Early spring, when everything begins to wake.

At S City airport, the place was bustling with travelers coming and going.

A girl strolled out slowly, seemingly in no rush. The cold wind blew harshly as people around her tightened their heavy coats. Yet, she stood out in her thin black hoodie, looking completely out of place.

Her hands were stuffed deep in her pockets, and the hood pulled low, hiding her delicate features. But even the hood couldn’t cover up the inherent rebellious streak that she carried naturally.

More and more people began stealing glances at her as she passed.

Vivian Harper adjusted her hood slightly lower, her gaze fixing on a black sedan parked by the curb.

She knew that license plate like the back of her hand.

Without hurrying, she walked over, opened the door, and got in the car.

“Miss, where are we heading first?” Simon Marshall, the driver, asked respectfully while glancing at her through the rearview mirror.

“Home,” she replied simply.

Simon nodded, started the car, and smoothly pulled away from the airport.

With Mrs. Harper gravely ill and taken to the hospital, most of the family had grown preoccupied there, leaving the Harper residence unusually quiet.

When Vivian stepped into the living room, the few housekeepers who were around froze in their tracks, their gazes filled with confusion as they looked her way.

“And you are…?”

Vivian had spent most of her years abroad. Even when she occasionally visited S City, she seldom stopped by the family estate. The constant turnover of house help meant it wasn’t surprising no one recognized her. She tossed her backpack onto the couch, a woman's surprised voice echoing in her ears, tinged with a hint of hesitation.

"Vivian?"

Vivian Harper turned her head towards the staircase and saw an unfamiliar face.

The woman wore a pearl-white suit, her wavy hair draped over her shoulders. Her well-maintained beauty carried a touch of flirtatious charm, effortlessly captivating.

But what really caught Vivian’s attention was the necklace around the woman’s neck. The blood-red gemstone sparkled under the light, dazzling and extravagant.

Vivian’s expression turned cold. "Who gave you that necklace?"

Clara Hayes’s eyes flickered slightly. Pretending not to hear, she stepped closer and said, "Vivian, hello. I’m Clara Hayes, your father’s fiancée."

Fiancée?

Vivian let out a faint scoff. "And?"

"Why should I care?"

Clara had already heard from the Harpers that Vivian had a bit of a temper. Still, she figured she was just a young girl—nothing to be afraid of. Yet their first meeting was far from friendly, throwing Clara completely off guard.

The smile on Clara’s face froze for a moment. "Vivian, I get that it’s hard for you to accept me right away. But sooner or later, we’re going to be family, so you—"

"Family? With you?" Vivian cut her off impatiently. "Give me the necklace. Now."

Clara’s hand instinctively moved to cover the necklace. "This was a gift from Mrs. Harper."Vivian Harper shot Clara Hayes a cold glance. "My mother’s belongings are off-limits to everyone. I don’t care who tries to justify it—if I don’t agree, it doesn’t count.”

Seeing Vivian’s firm stance, Clara clutched the necklace tightly and tried to make a quick getaway.

A mocking smile tugged at Vivian’s lips as her gaze swept to the antique sword displayed on a cabinet.

She moved.

The servants barely registered a blur before Vivian had the priceless sword in her grip, swinging it towards Clara.

A collective gasp filled the room.

Clara froze mid-step, feeling the rush of icy air as the blade stopped perilously close to her. The gleaming sword now hovered in front of her chest, reflecting a chilling, silver flash.

Her whole body stiffened as she stared at Vivian in terror. “V-Vivian, what are you doing?”

Vivian’s voice was cold and steady. "Your choice—necklace or your life.”

Clara gritted her teeth, forcing herself to muster some courage. "You can’t just kill me—the law exists, you know. Besides, the necklace was gifted to me by Mrs. Harper, and your father didn’t object.”

At those words, the room seemed to plunge into an icy silence.

Without another word, Vivian’s sword flicked lazily in the air.

Two quick swipes. A few of Clara’s curls drifted to the floor.

The living room fell dead silent.

The servants stood rooted in place, their eyes wide in disbelief as they stared at Vivian.Clara Hayes froze in place, staring at the strands of hair on the floor, unable to process what had just happened.

“My hair! Oh my God, my hair!”

Her hysterical scream echoed through the living room, sharp and grating.

She thought Vivian Harper was a troublemaker? No, this woman was outright insane.

Vivian’s voice was cold and clipped. “Shut up.”

Clara, trembling with rage, shouted back, “Vivian, I’m your dad’s fiancée! How dare you treat me like this?”

Vivian didn’t respond, just tightened her grip on the sword hilt and stepped closer. Her frosty stare was enough to send shivers down Clara’s spine.

Clara panicked, eyes darting to the servants as she barked, “What are you waiting for? Get over here and stop her!”

The staff exchanged uneasy glances, sneaking peeks at the blade in Vivian’s hand. They weren’t about to risk their lives for this.

Seeing their hesitation, Clara’s anger nearly sent her over the edge.

Her back hit the cold, hard wall—she had nowhere left to run.

“What’s going on here?”

The stern, commanding voice rang out suddenly.

Vivian turned towards the door as Edward Harper and Nathan Harper walked into the room, one after the other.

To Clara, it was as if her saviors had arrived. She burst into tears and ran to Nathan, sobbing theatrically.

“Nathan, thank goodness you’re back!” Her fake pitiful tone was so over-the-top it made people’s skin crawl. Nathan Harper frowned slightly. "What’s going on here?"

Clara Hayes clung to his arm, quickly stepping closer to him. "Vivian... she tried to kill me!"

As if that wasn’t enough, she pointed dramatically at the strands of hair on the floor and whined, "Look! She even chopped off my hair! If I hadn’t dodged in time, that sword would’ve been at my throat."

Hearing this, both Nathan Harper and Edward Harper froze for a second.

Nathan’s gaze swept over the hair on the floor, then landed on the sword in Vivian’s hand. He softened his voice, clearly trying to de-escalate. "Vivian, put the sword down. Don’t hurt anyone—she’s family."

"Family?" Vivian’s eyes flicked toward Clara, a mocking smirk playing at her lips. "You mean her?"

It had been ages since the father and daughter saw each other, and for once, Vivian had returned. Nathan didn’t want things to spiral out of control.

He cleared his throat awkwardly. "Vivian, this is Clara. She’ll be your... stepmother soon. We’re getting married in a bit."

Clara straightened up proudly, but before she could bask in any smug satisfaction, Vivian’s voice cut through with a sarcastic drawl. "Getting old really must mess with your taste, huh?"

"..."

The room fell into an awkward silence.

Clara’s smile froze on her face, a subtle flash of anger in her eyes. Yet with Edward Harper present, she dared not say a word. Nathan Harper didn’t seem upset at all. “Alright, that’s enough. You’ve been on a long flight; you must be tired. Go upstairs and rest for a bit.”

Vivian Harper ignored him. Her red lips parted, her tone icy, "The necklace."

Nathan followed her gaze to Clara Hayes’s neck, and instantly understood.

"Nathan, this was given to me by Mrs. Harper," Clara said softly.

To her surprise, Nathan didn’t side with her. “If Vivian wants it, just give it to her.”

Clara’s chest tightened at his words, but she forced a smile to maintain her gentle and gracious image. “Alright.”

Reluctantly, she removed the necklace and handed it over.

Vivian took the necklace without hesitation, stuffing it directly into her pocket.

Edward Harper’s voice carried a firm tone. “Go put my sword back where it belongs.”

“Got it,” Vivian replied casually, walking over to the cabinet. She swiftly slid the sword back into its sheath.

Her hand returned to her pocket as her gaze froze for a second, then suddenly darted toward the floor-to-ceiling window.