Once Unwanted, Now Adored

1.Chapter 1 Kicked Out

The blizzard had raged for three days, burying Hillarica under a suffocating blanket of snow. The Sherman residence loomed like a frozen fortress. And there, on the icy driveway, the butler tossed Olivia's suitcase out.

"Ms. Summers, Mr. Sherman's orders: you're leaving today. The Sherman family was kind enough to take you in, but now that their real daughter has returned, your presence is no longer required," the butler said, his voice oozing disdain.

Then he tossed a slip of paper and a card onto the ground. "Here's the info on your birth parents, the Summers. And this is five thousand dollars. Consider it compensation for the years you spent with us."

Olivia didn't even glance at the card. "No need."

"And keep this," the butler scoffed, tossing down one last document—a formal disownment notice.

Olivia ignored that too, slinging her bags over her shoulder. If she wanted to find her real parents, she'd do it on her own terms. And she wasn't taking a single cent from the Sherman family.

The butler watched her with open contempt. 'Pathetic,' he thought. 'Too proud for her own good. Doesn't she realize? Since the true Sherman heiress had returned, why would they keep some nobody like her? That money is more than she deserved.'

"Then see you, Ms. Summers." With a final sneer, he slammed the door shut behind her.

Olivia didn't flinch. Head held high, she walked away, her thin frame cutting through the falling snow. She felt no grief—the Sherman family had never given her love, so why mourn them now?

From an upstairs window, laughter rang out as snowballs pelted the ground near her feet.

"Finally, she's gone. No more standing in Cheryl's way."

"Never belonged here anyway. I was half-afraid she'd refuse to leave."

Olivia heard every word. A cold smile touched her lips, her expression as unreadable as the winter storm around her. Catching a snowflake in her palm, she exhaled softly. 'Good riddance.'

*****

In a traditional courtyard in Kingtonelle, the Summers family had gathered for an urgent meeting.

At the center sat Samuel Summers, the family patriarch, dressed in a sharp suit that commanded respect. His stern voice cut through the tense silence as he glared at his grandsons. "You call yourselves capable men? It's been over a decade, and you still haven't found Ivy?"

The Summers brothers were among the most powerful men in Kingtonelle, each accomplished and formidable. Yet now, they stood with their heads bowed, shame and regret burning in their chests.

They were the ones who had lost her. Their little sister, Ivy, had been the sweetest child—quiet, gentle, always smiling like a cute doll. That day, they had been careless, distracted by their own games, and in the blink of an eye, she was gone.

For fifteen years, they had chased every lead, but the trail had gone cold after tracing her to a human trafficker's den. By the time they reached the town, Ivy had already vanished without a trace.

"Grandfather," one of them spoke up, voice firm with resolve. "I'll mobilize everyone immediately. We won't stop until we bring her home."

Before Samuel could respond, a breathless aide rushed in, clutching a stack of documents. His hands trembled as he stammered, "Sir, we-we've found her! We've located Ms. Ivy Summers."

Samuel shot to his feet, his own hands unsteady as he snatched the papers. "Where is she? Take me to her now."

"Hillarica," the aide blurted. "We don't have the exact location yet, but the confirmation is solid—she's there."

Samuel didn't waste another second. "Get the car ready. We're leaving for Hillarica immediately."

*****

After being cast out by the Sherman family, Olivia didn't return to the orphanage. She waited for the snow to ease. Evening fell before she finally trudged back to her apartment, a modest unit in one of Hillarica's older neighborhoods.

As she parked, her neighbor Laura called out, "Olivia, you're back late. Wanna come over for dinner tonight?"

Olivia offered a tired but polite smile. "Thanks, Laura, but I'm cutting back on carbs."

Downstairs, Helen, the woman who sold yogurt from her stall, handed her a cup. "Haven't seen you in weeks! My back's been killing me."

"Yeah, and my eyes are getting worse," another elderly resident chimed in. "We've been waiting for you to check on us."

Olivia was well-liked in the old complex. Most of the residents were retired officials, who enjoyed chatting with her. She was humble, kind, and never pried into their pasts, which made her a favorite among them.

The neighborhood might've looked ordinary, but it was full of hidden talent. Even Helen had once been Kingtonelle's most sought-after tailor, her designs worth a fortune.

Olivia never asked questions, though. She lived here simply because Grace Lane, the orphanage director, was nearby, making visits easier.

Arms crossed, Olivia scanned their faces and sighed. "Tomorrow afternoon, I'll set up a free clinic in the central square. And remember what I said? Follow my diet advice and cut back on the TV. That revenge drama isn't going anywhere."

Lately, the seniors had been obsessed with a hit revenge series, binge-watching late into the night and neglecting their health.

Caught red-handed, they exchanged guilty glances. "Alright, alright, we'll listen to you, Olivia."

It was remarkable how these accomplished individuals—some with shadowy pasts—would take orders from a young girl like her.

"Dr. Summers, you're back." A cheerful man in a button-up shirt hurried over, relief washing over his face. He'd been waiting for her return.

Olivia sidestepped as he got too close. "Stanley, personal space."

Flustered, he scratched his head and held out a key. "Sorry, I just missed you. Don't worry, though. I kept an eye on your place. No one's messed with it."

"Thanks." Olivia nodded and handed him some oranges.

Stanley grinned, shooting a pointed look at the others. They were always pestering her, and it annoyed him. "Thanks. So... you're staying for good this time?"

"Yeah," Olivia said, pocketing the key. "I'm not going anywhere."

Stanley smiled, "Great then. Drop by when you can. Oh, it's late. Get some rest. Call me if you need anything. Anytime."

With a small smile, Olivia nodded and headed inside.

After they left, Olivia unlocked her door. The exterior lock was plain, rusty and unremarkable.

But inside, it was a different story. Behind several reinforced locks stood a high-tech door with a biometric scanner. "Facial recognition required," a mechanical voice prompted.

Olivia tilted her face toward the screen. "Proceed."

"Scanning... Authentication complete. Welcome home, Master." The familiar automated greeting, unheard for weeks, signaled the door's release.

As it slid open, lights flickered to life, revealing a space that defied the building's shabby exterior. Shelves overflowed with jars of rare dried herbs, while weathered medical texts lined the walls. The balcony functioned as an improvised greenhouse, thriving with medicinal plants.

Dominating the living room was a massive display screen, its interface tracking real-time fluctuations in microchip markets worldwide.

Olivia grabbed a slice of cake from the kitchen and settled in, ready to finally watch that addictive revenge drama everyone kept talking about.

Then the phone erupted with its obnoxious custom ringtone: "Olivia, jobs coming. Money coming! Olivia, jobs coming. Money—"

She slammed her palm on the answer button. "What?"

"Boss, lucrative job in Hillarica," her subordinate said. "Worth our time?"

Rubbing her temples, Olivia sighed, "Details."

"Kingtonelle's wealthiest patriarch is offering 10 million to find his missing granddaughter. Intel suggests she's somewhere in Hillarica."

Olivia stretched lazily. "Missing heiress retrieval? Pass. Anything actually challenging, or should I hang up?"

"Wait! Here's another one, and you'll love it."

"Really? Go on."

"The Shea family just posted a bounty—15 mil for intel on you, 25 for a consultation. Even credible tips get 1.5."

That got her attention. Olivia set down her phone. "Whoa, that's a fortune. Now that's interesting. Show me."

"On it."

2.Chapter 2 Questioning Her?

The room's main screen shifted instantly to holographic mode, projecting the Shea family's extensive dossier. Their lineage stretched back five centuries, with ancestors serving as royal advisors, effectively ruling from the shadows.

Current intel showed they'd summoned top physicians to Hillarica's Orion Tower, screening them to treat family patriarch Andrew Shea. His prognosis was medically beyond salvation, though.

The game just got compelling. Olivia settled back, one leg casually draped over the other. "Tell them I'm in."

"Perfect. I'll have them wire the money."

"Payment upon completion," Olivia interrupted. "You know my terms."

Money was Olivia's primary motivator, but impossible medical cases ran a close second. The more hopeless, the better. This Shea situation was just textbook perfect.

Here she was, the legendary Phantom Healer. Ironically, she might be the only physician who didn't care about the Shea name. For families like the Sherman family, merely receiving an invitation would require calling in every favor they had.

Overnight, Hillarica buzzed with activity. First, Kingtonelle's elite were searching for a lost heiress. Then the Shea family's medical summons. Whispers spread that they'd come specifically because the Phantom Healer operated here.

The city's rumors about the mysterious doctor varied wildly. Some claimed he was a middle-aged man named Frank, while others swore he was a century-old spirit. And with the Shea family involved, the elusive healer might finally show their face.

*****

The next morning, Olivia got up early, splashed some water on her face, and decided to skip driving to avoid the morning rush. Instead, she grabbed her scooter at the gate and took off at a leisurely pace.

"Olivia, you're up early today," someone called out.

She grinned. "Gotta make a living, don't I?"

An hour later, she arrived at Orion Tower, one of Hillarica's most famous landmarks. The lobby was buzzing with activity, and the entrance was packed.

It looked like every big shot in the city had shown up. Among the rows of luxury cars, Olivia's scooter stuck out like a sore thumb.

The guards here judged by the ride, not the rider. Before she could even park, one of the guards waved her off. "Hey, you! This isn't some public park. Get lost. Private event today."

Olivia gave him a cool glance. "I'm here to heal that Shea guy."

The guard scoffed and laughed, "Yeah, right. How old are you? You don't even look like you've got a medical license."

She smirked, pulling out her phone to send a quick voice message to her team. "Tell them the Phantom Healer's here. Someone better come get me."

The guard smacked the phone out of her hand. "Phantom Healer? Pull the other one. Got an invitation? No? Then stop wasting my time."

He jerked his chin toward a nearby luxury car. "Now that's a real VIP. Bet you've never even seen a car like that." With a sycophantic grin, he rushed to open the door.

Inside the car sat Cheryl, the long-lost Sherman heiress, arm-in-arm with an elderly man.

"Mr. Evans, Ms. Sherman, everything's prepared inside," the guard gushed.

The two barely acknowledged him with a nod.

Through the window, Cheryl caught sight of Olivia. Her pale face flickered with confusion. 'What's she doing here?' she wondered.

The old man beside her noticed her hesitation. "Something wrong, Cheryl?"

She forced a smile. "Nothing, Henry. Just... first time at an event like this. I'll follow you and pay attention."

The old man, Henry Evans, gave an approving smile.

Meanwhile, Olivia didn't argue. She just swung her leg over her scooter and kicked off. A good physician knew when to walk away: some souls called for healing, while others reeked of nothing but transactional greed.

This wasn't a house call anymore; this was a waste of her stethoscope. Her phone was already in hand, thumb poised to swipe the appointment into oblivion.

Then a sharp scream cut through the air. "Oh my God! What happened?"

Near the luxury car, a crowd was gathering fast.

"Whose kid is this? Just running around like that?"

"Is she dead?"

Olivia's instincts kicked in. Without thinking, she pushed forward.

A little girl, no older than five, lay crumpled on the pavement. Her face was twisted in pain, her forehead slick with sweat.

Today was the Shea family's private medical consultation, so there were plenty of doctors around. One bystander grabbed the arm of a woman in a white coat. "Hey, you're a doctor, right? Help her, please."

The woman yanked her arm back, scowling. "I can't just treat her without family consent. What if something goes wrong? I'm not risking my license for some random kid. Besides, she'll probably wake up on her own. I have real patients waiting."

Olivia's jaw tightened. "A doctor who picks and chooses who to save doesn't deserve the title." She dropped to her knees beside the girl, her voice cutting through the noise. "Everyone, back up. She needs air."

Something in her tone made the crowd listen instantly, shuffling backward.

Olivia touched the girl's forehead, and then checked her pulse.

The offended woman sneered, "Who the hell are you? Some self-proclaimed child genius? You're not even qualified to question me."

Panicked murmurs rose around them.

"Yeah, just call an ambulance. You don't have to do anything. If this kid dies, it's on you."

"I saw the whole thing. She's got no parents around. She must've wandered off."

"Listen, girl, you'd better not make it worse, or her family'll sue you into oblivion."

Olivia ignored them. She sliced open the girl's vest and quickly carried her to the shade of a nearby tree.

The woman watched with a sneer. "You even got a medical license? You're gonna kill her."

Olivia barely glanced up, a faint smirk on her lips. This was the first so-called professional dumb enough to question her skills. "Relax. If she dies, it was on me."

Her hands moved swiftly as she unzipped her medical kit. The rows of needles were meticulously arranged. She checked the girl's pulse again, prepping for acupuncture.

"Stop," the woman barked. "You can't just stab needles into someone like that."

Olivia didn't even flinch. The needles were in as she checked the girl's pulse again.

The woman sneered, "I'm Natalie Evans, a grad student at Kingtonelle Medical University. My uncle is Henry Evans, the top surgeon in Hillarica. You think you can just play doctor with no license? Enjoy prison, fraud."

Olivia stayed focused, her voice calm. "Who said I'm unlicensed?"

Hillarica's licensing exam tested both medical mastery and raw skill, and it was brutal. Natalie barely passed, and only because Henry pulled strings. So she scoffed, "How old are you? Eighteen? No way you're certified. Just wait for the damn ambulance. Drop your act."

Olivia didn't look up. Looking all calm, she asked, her tone icy, "Wait? So she can die in the 'golden hour'? Some doctor you are."

3.Chapter 3 Make Her Pay

Natalie's face twisted. "You're the one wasting time with your fake medicine. Move. I'm doing CPR."

Olivia shot her a glare. "She passed out from low blood pressure, and CPR's your only move?" Her voice was razor-sharp. "Quack."

Natalie's face burned. She'd just returned from an international medical conference with the Henry Evans, and this nobody had the nerve to question her? "Who the hell do you think you are? Do you even know who my uncle is?"

"Don't care." Olivia kept working, pressing a critical pressure point. "Get out of my way, hack."

Natalie's fists clenched. "Fine, she fainted. But you really think sticking needles in her will help? If traditional medicine worked, why would we even need real doctors? You kill her, and it's on you."

Murmurs rippled through the crowd.

"She's right. Modern medicine is more reliable."

"Did you see how she checked the pulse, though? That looked legit."

When Olivia kept ignoring her, Natalie grabbed her arm. "Stop right there, you fraud."

Olivia's voice dropped to a dangerous chill. "Let. Go." Two things pissed her off beyond reason: people who trash-talked traditional medicine, and idiots who got between her and a patient.

Natalie released her with a shove. "Fine! Show me your magic tricks, then. Actually save her, and maybe I'll apologize."

Olivia didn't blink. "Better start rehearsing."

Olivia's hands moved fast, and three needles were placed with precision. The girl stirred, her brow furrowing slightly as a soft whimper escaped her lips.

The crowd erupted. "She's waking up!"

Natalie's jaw dropped. "No way... How the hell did a few needles do that?"

Olivia didn't hesitate. Two more needles flashed in her hands, finding their marks instantly.

Suddenly, the little girl's eyes flew open—big, round, and alert. Her pale face softened as she blinked up at Olivia, looking almost angelic.

All eyes widened in shock.

"Holy shit, she did it!" Frank, one of the bystanders, burst out laughing. "Five little needles and bam, she's back with us?"

Olivia carefully removed the needles, disinfecting the girl's arm. "Not random pokes," she corrected. "She fainted. Hit the right points, and the body responds."

Natalie scoffed, crossing her arms, "Oh, please. This has to be staged. Since when does jabbing someone with needles fix anything? Typical traditional medicine scam."

Olivia's glare could've frozen lava, but before she could fire back, the little girl piped up in a voice sweet but sharp. "Traditional medicine's been around for thousands of years. And you? You could do nothing. Maybe you should go back to school."

Natalie sputtered, face turning red. "Excuse me?!"

The crowd lost it, and laughter exploded around them.

Olivia smirked, wiping her hands. "She's got a point. Might wanna hit the books again."

"Pathetic peasants! I don't have time for this," Natalie spat, turning on her heel to leave.

A needle whistled past her ear, embedding itself deep into a pine tree behind her.

Natalie froze. One inch to the left, and it would've been her skull.

Olivia's icy voice cut through the silence. "Forgetting something, hotshot?" she smiled.

The crowd stiffened. That sweet-faced girl suddenly radiated something dark and dangerous.

Natalie swallowed hard, playing dumb. "What do you want?"

"An apology." Olivia tapped her temple, grinning like it was all a game.

Natalie's jaw clenched. This would destroy her reputation. "I don't get it. And I don't respond to frauds. My patients need me."

A bystander scoffed, "You're Henry Evans' niece? Damn, he'd be ashamed."

Natalie whirled around and slapped the man hard across the face. "Shut your mouth, trash! The Evans family owns every hospital in Hillarica. Piss me off, and none of you losers will ever get treated again."

The man's fists shook with rage. "You! How dare—"

Natalie, who had always sneered at ordinary people, failed to notice the icy danger flickering in Olivia's gaze.

With a careless flick of her wrist, Olivia sent a small stone flying. Natalie's knees gave out, and she crumpled to the ground with a sharp cry.

White-hot pain lanced through Natalie's leg. Her face twisted as the sickening crack confirmed that her kneecap must be shattered.

She tried to speak, to move, but her body refused to obey. It was as if some invisible force had locked her in place, rendering her helpless.

Olivia stepped forward, bending down until their eyes met. "A real doctor wouldn't miss a diagnosis this basic," she hissed, voice like a blade. "This isn't about your ego. It's about people's lives. And you? You're not just bad at your job.

"You're a disgrace to the profession. Stay down. Think about what you've done, if you're even capable of shame."

Natalie could only glare, fury burning in her eyes.

"Since you're related to Mr. Henry Evans," Olivia continued coolly, "I'll go easy on you."

A flicker of hope crossed Natalie's face.

"Spending the day like this won't kill you." Olivia watched her with a slow, merciless smile. "After all, Ms. Evans, no one pushed you. You chose to collapse."

Natalie let out a strangled whimper, unable to form words.

"Serves her right," someone in the crowd muttered.

"Yeah, calling people peasants? She's a disgrace to doctors," another added.

A particularly loud bystander shouted, "Hey, everyone! Check out the Kingtonelle best med student groveling for mercy."

Natalie's face burned with humiliation, but she couldn't even snap back. More and more people turned to stare, whispering and pointing. She wished the earth would split open and swallow her whole. Instead, she could only lie there, seething with hatred.

'That little bitch! Just wait. Next time we meet, I'll make her regret this,' she thought angrily.

Olivia didn't spare her another glance. If their paths crossed again, she wouldn't be so lenient.

An elderly man stepped forward eagerly. "Young lady, with skills like yours, you must come from a family of traditional healers, right?"

Olivia paused as her expertise hadn't come easily. Then she nodded. "Yes, my family practices traditional medicine."

"Does that mean you'll treat folks like us if we ever need help?"

"Of course," Olivia smiled warmly, without a trace of the Phantom Healer's usual aloofness. "Come to 22 Willow Lane. My clinic's always open."

4.Chapter 4 The Little Girl's A Big Deal

As the crowd dispersed, Olivia noticed the little girl she'd saved standing quietly to the side, watching her with wide eyes. She wasn't crying or fussing. Instead, she just observed, sweet as a button.

Olivia crouched down to her level and gently ruffled her hair. "You feeling alright?"

The girl shook her head, then surprised Olivia by clasping her hand. "Are you a fairy?"

Olivia laughed, "No, sweetheart. I'm just Olivia. I know a little about medicine, and that's all."

The girl, Jenny Shea, apparently blinked up at her with those big, earnest eyes. "Thank you for saving me, Olivia. I'm Jenny. That mean lady almost killed me." She stuck her tongue out at Natalie, still immobilized on the ground.

"Where's your family, Jenny?" Olivia asked.

Jenny pointed toward Orion Tower. "In there."

Orion Tower. That explained a few things. The people who lived there were wealthy and powerful. This kid's family was clearly no exception.

"Don't run off alone again, okay?" Olivia kept her voice gentle, though she wasn't usually one for patience. Strangely, something about this child tugged at her.

She checked her watch and found her next house call was coming up. Slinging her medicine bag over her shoulder, she added, "And with your condition, you should never go out without a bodyguard."

As Olivia turned to leave, Jenny suddenly wrapped her arms around her waist in a tight hug, staring up at her with silent determination. When Olivia took a step, the child followed like a shadow.

With a soft sigh, Olivia crouched down to Jenny's level. "Still not feeling well?" she asked gently.

Jenny shook her head, then surprised her with an unexpected question in that sweet, childish voice. "Olivia, do you have a boyfriend?"

Olivia blinked. "No, I don't," she answered honestly.

Jenny immediately brightened, planting her hands on her hips with triumphant confidence. "Then you should marry my brother Andrew. He's kinda serious, but super handsome and rich. You'd be really proud to be seen with him."

Olivia couldn't help but laugh, booping Jenny's nose playfully. "That's sweet, but I'm not looking to date anyone right now."

"But you have to at least meet him," Jenny insisted, her tiny face scrunched in determination. "He's seriously hot. Not satisfied? Just come to me." She spoke with absolute conviction about her brother's appeal.

Amused, Olivia tilted her head. "You're really pushing for this matchmaking, huh? Does your brother treat you poorly?"

"No, Andrew's wonderful to me and our family," Jenny said, her expression softening before turning worried. "But he works too hard and gets sick a lot. Everyone wants him to find someone who can take care of him."

She looked up at Olivia with hopeful eyes and continued, "You're so pretty and such a good doctor. You must have lots of suitors. I'm just getting Andrew in line early."

Olivia smiled and pulled out a homemade candy from her bag. "You should rest now. You're still recovering," she said, offering the treat.

Jenny obediently accepted it and then suddenly put on her best pitiful expression, batting her eyelashes. "Olivia... can you feed it to me?"

At that moment, Ethan arrived searching for Jenny, only to freeze at the unexpected scene.

'Jenny, who normally sinks her teeth into anyone daring to touch her, is not only allowing physical contact but being hand-fed candy? And by Olivia, of all people? She's just publicly disowned by the Sherman family!' he thought.

His eyes narrowed briefly before he smoothed his expression and approached. While everyone in their circle knew about Olivia's disgrace, she wouldn't recognize a mere assistant like him.

"Jenny," he called out, injecting just the right note of relieved exasperation. "Do you have any idea how much trouble you're in? Boss's been—"

"I'm not going." Jenny clung to Olivia's leg, chin jutting defiantly. "Olivia saved me. I'm staying with her."

Ethan offered Olivia a respectful nod. "We're grateful, Miss."

Olivia's gaze sliced through him like winter wind. "Jenny already expressed her thanks."

The intensity of her stare made Ethan shift uncomfortably. He turned back to Jenny with pleading eyes. "Please, Jenny. Boss skipped his medication when he heard you were missing. He came out here himself—"

Jenny's head whipped around. She didn't expect Andrew to look for her personally.

Following her gaze, Olivia noticed the figure standing in the shadows of Orion Tower's entrance. Even at this distance, the man commanded attention. His tailored suit hugged broad shoulders, every button fastened with military precision.

Olivia couldn't see his face clearly. Yet something about his posture—the slight stiffness in his spine and the way he avoided direct sunlight—spoke of chronic illness to Olivia's trained eye. The sort of patient who'd spent years battling his own body.

Ethan was practically wringing his hands now. "He won't take his pills until he sees you're safe. Please?"

Jenny hesitated only a second before squeezing Olivia's fingers. "Wait right here. I'll be super quick."

Olivia nodded. Jenny took off running toward the shadowed figure, leaving Olivia alone with Ethan.

Ethan held out a card, his tone polite but measured. "Thank you for helping Jenny. Please accept this."

Olivia didn't take it. Instead, she arched a brow, a faint smirk playing on her lips. "You seem to know who I am. In a hurry to cut ties?"

A chill ran down Ethan's spine. The pressure radiating off her was unmistakable and just as intense as Andrew's.

"I'm just an assistant. Why would I know you, Ms. Sherman?" The words slipped out before he could stop them. He'd said too much.

"Relax, I get the message. I'm not sticking around. Do me a favor, though. Wait five minutes before telling her I'm gone," Olivia said. Then she sped off on her scooter and left.

Ethan exhaled in relief. The last thing he needed was Olivia dragging the Shea family into something messy. They had a reputation for staying neutral. No alliances, no unnecessary drama.

Under the bright midday sun, Olivia adjusted her headphones, her ponytail swaying as she rode away. Her posture was straight, confident, leaving nothing but the faint hum of the engine behind.

From the doorway, Andrew caught only a fleeting glimpse of her before she disappeared. He crouched down, gently pinching Jenny's cheek. "Was that the one who saved you?"

"Yeah, Olivia's the best." Jenny tugged at his sleeve, spinning around in search of her. "Hey, where'd she go? Ethan?"

Ethan hurried over, dropping into a nervous crouch. "Yes, Ms. Shea?"

"Olivia promised to wait for me." Jenny's expression darkened, her voice turning stern. "Did you scare her off? She's gonna be with Andrew. How dare you!"

"It wasn't me, I swear—" Ethan's hands trembled. He didn't think he'd done a thing.

In all of Kingtonelle, nobody dared cross this little firecracker. At just five years old, Jenny Shea was sharp as a tack and twice as ruthless when crossed. She had Andrew's cunning, his temper, and his knack for playing the victim when it suited her.

The only person who could rein her in was Andrew himself—everyone else walked on eggshells around her. And yet, for some reason, she'd taken an instant liking to Olivia.

"She was just disowned by the Sherman family," Ethan admitted carefully. "I was only being cautious. But honestly, she left on her own. I didn't—"

5.Chapter 5 The Sherman Family

"Shut up," Jenny snapped. "Olivia saved me because she's kind. If you idiots hadn't lost me in the first place, I wouldn't have passed out on the street. Without her, I'd be dead thanks to that quack doctor. Just you wait—"

"Jenny." Andrew's voice cut through, low and icy. "Ethan's doing his job. Don't throw a fit."

Jenny knew that tone. Andrew only used it when he was really angry.

"But Andrew," she whined, flinging herself against him, "I worked so hard to find you a perfect girl, and he ruined it. Now Olivia's gonna hate me." The fake tears turned real as she buried her face in his shoulder.

Ethan looked down deeply, frozen in dread. 'I made Ms. Shea cry. I'm dead. So, so dead.'

Andrew sighed, brushing a tear from her cheek. "I'm not getting married. So stop trying to set up for me, alright?"

With a subtle gesture, he signaled Ethan to straighten up. The poor man nearly sagged in relief, his shirt drenched in sweat.

"Let's go," Andrew said. "The meeting's starting."

As the group turned toward the building, the glass doors reflected a face of striking, almost dangerous beauty—piercing eyes, pale lips, and an expression so cold that it could freeze fire.

He was powerful Andrew Shea, the untouchable head of the Shea Group. And yet, he was also the doomed patient, his illness beyond any doctor's reach.

"Since she saved Jenny's life," Andrew said, his voice measured, "we should show proper gratitude. Prepare some gifts. We'll pay our respects in person soon." His sharp gaze pinned Ethan in place. "And Ethan, don't overstep."

Ethan's shirt was still damp with sweat, but fresh fear prickled down his spine. "Yes, sir," he answered immediately.

'But there's a problem,' he wondered. 'She's been disowned by the Sherman family. Where would I even find her now? Right, the Sherman family. Maybe if they intervene, Olivia would be more receptive.'

How wrong he was. Of all people, Olivia wanted nothing to do with the Sherman family.

*****

Olivia had just put some distance between herself and the Sherman family when her phone buzzed. "Boss, we found the guy you wanted. Intel's been delivered," the voice said.

"Good work. Your bounty just went up five percent," Olivia said, pulling over and unlocking her phone with a quick glance.

"Hell yeah. Thanks, Boss."

Her screen lit up with a holographic display—rows of microchips, each marked as SOLD in bold red. The dark web interface flickered before splitting into multiple encrypted windows.

Then a photo appeared: a man slipping a stack of prototype chips into his coat pocket, flanked by armed guards as he entered a luxury hotel, which was one infamous for backdoor tech deals.

"The Sherman family really has no shame," Olivia muttered, her grip tightening on the phone. She knew exactly where those chips had come from.

But this operation was too slick for the Sherman family alone. Fragments of sharp, painful memory surfaced, making her chest constrict. 'Who's really pulling the strings here?' she wondered.

Suddenly, a sharp, cutting voice rang out from behind her. Olivia knew it all too well. It was Margaret, her adoptive mother, speaking with the same disdain as if she were scolding garbage, "Olivia? What are you doing here?"

Olivia turned to see a small crowd nearby. Alongside her adoptive father, William, were several Sherman family relatives, and Cheryl, the newly returned golden child.

Dressed in elegant finery, Cheryl clung to the arm of an elderly man, flashing a practiced smile. The old man patted her hand, his expression warm with approval. It was Henry Evans, the famous local doctor.

Margaret's lips twisted in irritation. She clearly assumed Olivia had followed them, lurking outside like some desperate stray. She scoffed, "You refused our money yesterday, and now you're chasing us here?

"We told you, your real parents are back in that backwater town. Why do you hang around where you don't belong? Have some dignity. Even if you beg, we won't take you back.

"If it's about the money, fine. I'll give you a little more. Just name your price and get lost."

She gritted her teeth. And her critical gaze swept over Olivia's simple outfit: the unadorned black coat, the faded jeans that somehow still managed to showcase those annoyingly perfect legs, the complete lack of makeup, that worn white bag slung carelessly over one shoulder.

Margaret smirked. 'Pathetic. Clearly, life without us has left her broke. Fine, I'll offer more. Anyway, she's lined the Sherman coffers well enough to justify a little extra. Without her, we would have been ruined years ago.'

"Fine. I know you're bitter about being some country nobody," Margaret sneered. "For old times' sake, I'll give you thirty thousand. Now scram."

Olivia arched a brow, amusement flickering in her eyes. She opened her mouth to respond.

But before she could, Henry cut in, his voice dripping with contempt. "Margaret, who is this?" He eyed Olivia's outfit with open disdain. "You brought this to a Shea family event?"

Margaret caught the warning in his tone and quickly stepped in. "Oh, just a student I used to sponsor. Imagine running into her here." She gave a pitying sigh. "She's fallen on hard times, so I thought I'd offer some help."

"Hmm." Henry nodded approvingly, patting Cheryl's hand. "Cheryl, you've got the same generous heart as your mother." Then his voice turned cold. "But you can't just let anyone wander in. There's a time and place for charity."

Cheryl lowered her eyes, the picture of wounded sympathy. "You're right. But poor Olivia, she really does seem to be struggling."

"Now that's the kind of grace I expect from a Sherman," Henry said, visibly pleased. He shot William an approving glance. "Your daughter is exceptional."

William, who had always despised Olivia, swelled with pride at the praise. 'Of course,' he thought. 'A real daughter brings honor, not like that ungrateful impostor, always moping around as if the world owed her something.'

Aloud, he said, "Cheryl's always had a tender heart. Even as a child, she couldn't bear to see others suffer."

Turning to Margaret, he muttered, "Take everyone inside. I'll handle this."

Margaret gave Olivia one last performative look of sympathy. "Do talk to her, dear. She's clearly going through a rough patch."

The group murmured approvingly, lapping up her act of kindness.

Olivia watched the whole display and nearly gagged. 'God, what a pack of pretentious vultures.'

"You want money, huh?" William sneered, thrusting a credit card at her. "Here, 30 thousand. Take it and get lost. Don't humiliate us here." Today was Cheryl's grand debut, her moment to shine in front of high society. The last thing they needed was this stray ruining everything.

Olivia kept her expression blank, but inwardly, she was laughing. '30 thousand? That's it? Do they really think I'm some broke charity case begging for scraps?'

The crowd watched, expecting her to snatch the money with grateful tears. Instead, Olivia plucked the card from his fingers—and snapped it clean in half before tossing the pieces aside like trash.

Everyone froze in shock.

Margaret's face twisted in fury. "Olivia, don't go too far."

"Sorry, I don't speak trash," Olivia said, flashing a mocking grin. "Mrs. Sherman, your acting needs work. One minute you're Mother Teresa, the next you're foaming at the mouth?"

6.Chapter 6 Scheme

"Keep your money for your husband, Mrs. Sherman," Olivia said, her voice icy. "He'll need it for those mistresses of his. I hear they don't come cheap."

"You—" Margaret choked on her rage. William's fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. If not for the crowd, he would've strangled her right there.

Everyone knew the truth. Margaret's family had propped William up when he was nothing, securing their marriage.

But once he had power, he'd never looked twice at his plain-faced wife, preferring younger, prettier company. The whole elite circle whispered about it, but no one had the guts to say it aloud.

Until Olivia. One sentence was all it took to shatter the Sherman family's carefully crafted illusion of a perfect family.

William's jaw locked. 'If I'd known she'd turn out like this,' he seethed, 'I should've let her rot in that damn lab.'

The mood was tense, and everyone's expressions were grim. Henry's frown deepened. He'd clearly just found out all this. He pulled his arm free from Cheryl's grasp.

Cheryl, who had only just returned, knew the truth behind everything. She couldn't let Olivia keep talking, or her carefully planned reveal would be ruined.

"Mom, Dad, there's no need to argue with Olivia," she said with a practiced smile, forcing a tone of kindness. "Let's go inside. We shouldn't keep the Shea family waiting."

Her gentle voice snapped William out of his anger. He quickly composed himself, smoothing over his expression.

To keep up appearances, William turned to Olivia with a stern look. "If you're struggling financially, just say so. I'm happy to help. But don't go spreading lies to tarnish our reputation."

He then took Margaret's arm, sighing like a disappointed father. "And you, you're too soft-hearted. This is what happens when kindness gets taken advantage of."

Margaret flushed with humiliation and shot Olivia a venomous glare. But with so many eyes on them, she forced a sad expression and nodded along.

Olivia tilted her head slightly, her piercing gaze fixed on them, cold and unsettling.

Margaret nearly lost her composure, ready to lash out, but Cheryl quickly pulled her aside. "Mom, she's not worth it," she whispered urgently. "Remember what's important today. Don't let something this small ruin everything."

That snapped Margaret back to reality. She dabbed at nonexistent tears and sighed dramatically. "It's heartbreaking. I only wanted to help, and this is the thanks I get? I should've known better."

Cheryl played along seamlessly. "Mom, you're right. Some people care more about their pride than honesty. If you offer cards, they'll refuse just to save face."

Olivia almost laughed. 'Are they seriously calling me a broke liar now?' She watched their little performance with cold amusement.

Noticing Olivia's silence, Cheryl stepped forward with a graceful bow. "Olivia, I'm sorry for my mother's behavior. But if you refuse our help, then stop causing trouble for us. My mom is kind-hearted. She's too trusting to see through your little games."

Her words were firm yet diplomatic, instantly swaying the crowd. The onlookers glanced between Cheryl, the picture of poise, and Olivia's indifferent stance. The contrast couldn't have been clearer.

Olivia caught the thick layer of hypocrisy in Cheryl's tone. She lifted her chin, lips curling into a knowing smirk, her sharp gaze cutting straight through the act.

For some reason, Cheryl felt a flicker of unease under that stare. She despised Olivia, yet that piercing look sent a chill down her spine.

She sneered inwardly, 'Olivia's acting bolder today, reckless and defiant. Since when? After living with my family for several years, does she really think she is some kind of noble lady now?'

"Cheryl's right," Henry cut in, stepping forward. "People struggling often confuse pride with dignity. They mistake generosity for pity. It's a common flaw."

His eyes landed on Olivia, brimming with disdain. "The Sherman family helped you. The least you could do is show some gratitude. Acting like this just makes you look petty."

Olivia listened, then suddenly asked, "You're Henry Evans, aren't you?"

"That's correct," Henry replied, tilting his chin up slightly, his frown deepening.

"Sharp eye," Cheryl added smoothly. "Mr. Evans is the director of Hillarica Medical Group, as well as one of the most renowned doctors in the field. What exactly do you want?"

"No big deal," Olivia said with an easy smile, nodding toward the street. "I read tarot, and your cards just came to me. Your family, the one who cuts corners and doesn't know what she's doing, almost got someone killed today.

"Right now, she's begging for mercy on the ground. Why don't you go see for yourself?"

Henry scoffed inwardly, 'My only medical family is Natalie, a top graduate from Kingtonelle Medical University. No way she's endangered a patient.'

"You fool," he spat. "How dare you spread such lies! The Evans family has practiced medicine for generations. We would never—"

Before he could finish, an elegantly dressed woman came rushing over in tears. "Henry, you need to check on Natalie immediately. She collapsed and couldn't move or speak. It's like she's possessed."

Henry's confident smile turned to stone.

A heavy silence fell over the crowd. His face burned with humiliation as he stormed off toward Natalie's location.

"Oh, and one more advice for you," Olivia called after him, waving casually. "Tonight, take the back roads home. Avoid the main streets."

No one had ever dared disrespect Henry like this. He turned back to glare at Olivia, his eyes promising this wasn't over.

But Olivia couldn't care less. 'The Evans family had this coming,' she thought. 'Corrupting medical standards and undermining the entire healthcare system. Someone should've put a stop to them years ago.

'That so-called "top doctor" is nothing but a fraud, selling medical licenses to unqualified hacks and churning out generations of arrogant, incompetent practitioners.

'If I don't step in, they'll keep using my reputation to drag the profession further into the gutter. Hillarica doesn't just need a new top doctor. It needs a reckoning.'

Margaret, trailing behind Henry, hid a smug smile. 'The Evans family dominates Hillarica's medical scene,' she sneered inwardly, 'By making an enemy of their patriarch, Olivia has just destroyed any future she might have had in the city.

'Time for this country bumpkin to crawl back to the sticks where she belongs.'

After they disappeared, Olivia turned to leave.

But William stepped in front of her, blocking her path. His face twisted with anger as he jabbed a finger at her. "We took care of you for years," he shouted. "And this is how you repay us? You ungrateful brat, I shouldn't have been so nice."

Olivia's gaze turned icy. The Sherman family had never shown her kindness. For years, they'd given her nothing but cold indifference, beatings, and curses. Living with them had been worse than the orphanage.

She had once hoped they could be family. But there was no love and only cruelty. And then William had sold her off, all for money.

At the memory, the purple rose tattoo behind her ear throbbed. If not for them, she would never have suffered so much. Her head snapped up, her eyes burning with fury.