Chapter 3

By the afternoon, Eleanor had hired the most ruthless high-society deportment coach in the city.

"Miss Summer, a lady's spine must never bend!"

The coach glared at my relaxed stance. Frowning, she pulled out a long sewing pin and walked behind me, aiming to prick my back to force me to stand straight.

Snap!

A sharp sound echoed. The pin snapped in half.

My trapezius and latissimus dorsi muscles, forged from years of heavy squats, were not something a tiny pin could penetrate.

The coach held the broken needle, looking like she had just seen a ghost.

Gulping, she changed tactics. She placed a bowl of water on my head and ordered me to do a runway walk, demanding "soft, elegant steps."

Annoyed, I rested my hand on the mahogany dining table.

"Are we done yet?"

The moment the words left my mouth, my grip tightened, and I literally crushed a chunk of the solid mahogany corner into splinters.

Eleanor gasped behind me, nearly fainting. But for the sake of the marriage alliance, she forced herself to stay quiet and hurriedly dismissed the coach.

I lay back on the sofa, closing my eyes to rest.

The door creaked open, and Chloe sneaked in.

She slid a small bottle of muscle rub into my hand, her eyes welling with tears.

"Roxy... I'm so sorry. I'm just so afraid of pain, which is why I let them force you..."

She took a deep breath, clenching her small fists as if making a life-changing decision.

"But don't worry! I'll save up my allowance secretly! In the future, if Damian beats you up, I will pay for all your medical bills! I won't let you get hurt for nothing!"

Looking at her stupid but brave face, I couldn't help but pinch her soft, chubby cheek.

I had to admit, it felt pretty nice.

Though this fake sister of mine was weak and cowardly, she at least had a conscience. She was much better than the other snakes in this house.

Before I could say anything, a burst of loud laughter came from the hallway.

Julian walked in, flanked by a few of his rich, spoiled friends.

Seeing me, the guys didn't even try to hide their mockery.

"Whoa, Julian, is this the long-lost sister you guys found? Damn, with that dark skin and those muscles, she'd be great at a construction site!"

Julian sneered, his eyes filled with absolute disdain.

"What do you expect? She was raised by a trashy underground street fighter. She smells like garbage and behaves like a beast. She's only fit to be a punching bag for the Vance family's maniac."

The moment he said "trashy underground street fighter," I stood up.

Julian's arrogant face drained of color. His knees buckled, and he fell backward onto the sofa, his voice cracking into a high pitch.

"What... what do you think you're doing!"

"Roxy!"

Richard walked out of his second-floor study, waving the land deed in his hand.

"Don't you dare touch your brother. Try it, and I will have that dump of a gym demolished by tomorrow morning!"

I stared at the deed, my fists clenched so hard my palms began to bleed.

Taking a deep breath, I forced the violent urge back down.

"I don't need you to remind me," I said, my voice dead.

That evening, Eleanor sent over a expensive, diamond-encrusted strapless gown. I threw it straight into the trash can.

Instead, I dug through the closet and found a sharp, custom-tailored black tuxedo.

When I put on the suit, tied the tie, and pulled my messy hair back into a sleek, high ponytail, the person in the mirror was no longer a lamb waiting for the slaughter.

My broad shoulders filled out the suit perfectly. My tight waist highlighted my explosive frame, and my long legs looked deadly and elegant.

I sneered at my reflection.

Damian Vance, huh?

I hope you can last three rounds under my fists.