The sunlight was ridiculously warm, almost like the world had rewound to that brief era when she wasn’t branded a venomous witch.
Nora Whitmore was kneeling in the middle of the villa’s hall, hair messy, posture a wreck—yet somehow she still curled her lips into a tiny, lazy smile.
In her head, the system snapped, sounding like it wanted to smack her.
[Relaxed? Girl, that’s not “calm and collected,” that’s straight-up “dead pig not scared of boiling water.” The male leads are all here. Fix your face unless you’re ready to die.]
The moment the system’s voice chimed in, Nora—who a second ago was mentally debating whether a human backside could technically consume food—shuddered hard.
“I’m sorry, it’s all my fault, please don’t hurt me, I’m begging you, please, I’m sorry—please just let me go…”
Jensen Shaw walked in right in time to catch her trembling all over like a kicked stray, and the disgust that flashed through his sharp, cold eyes was exactly like the moment you realize you got splash-back on your leather shoes in a restroom.
“Shut up. You didn’t hesitate at all when you shoved Chloe down the stairs. Spare us the innocent act.”
He had honestly planned to treat her a bit better, considering she was technically Chloe’s half sister. Who knew this woman was shameless and greedy to the point of insanity—couldn’t seduce them, so she went after Chloe instead.
[So what if I’m acting innocent? Life screwed me sideways and I can’t even do some performance art?]
Jensen: “…?”
The irritation on his face abruptly froze.
Who said that?
Everyone else looked completely normal, and he alone stood there like a stray dog that lost its way—confused and borderline spooked.
“I shouldn’t have pushed her, it was my fault, please don’t do this to me, I’m begging you—sob sob—it’s all my fault…”
Her crying dragged his mind back. Jensen let out a cold laugh.
“You think you even deserve to say her name?”
[Bro, stop laughing. Has anyone told you your nose scrunches up like a—yeah, like *that*.]
[I swear I have to bite my cheeks every time you laugh. No wonder the heroine banned you from smiling at other women. You seriously have zero self-awareness hahahaha—]
[Forget it, your nose already looks like *that*, I’ll be charitable. Hurry up and feed me poison, let me die on schedule so I can reincarnate as a rich only-daughter in Jiangzhehu or something.]
Jensen: “…”
That voice again. Clear. Crisp. Echoing right in his skull.
If he kept insisting it was a hallucination, he’d need to book himself a neurology appointment ASAP.
Oh wait—he’s a big-shot CEO with doctor buddies. Guys like him don’t queue for appointments.
“What’s the point of yelling at her?”
Nolan Ashford, the ever-gentle-on-the-surface second male lead, let a smile tug at his lips, though his eyes stayed cold.
“Isn’t she super into throwing herself at people? Fine then. Take off one piece of clothing—ten grand each. Just think of it as me paying tribute for your early funeral. How about that?”
Besides the main group, a few gossip-hungry onlookers hid in the corners, craning their necks. Nolan’s method was aimed right at the softest spot. Nora Whitmore might be cowardly, but being an illegitimate daughter made her desperately cling to her pride outside. Doing this in front of so many people… it’d kill her spirit before killing her body.
Sure enough, on her knees, Nora shook even harder. She lifted her head toward Nolan, disbelief written all over her face, but the second she met his gaze, her eyes dropped again. Her teeth caught her lip. Her trembling hands moved as if she was about to—
She tossed out two socks.
And in their heads, her voice blasted loud and clear:
[Wow, seriously? We doing this? Fine, sis will take twenty grand first.]
[I’m never judging you for being harsh again. You talk mean but damn you’re cheap.]
[And FYI, that long-lost baby brother of yours? Still living in my house. Don’t pay up and I swear I’ll snip off your hemorrhoids and feed them to him.]
Mean-mouthed and cheap-as-hell · Male Lead No. 2: “…”
Her crisp thoughts echoed in every man’s mind, making all of them freeze like someone had unplugged their brains.
[Why aren’t you moving? Isn’t this where Male Lead No. 3 jumps in seamlessly to humiliate me, inject me with poison, and send me off to the afterlife?]
Male Lead No. 3—who actually had planned exactly that—froze, horrified: Wait. I’m… I’m just the third male lead?!
Every man here was a top-tier golden boy. After the initial jolt, they quickly masked their expressions.
Jensen Shaw went silent, replaying in his head every detail of how Chloe Whitmore used to forbid him from smiling at others.
Nolan Ashford was stuck on one line: “Your brother’s in my house.”
And suddenly, the whole room went so quiet it felt poisoned.
[Still standing there? What happened, underwear stuck in your crack?]
Nora peeked up cautiously at the guy who was supposed to be shipping her off to heaven just a moment ago—Male Lead No. 3.
The third man just stood there, speechless.
To prove his designer underwear really was that fancy, he stepped forward two paces and cut straight to the point. “Let’s get this over with.”
So what if they’d maybe heard this woman’s thoughts? That didn’t magically erase what she’d done to Chloe.
A servant who’d been waiting on cue came up holding a syringe.
Nora Whitmore quietly let out a breath, but on the surface she looked terrified, scrambling back like she honestly believed she could dodge death by moving half a step.
In her head, though—
[I already decided—after I get reincarnated, the first thing I’m doing as an adult is using my CET‑6 English to flirt with some foreign hottie.]
[hellohuaguniang~]
Everyone: “…”
So seducing us isn’t enough? You’ve got a whole international route planned now?
Just as the needle was about to touch her skin, Nolan Ashford—who’d been silent this whole time—suddenly spoke up. “Hold on.”
The others shot him looks loaded with meaning.
They’d assumed only they could hear those ridiculous inner thoughts. Nolan’s little brother had been missing for years; the whole Ashford Clan had searched endlessly. How could that kid possibly be with her?
After all, Nora’s brain was about as reliable as her so‑called CET‑6 English.
Nolan smiled gently. “If she dies right now, it lines up with that whole ‘only daughter of Jiangzhehu’ superstition. Let her check in at the underworld a bit later.”
Everyone paused, thinking it over.
…Weirdly enough, that kind of made sense.
Nora: “???”
[Hey don’t say stuff like that, it’s creepy. You’re acting like you can actually hear what I’m thinking.]
The crowd’s expressions shifted.
So it really *was* her inner voice.
"Cut the tricks. No one’s pulling you out of this."
Jensen Shaw strode over, voice cold enough to freeze the air.
The others glanced her way, slow and a little mocking.
So you’re not sneering anymore, huh, man?
Nora Whitmore dragged her numb body backward, trembling. Her eyes were swollen red, shining with desperate pleading.
Jensen didn’t show a shred of pity. He lifted his hand, signaling the guy with the syringe to move.
Nolan Ashford might be stalling for some reason, but Jensen? He never hesitated. Other than Chloe Whitmore, he had zero weak spots.
[How tragic. Sure, he’s the “male lead,” but honestly? He’s not even Chloe’s number one.]
[Everyone keeps saying he’s her top choice, but nope—he’s basically just a backup dude. She loses him, she won’t even blink.]
Jensen: ?!
The others: ……
The wording was brutal, but damn if it didn’t sound kind of true.
"Hold up."
It was the second time today Jensen had said “stop,” which was wild enough by itself.
The guy with the syringe froze.
Great. Another delay. As if the workday wasn’t already annoying—was she getting executed or not?!
Now every person in the room was staring hard at Nora.
So who the hell *is* Chloe’s number one?
Nora stared at the needle being pulled back, then looked up at the men watching her like she’d grown a second head.
"Seriously, what’s wrong with you guys? Your underwear ride up and suddenly all your gazes drift to me?"
"Staring at me won’t help. I’m not your personal rescue team, okay?"
Everyone: "…"
Yeah. Ending her might be the easiest solution.
Just as the air was about to freeze, Jensen Shaw’s assistant rushed in, looking both nervous and out of breath.
"Mr. Shaw, Holden Blackwood is here."
