"You're trash, and you deserve to own nothing but trash!"
She tore the painting to shreds in front of me, then stomped on the remnants with vicious glee.
Amanda, scrutinizing the ruined artwork, gasped.
"That painting is a master's original! I heard it started at a 300-million-dollar auction!"
Felicity shrugged it off brazenly. "So what if it's 300 million dollars? That's still my husband's money!
"And what's his is mine, so I can do whatever I want with my own stuff."
Her ludicrous claim left me speechless.
Logan, far from being the wealthy tycoon they perceived, was a penniless arriviste. Even with the reins of All Grand Group in his hands, his ineptitude had slashed the company's market value by nearly half.
Were it not for his marital status, I would have long since fired him.
Yet, Felicity and these old classmates idolized him as a commanding CEO, hanging on his every word.
With Felicity leading the charge, the others followed suit, wrecking and shredding the contents of my trunk with abandon.
Seeing them in a frenzy, I reckoned it was futile to intervene.
I quietly pulled out my phone to call the police.
Before I could dial, Felicity lunged at me, snatching my phone and smashing it to the ground with force.
"Calling the cops now, are you? You brazen mistress, what gives you the right?"
She then noticed the pendant around my neck, her eyes lighting up.
"That necklace looks pricey. Did you use my husband's money for that too?"
Before I could react, she yanked the necklace from my neck with brutal force.
Startled by her abrupt and violent action, I paled as I shouted, "Give it back!"
Seeing the sudden panic wash over me, Felicity smirked, her eyes glinting with malice. "Getting nervous, are we? That necklace must be worth a pretty penny!"
I felt a surge of desperation. "It's not about the money! It's important to me—just give it back!"
I lunged forward, reaching for the necklace.
This necklace wasn't just any piece of jewelry; it was a talisman my mother had fought tooth and nail to get for me.
I had been often sick when I was a child, bedridden and unconscious at four years old.
Doctors had told my parents to prepare for the worst, but my mother refused to give up hope.
She went to a church, praying fervently for my recovery.
My mother, in the sweltering heat of summer, climbed the arduous path to a mountaintop church.