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!

kicked the base of Grant's

to steady himself after clutching the armrest,

with

despise those who fake being crippled to garner sympathy. If you're truly paralyzed,

turned and left, vanishing with Ian through the front door

sat motionless for a long time. Finally, he rose from the wheelchair, his eyes blazing

his phone vibrated. Breathing

"Is it done?"

Clarice hesitated briefly before replying respectfully, "We've

to suppress the fury stirred by Justin. His voice was

mountain, the

bullet. Despite her fierce resistance, she was outnumbered and overpowered. Iler body was battered and bleeding. The once-pristine snow beneath her turned crimson with her blood-a

Clarice approached leisurely, wrapped in a luxurious white

with disdain. "Christopher met his miserable end because of his foolish mercy. When your precious Pivotage fell, he should've put

face nearly blended with the snow. Trembling fingers clawed at the icy ground, the searing cold acted as her only