The Divorced Heiress’s Revenge

Justin descended the stairs with long, rapid strides. Each of his steps felt more urgent than the last. Trailing behind him was Tan, running to keep up.

As they entered the living room, Justin caught sight of Grant seated alone in his wheelchair, with an upright and composed posture. Their gazes locked, tension crackling like a drawn blade.

"Going out so late, Justin? Where are you heading?" Grant's lips curled into a faint smile, his tone light yet probing.

Ian clenched his fists, barely suppressing the urge to kick over the wheelchair and wipe the smug expression off Grant's face.

"You? Awake at this hour?" Justin's voice was cold, his thin lips parting briefly, "Seems your half-disabled body has quite the stamina.' "You look anxious, Justin. Is there something urgent? Do you need my help?" Grant ignored the sarcasm, his smile unwavering. "It's none of your concern." With that, Justin strode past him like a cold gust of wind.

"Justin," Grant called out, his tone calm yet sharp. "Many things and people have nothing to do with you. Why insist on wading into the muddy waters and inviting trouble for yourself?"

Justin's steps faltered briefly, a chill creeping into his chest.

This so-called elder brother of his never wasted words. Behind his gentle facade was a sophisticated mind capable of causing chaos without lifting a finger.

To the outside world, Grant appeared to be a saint. But beneath that polished exterior lurked a cesspool of corruption, gnawed away by deceit and cruelty.

Justin's sharp eyes narrowed. He turned and approached his brother.

Bang!

the

He barely managed to steady himself after clutching the armrest, but the

with glee. 'Serves him

Justin said coldly, leaning closer, his tall frame looming over Grant. "But I despise those who fake being crippled to garner sympathy. If you're truly paralyzed, I wish you a swift recovery. If you're pretending, then I hope you're

words, Justin turned and left, vanishing with Ian

Finally, he rose from the wheelchair, his eyes blazing red. With a roar, he kicked the chair over, sending

that moment, his phone vibrated. Breathing heavily, he answered, his

"Is it done?"

before replying respectfully,

his bloodshot eyes, trying to suppress the fury stirred by Justin. His voice was hoarse

mountain, the blizzard howled through the

by a bullet. Despite her fierce resistance, she was outnumbered and overpowered. Iler body was battered and bleeding. The once-pristine snow

make way as Clarice approached leisurely, wrapped in a luxurious white fur coat.

eyes glinting with disdain. "Christopher met his miserable end

clawed at the icy ground,