.

Why was he so happy?

Then it hit me. The auction was being streamed live online. Several times, Victor had deliberately looked at the camera, nodding or shaking his head at key moments when Henry was bidding.

During the auction, I’d been too busy mourning the family fortune Henry was throwing away to notice Victor’s strange behavior.

A bold guess formed in my mind. “Was that painting yours?” I stared into Victor’s eyes.

He didn’t flinch. He nodded openly.

“How does it feel?” he asked, smiling as if he were waiting for praise.

I turned away in disgust. I hated Henry and Yvonne, but seeing someone exploit his stupidity to steal the Warrington money—money my parents had worked so hard to earn—left a bitter taste in my mouth. And Victor was bragging about it.

This circle was truly treacherous. I didn’t want to see him anymore.

I walked away quickly, but in the empty hallway, I heard Victor’s low voice. “Claire, you know I don’t need the money. I just wanted to help you get back at him. I’ve liked you for years. Everything I have can be yours.”

I stopped in my tracks, my heart heavy. Tears welled up in my eyes as I thought about everything I’d been through.

But I didn’t turn around. I said coldly, “We’re not right for each other. Don’t see me anymore.”

Henry paid the auction house in full immediately. He took the painting home and hung it in the most prominent spot in the old mansion’s living room. He posted several moments on social media, bragging about his artistic taste.

The fake compliments poured in. Henry was thrilled.

Soon, news of Henry’s “masterpiece” purchase made headlines.

Most comments were from outsiders, marveling at his wealth. But a few knowledgeable people pointed out that the painting’s authenticity was questionable.

“The starting price was low, and it’s been unsold for years. It might be a fake.”

This comment enraged Henry. He started arguing with the commenter online, accusing them of being jealous.

The commenter shot back, “If Henry can produce an authentication certificate from a reputable agency, I’ll apologize publicly.”

I couldn’t believe it. Henry had been too confident to consult any experts before buying, but now he was making a big show of contacting several agencies, even bringing reporters along for a live stream.

But one after another, the agencies apologized on camera, saying, “We cannot issue an authentication certificate for this piece.”

Anyone with half a brain could see the painting was a fake.

Within days, the news that Henry had been scammed spread across social media, even trending on the hot search list.

Henry was humiliated. He threw a tantrum at the old mansion, smashing things. According to the housekeeper, he even slapped Yvonne in front of Grandma, leaving the house in chaos.

I hadn’t been back to the old mansion in a long time.

After reclaiming my mother’s bangle, I realized something: a place is only a home when the people who love you are there.

I had long since drifted apart from the people living in that house.

13.

After the auction, Victor called me several times. I didn’t answer.

The elite circle was too complicated, too dirty. I just wanted to focus on my work and run the company my parents left behind.

I was busy with work during the week, and on weekends, I stopped going back to the old mansion.

Finally, I found time to participate in a small equestrian competition at the outskirts’ riding stable.

When I was a child, I saw a scene in a TV drama where the protagonist rode a horse freely across the plains. I pestered my parents into buying me a purebred pony from Europe and hired a professional coach for weekly training.

The horse became my best friend during my lonely childhood.

Throughout middle school and college, I never stopped training. I even won a few regional competitions.

But after returning to China, work took over, and my training fell by the wayside. Recently, I decided to focus on myself and live my own life. I stopped meddling in Henry’s affairs and drew a clear line between myself and my biased family.

I resumed my equestrian training and started competing in amateur events again.

To my surprise, Henry, Yvonne, and Victor were all at the stable.

Yvonne stood at a distance, her face still bruised. When the wind blew, the hem of her dress lifted, revealing large purple bruises on her legs.

Her eyes were full of venomous hatred, a look that didn’t belong on someone so young.

She must have had a rough few weeks after Henry bought the painting.

Henry saw me and stormed over, trying to shove me. The security guard stopped him.

He cursed loudly. “Claire, you traitor! You colluded with that bastard Victor to cheat the Warrington family out of our money!”

I was startled. So Henry wasn’t completely stupid. He’d figured out that Victor was behind the painting.

He must have seen me sitting next to Victor at the auction and suspected we were in cahoots.

Henry was always like that. When he made mistakes, he blamed everyone else. He never remembered that I’d warned him multiple times.

But his curses grew uglier. “You curse! You killed Mom and Dad! Now you’re teaming up with outsiders to ruin me!”

When he mentioned our parents, my heart ached. I turned away, struggling to hold back my tears.

Victor suddenly stepped forward, ignoring the security guard, and punched Henry to the ground. He hit him again and again, his voice fierce. “I was the one behind the painting. Claire had nothing to do with it. You’re stupid and rotten, and you deserve everything that’s happened to you. I’ll pay you back for everything you did to Claire when you were kids.”

I was stunned. I suddenly remembered that when Henry had his friends shoot me with plastic pellets, he’d come home with a bruised face.

The toad in my backpack? Victor had thrown it away.

When I went abroad for middle school, I turned around at the security checkpoint to wave goodbye to my parents. I was surprised to see Victor waving back at me.

So he’d been watching over me all along, during my lonely,委屈-filled teenage years.

But right now, I didn’t want to face Victor. I just wanted to finish the equestrian competition.

My horse was beautiful and elegant. She’d grown up with me since childhood. When I was with her, I could forget my worries and just be myself.

It was my turn. My horse trotted rhythmically, circling the arena gracefully.

I was surprised to see Henry, despite his bruised face, still watching from the sidelines.

Yvonne held his hand, her eyes fixed on me.

I told myself to focus and ignore the irrelevant people. The next event was the most dangerous: jumping obstacles.

But I was confident. My horse and I had practiced this countless times.

My horse picked up speed. As she leaped into the air, I clearly saw the smug, cunning expression on Yvonne’s face. Her lips curled into a sinister smile.

In mid-air, I felt my horse’s front legs give way, as if they had no