The day Isolde Briar was released from prison, it was raining. The chilly wind sliced through the rain as a swarm of reporters surged forward at the prison gates. “Ms. Briar, your client lost the lawsuit in the Crescent Ridge rape case. She jumped to her death six months ago. Her mother is demanding justice. What’s your response?” “Ms. Briar, your license was revoked, and your mentor was forced to retire. Do you have anything to say about that?” Despite the barrage of questions, Isolde didn’t stop. She kept her head down and pushed through the crowd, forcing her way forward. By the side of the road, a black G-Class SUV was parked. Lucian Voss stood beside it, casually smoking a cigarette. Lyra Briar tugged at his sleeve and nodded toward the prison gates. Without a word, the two of them walked over to Isolde. Lyra pointed at the scar on Isolde’s forehead with a look of shock, her voice dripping with disgust. “Isolde, what happened to your forehead? It’s so ugly. It looks like you’ve been disfigured!” Isolde glanced down at her forehead, trying to adjust her bangs to cover the scar, but it was too big to hide. The scar had been a result of the abuse she suffered in prison. Lucian didn’t speak, his eyes cold and distant as he looked at her. Lyra, on the other hand, smiled and handed over a small box. “Isolde, this is from me and Lucian. A new pair of shoes. You should really start over and make better choices from now on.” Isolde couldn’t help but feel the sting of sarcasm. She knew better than anyone why she ended up in prison a year ago. Lyra and Lucian were more than aware of the truth. Isolde had been an undefeated lawyer for five years, respected in her field and well-known as one of the top attorneys in the industry. Lyra, however, was Isolde’s half-sister, a woman who had only been brought into the family two years ago. She was also a lawyer, but after three years of practice, she had never won a case and was considered one of the least skilled lawyers around. But everything changed a year ago because of the Crescent Ridge case. In the case, Isolde had represented a young girl who accused the wealthy Renan Crowe of rape, while Lyra was his defense lawyer. Despite having solid evidence and a strong case, everything fell apart. The night before the trial, all the crucial evidence on Isolde’s computer was mysteriously deleted, leading to a disastrous defeat. The case had far-reaching consequences. The victim was smeared by the media and painted as a prostitute. Shortly after, Isolde was accused of falsifying evidence, and her law license was revoked. She was sentenced to a year in prison. Meanwhile, Lyra’s career skyrocketed. She had won the case for Renan, and her fame soared. Isolde had struggled to understand why everything had unfolded the way it did until she saw a private group chat on Lucian’s phone. It was a conversation between him, Lyra, and their father, Edward Briar. [Isolde has everything now, including fame and status, but she showed no mercy to me in court. I think she just wanted to see me fail.] [Isolde did go too far. Lyra, I’m with you on this.] [Lucian, what do you think?] [Lyra, tell me what evidence or documents you don’t want to see.] ***** As the car headed towards Briar Villa, Isolde stared out the window, watching the scenery pass by. A year might not seem like a long time, but everything had changed in that single year. The villa had been completely remodeled. Isolde’s eyes immediately landed on the empty space where her mother’s peach tree used to stand at the gate. She ran up to the servant who was standing nearby. “Where’s the peach tree my mom planted?” The servant looked at her coldly. “Ms. Lyra Briar likes roses, so Mr. Briar had the peach tree cut down and replaced it with roses.” Isolde felt as though someone had punched her in the chest. That peach tree had been over twenty years old. It had been planted by her mother, and it was the only thing left for her to hold onto. And now, it was gone just because Lyra liked roses. Isolde turned and walked away, intending to confront her father. But before she could reach the door, a woman burst out from the house and grabbed her arm. A sharp slap landed across her face. The woman clung to her, tears streaming down her face as she screamed, “Look, everyone! This heartless lawyer is the one who killed my daughter!”
The woman who slapped her was the mother of the rape case’s victim. Surrounding her was a swarm of reporters, and the blinding flashes of their cameras made Isolde feel dizzy. The woman shoved her again, her voice raw with anger. “I told my daughter not to press charges. We never stood a chance against the rich! But this woman? She promised us she could win! “Look at what happened! My daughter’s been smeared as a prostitute, jumped to her death, and now, she’s out of prison like nothing happened! “Why is she still alive? She’s the one who should be dead! I want her to pay for my daughter’s life!” Isolde stumbled back, nearly crashing to the ground. But before she could fall, Lyra grabbed her, forcing her face to the cameras. She positioned her so the nasty scar on her forehead was front and center for everyone to see. “Okay, fine. The rape case was my sister’s fault, but she’s already paid the price. You see her scar? That’s her price. “The victim was just a waitress. My sister? She’s a rich, spoiled lady. How could anyone compare the girl’s life to hers?” ***** Later that night, Isolde found herself on the evening news. The camera caught Lyra pretending to protect her, saying exactly what the audience expected to hear. And of course, the viewers assumed it was Isolde’s own words. When the segment aired, the internet exploded with hatred. [This lawyer’s a disgrace. No wonder she spent a year in prison. She should’ve gotten life!] [I’m glad her cellmates made her pay. She deserves to be disfigured.] [Anyone got her address? I’d like to send her a “gift” to show how I feel.] The hate wasn’t just online. It was a real threat to her safety. Isolde stared at the comments, her heart heavy. But she knew she had to explain herself. So, she recorded a video, ready to clear the air when Lucian stormed in. He yanked the phone out of her hands. His voice was sharp with anger. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” “I’m trying to clear things up.” “Clear things up? You have no idea how much this will hurt Lyra!” Isolde looked at him, her husband of five years, and the truth hit her like a slap. The man who had sworn to protect her was now asking her to take the fall for someone else. “What about me? What about the damage I’ve been through? Lucian, whose husband are you?” “I’m your husband, but Lyra is your sister. I’m standing on the side of justice,” he replied, his words cold and rehearsed. He added, “She’s been nothing but supportive of you, and now you’re going to turn on her?” Isolde’s laugh was bitter. “Turn on her? Who made me the villain in everyone’s eyes? Does Lyra really care about me? Lucian, are you blind or just plain stupid?” “Isolde, you’re being unreasonable.” “I’m being unreasonable? You’re the one who’s unreasonable! Give me my phone!” She lunged at him, but he held the phone above his head, easily out of reach. Then, without hesitation, he deleted the video. Isolde froze. “Lucian, how dare you delete my video?” He looked at her with a cold, emotionless gaze. “Isolde, it’s over. You can’t go back now. “With Lyra now a top lawyer, there’s no need for you to work anymore. You can just stay home.” The words hit her like a punch to the gut. She stared at him, the man she’d once loved, feeling everything inside her crumble. She didn’t want to cry for him. He wasn’t worth her tears, but they fell anyway, uncontrollably. “Lucian, I graduated top of my class from Kingsford University’s law school. I’ve been practicing for five years without losing a single case. Every senior in the field said I had talent… “And now, you want me to just be a housewife? So I can make room for Lyra?”
Maybe even Lucian had forgotten, but Isolde remembered it like it was yesterday. Back then, she was the shining star of Kingsford University’s law department, and Lucian was just a penniless guy from economics. He couldn’t even afford his tuition, and her mother had to help him out. At that time, there were plenty of boys flocking around Isolde. Some wrote songs for her and some sent her flowers. But none of them were like Lucian. Every day, without fail, he’d wait outside the girls’ dorm. In summer, he’d bring her cold drinks. In winter, it was hot coffee, just so he could ride his bike and take her to the library. Isolde never gave him the time of day. The girls in her dorm would even tease him. “Look at that! A toad thinking it can eat a swan! Fairy tales aren’t just stories after all!” That day, everyone burst into laughter, except Isolde. She stopped in her tracks, walked up to Lucian, and said, “I’ve never ridden a bike before. Will you teach me?” Soon, news of Isolde and Lucian’s relationship spread throughout the university. Many of the boys were heartbroken. There was even a thread on the school forum, speculating on how long the couple would last. After all, the gap between them was just too huge. Lucian was average in every way, while Isolde excelled in looks, academics, and family background. What no one saw coming, though, was that they got married right after graduation. When he proposed, Isolde looked into his eyes and said, “Lucian, you’ve been so good to me, too good. I almost feel guilty. “I keep thinking that if I don’t say yes, I’ll be letting you down. Will you love me this way forever?” Without a second thought, Lucian gave his answer. He pulled her into a tight embrace as if he wanted to show her his very soul. “Isolde, you gave me a new life. You made me feel alive again. I’ll only ever treat you this well for the rest of my life.” Now, it felt almost laughable. It had only been five years since they got married, but now, it seemed like it belonged to another lifetime. It turned out that Lucian’s promises were made to be broken. In their third year of marriage, Lyra was brought back to live with them. From that day on, Isolde began to feel like she was losing both her father and her husband. Edward, who usually said nothing, would spend hours comforting Lyra after she lost a lawsuit. Meanwhile, Lucian, who didn’t even know what her favorite hobbies were, would stay up late, just to watch soap operas with Lyra. The Crescent Ridge case from a year ago was the final turning point in their lives. ***** Isolde tossed and turned all night, and by the time she woke up, it was already past noon. As she made her way downstairs, the sound of laughter reached her ears from the living room. It was Lyra, Edward, and Lucian, all chatting merrily. Lyra must’ve said something funny because Edward’s face was full of wrinkles from smiling. Lucian, too, wore a gentle smile, affectionately ruffling Lyra’s nose. But the moment Isolde entered the room, the lively chatter instantly stopped. It felt as if she had unwittingly stepped into someone else’s space. But this was her home, and the villa was her inheritance from her mother. Lyra, leaning into Lucian’s arm, grinned. “You really slept in, Isolde. We’ve already had lunch.” Edward, not missing a beat, said casually, “Tell the kitchen to make her something.” Lyra made a face. “The cook said she has personal business and took the afternoon off.” Without lifting his eyes, Edward shrugged. “Then order takeout.” His gaze softened as he looked at Lyra, every line of his face filled with tenderness. “Lyra, you keep sneaking fast food without telling me. Don’t think I don’t know. It’s bad for your health, so no more takeout, okay?” Lyra stuck out her tongue playfully. Isolde, her face impassive, glanced away and turned toward the door without saying a word. Suddenly, Lucian stood up. “I’ll cook.” “Lucian!” Lyra was clearly not happy, but Lucian had already walked toward the kitchen, unfazed. She rolled her eyes at Isolde, flashing her a sharp look. At that moment, the maid entered, holding a package. “Ms. Isolde Briar, you have a delivery.” Isolde paused. “For me?” The maid placed the package on the table. “Yes, it’s addressed to you.” Isolde felt a flicker of confusion. She had just returned home and hadn’t ordered anything. Lyra’s eyes gleamed with mischief as she quickly grabbed the package. “Let’s see what you’ve been shopping for.” As she tore into the box, she couldn’t help but tease, “Isolde, you’ve only just come back and already you’re online shopping? Looks like you’re in a good mood.” Before she could finish her sentence, her shrill scream broke through the air. Lyra flung the box far away. A bloody, mangled mess rolled out, leaving a gruesome streak across the carpet. The maid stumbled back, her legs shaking. “A dead rat? How could it be a dead rat?” At that moment, Lucian walked out with a plate of food in hand. The scene froze him in place for a second before he dropped the plate and rushed over to Lyra. “Lyra, are you okay?” He crouched down in front of her, carefully holding her hands as if she were made of porcelain. His gaze was filled with nothing but concern. Lyra flashed a delicate smile, her voice soft and sweet. “I’m fine.” But as her eyes flicked toward Isolde, her expression shifted, and her lips quivered in mock grievance. “Isolde put a dead rat in that box on purpose to scare me! I was terrified!” Lucian’s face darkened as he turned to Isolde. “What’s wrong with you? Did prison mess with your head or something?” Edward chimed in, his tone sharp, “How could you be so cruel? Apologize to Lyra right now!” Isolde lifted her head slowly, her voice eerily calm. “And what makes you so sure it was me?” Lyra’s tone shot up immediately. “If not you, then who? Your name’s on the box!” Isolde didn’t flinch. Instead, she raised an eyebrow and countered coolly, “Haven’t you ever received a package someone bought for you? Does having my name on it automatically mean I bought it for myself?” That left Lyra momentarily speechless. But she quickly sneered, her voice dripping with disdain, “Oh, come on. You think someone sent it to you? Who would bother sending anything to an ex-con like you?” Isolde chuckled coldly, “Maybe you should ask yourself that. If it weren’t for the things you said about me, do you think anyone would’ve sent me a dead rat?” Lyra’s face turned bright red. “Just because you say someone else sent it doesn’t make it true! For all I know, you did it yourself. Can you prove otherwise?” “And why should I have to prove anything?” Isolde’s posture straightened as her gaze locked onto Lyra’s. “You’re the one making accusations, so the burden of proof is on you. “Or did law school forget to teach you that?” She stood there, bathed in the morning sunlight, her figure radiating an air of quiet authority. Lucian stared at her, his mind flashing back to the formidable lawyer she once was, sharp, logical, and always in control. When she spoke, her words hit like a sledgehammer, leaving her opponents completely defenseless. But before he could dwell on the memory, Edward slammed his newspaper onto the table with a loud thud. “This is a family home, not a courtroom! Your law license is gone, so stop pretending to be some hotshot attorney.” Isolde’s straight back seemed to slump a little at those words. She glanced at her father, the man who had never once been fair to her, and felt a dull ache settle in her chest. He wasn’t wrong. She wasn’t a lawyer anymore. And she had them to thank for that. The maid hesitated, her voice trembling as she pointed to the box. “There’s a note inside. It looks like there’s writing on it.” Lucian strode over, grabbed the note, and scanned it. His expression tightened. Lyra couldn’t wait. “What does it say, Lucian? Read it out loud!” He pressed his lips. “Isolde, you’re nothing but a rat now. And you’ll end up just like this one.” The room fell silent as he placed the note down. His gaze shifted to Isolde, who stood motionless nearby. Her face was ghostly pale, and her figure looked so frail that it seemed she might disappear into the light streaming through the window. A strange unease flickered in Lucian’s chest. Edward’s snort broke the silence. “I told you not to become a lawyer. Look where it got you. You’ve only got yourself to blame.” Lyra immediately jumped in. “Exactly! You’ve brought this on yourself, and now everyone’s scared because of you!” Without saying a word, Isolde turned and walked upstairs. Her shoulders sagged, and her once-proud figure looked small and defeated. Lucian found himself stepping forward before he could think twice. “I’m going to check on her.” Lyra pouted, her voice rising in protest, “Lucian! I was the one who got scared.” But Lucian didn’t stop. He disappeared around the corner without even looking back. Lyra clenched her fists, grabbed a throw pillow, and hurled it to the floor with a frustrated growl. Isolde sat quietly in the room, unmoving. The door creaked open behind her, and Lucian stepped in. “About earlier, we were wrong to blame you.” She didn’t react. It was hard to tell if she hadn’t heard him or just didn’t care. She didn’t want to care about the three of them. Their misunderstandings and apologies meant nothing to her. A hollow sensation crept into Lucian’s chest. “Isolde…” But she remained turned away from him. “Lucian, where’s my mattress?” He froze, momentarily caught off guard. Isolde’s mattress had been a custom order, an expensive one. As a lawyer, long hours of sitting and poring over case files had taken a toll on her back. Her lower back pain was so severe that some nights it even woke her from sleep. On her doctor’s advice, she had invested in a specialized orthopedic mattress. Lucian didn’t answer, and Isolde wasn’t surprised. “Lyra took it, didn’t she?” Her voice was flat, devoid of emotion, like the surface of a dried-up lake. Lucian’s chest tightened. “Isolde…” She’d already figured it out the night she came home from prison. Lying on her bed, something had felt off. Casually, she’d asked him, “Why does the mattress feel different?” He hadn’t answered, and she hadn’t pressed. The next day, walking past Lyra’s room, she overheard voices. “Lyra, give the mattress back to Isolde. She noticed.” “So what? She just spent a year in prison sleeping on wooden boards. Does she really deserve something that nice now?” There had been silence after that. Isolde hadn’t needed to hear more to know he’d agreed. Because she’d been to prison, she didn’t even deserve her own mattress anymore. She’d always known her time in prison would be a permanent stain on her life. What she hadn’t expected was that it would become a knife in the hands of the people closest to her, one they would use to stab her, again and again, until her heart bled dry. ***** Half a month after Isolde’s release, it was Lyra’s birthday. The house was bustling from the early hours of the morning, servants rushing about to prepare for the grand celebration that evening. Isolde glanced at the commotion from her window before turning away, a bitter smile tugging at her lips. Three days after her release had been her birthday. In prison, she’d imagined how this year might be different and how she’d finally celebrate at home, surrounded by her family. But when the day came, no one had remembered. She’d bought herself a small, single-serving cake and sat alone in the dark, softly singing “Happy Birthday” to herself. The flickering candlelight cast shadows on her face as she forced a smile. When she blew out the candle, tears streamed down her cheeks. Tonight, though, Lyra’s birthday was a completely different story. Guests had started arriving long before the official start of the banquet. Dressed in a pink gown and a glittering diamond tiara, Lyra was the star of the show, surrounded by compliments and admiration. Everyone wanted to toast her success as a rising star in the legal world. Meanwhile, Isolde stood in a forgotten corner, invisible to the crowd. Halfway through the evening, a young woman approached her, smiling curiously. “I just met Lyra recently. Are you a friend of hers? What’s your name?” “I’m Isolde.” The woman’s smile vanished instantly. She rolled her eyes and walked away. “Why didn’t you just say so earlier?” All around, she could feel the weight of people’s stares, sharp and judgmental, like arrows piercing her skin. Suddenly, a man stepped forward. Without a word, he grabbed a glass of red wine from a server’s tray and poured it over her head. A gasp rippled through the crowd, quickly followed by whispers and muffled laughter. The man hurled the wine glass to the floor, the sharp crash silencing everyone nearby. “Isolde, because of you, we’re all getting dragged through the mud. “You’re a disgrace to lawyers everywhere!” The commotion caught Lucian and Lyra’s attention. They hurried over, only to freeze at the scene in front of them. In the chaos, a hand shot out from the crowd and shoved Isolde hard from behind. She stumbled and fell to the floor. Lifting her head, she was met with mocking stares. Her eyes betrayed a fleeting confusion as if struggling to process what had just happened. Lyra’s voice chimed in, laced with faux concern, “Oh no, Isolde! Did you spill wine on yourself? And you fell too? “Honestly, you’re always so clumsy. No wonder you made such a mess of the Crescent Ridge case.” Lucian coughed awkwardly, trying to diffuse the situation. “Lyra, we’re in public. Maybe show your sister some respect.” Lyra pouted, her tone exaggeratedly innocent, “What? I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m just being honest!” Lucian softened, his eyes filled with indulgence. “That’s what I like about you. So straightforward.” Watching the two of them, Isolde felt nothing, just an overwhelming numbness, like waves pulling her under. And then, out of nowhere, a hand appeared in front of her. A deep, steady voice spoke above her, “Take my hand. I’ll help you up.” Startled, Isolde looked up. Through the haze of tears and spilled wine, she saw a face that was strikingly handsome with sharp features, cool and composed. The name Elliot Steele surfaced in her mind. He wasn’t just any man. Elliot had been a legend at Kingsford University’s law school, a senior who had completed the four-year program in just two. Everyone thought he was destined to be an extraordinary lawyer, but he surprised everyone by switching to business. After graduating, he took over Steele Group and turned it into an unstoppable force. In just a few short years, Elliot had propelled Steele Group to new heights, earning him the title of Fortune magazine’s “Next-Generation Business Leader”. The crowd buzzed with murmurs. “Elliot… It really is him.” “I’ve heard he rarely shows up at events. Why is he here for Lyra’s birthday?” Isolde felt a rush of embarrassment when she heard those words. Elliot crouched down, his hand steady as he helped her to her feet. From the pocket of his perfectly tailored suit, he pulled out a handkerchief. With an almost imperceptible hesitation, he reached up to wipe the wine from her hair. “I can do it myself,” Isolde said, turning her head away. His hand froze for a moment before he withdrew it gracefully. “Alright.” Lyra practically bounced over, her face flushed with excitement. “Mr. Steele! I can’t believe you’re here. This is such an honor!” She still couldn’t figure out why Elliot had come tonight. Her firm had partnered with Steele Group on a case recently, and she’d dressed to the nines for every meeting, hoping to catch his attention. But she never even caught a glimpse of him. There were rumors that Elliot was distant and unapproachable, and Lyra had always believed them. So, having him show up at her birthday party tonight was beyond her wildest dreams. But Elliot barely spared her a glance. His sharp gaze shifted to Lucian instead. Feeling the weight of that icy stare, Lucian tensed up. “M-Mr. Steele…” Elliot didn’t respond, his silence cutting deeper than words. Just then, his assistant approached, holding a phone. “Mr. Steele, there’s an urgent call for you.” Elliot glanced at Isolde one last time before turning and walking away. The crowd, having had their fill of drama, began to disperse. Lucian stepped closer to Isolde, his voice soft with concern. “Isolde, are you okay?” Isolde didn’t respond. She turned and walked away without a word. Lucian hesitated, ready to follow, but Lyra grabbed his arm. “Where are you going? Everyone’s waiting for us to start the first dance!” He paused, glancing between Isolde and Lyra. After a brief moment, he sighed, “Alright. Let’s go.” Lyra beamed, triumphant. After showering, Isolde stayed in her room and didn’t go downstairs. The noise from the party below gradually faded, signaling that the banquet had ended. As she was about to sleep, her phone buzzed with a message from Lyra. [Isolde, come to my room. I’ve got a gift for you.] Isolde left her room, and as she reached Lyra’s door, she could hear hushed voices from inside. “Lyra, don’t do this. Isolde is right next door.” “Isolde’s asleep. What are you worried about? You haven’t touched me since she came back. Lucian, I miss you.” “Lyra, what if Isolde hears?” “Are you really that scared of her?” It sounded like Lyra was crying, her voice thick with emotion. “Lucian, tell me the truth. Since Isolde came back, have you slept with her? You promised you’d only have sex with me…” “I didn’t sleep with her.” Lucian’s voice was full of helplessness and concern. “Lyra, please stop crying.” “You know about the scar on Isolde’s forehead. Do you really think I’d feel anything for her like that?” Lyra’s sobs turned into a laugh. “I knew you were always the best to me. You treat me so well. I have to show my appreciation. “Stay still. Let me kneel and take care of you.” “Lyra, you’d really do that? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to…” “You’re a man, Lucian. Men have needs. I’m happy to do this for you.” The sound of their conversation grew more intimate. “Lucian, who’s prettier, me or my sister?” “You.” “Is it more comfortable with me or with her?” “With you.” “Then who do you like more?” “Of course, it’s you, Lyra. Come on, a little faster…” Isolde felt her body go numb, her blood freezing. Her mind felt like it had shut down. She stumbled back to her room and sat by the window, staring blankly into the pitch-black night for what felt like forever. She’d thought, no matter how much of a jerk Lucian was, at least he’d have some lines he wouldn’t cross. But it turned out she had overestimated him. In the early hours of the morning, just as Isolde was about to fall asleep, her phone buzzed again, waking her up. [Isolde, you heard everything, didn’t you? Both your mattress and your husband have been in my bed.] [Let me be honest with you. During the year you were in prison, Lucian and I were together almost every night.] [My dear sister, looks like you couldn’t satisfy your husband. Otherwise, why was he so desperate in my bed?] [Now I’ve taken everything, your career, your father, your man. It’s all mine now, Isolde. I’m going to show everyone that I’m better than you. The only thing I’m missing is a rich mom. You’ve never been better than me!] Isolde’s hand shook uncontrollably, nearly throwing her phone in anger. After a long pause, she managed to steady her breath. Her mind cleared, bit by bit. Lyra wasn’t entirely wrong. Isolde did have a wealthy mother. But what Lyra didn’t realize was that her privileged life wasn’t thanks to her lazy father. It was because of the inheritance Isolde’s mother had left behind. Isolde’s mother had been incredibly thoughtful. She knew that her daughter might face struggles later in life, so she included a special clause in her will. Now, that clause had been triggered. Isolde opened her contacts and dialed the number of the lawyer, Richard Monroe. The phone rang only twice before it was picked up, and Richard greeted her respectfully. “Ms. Briar, how can I help you?” “Mr. Monroe, it’s time to activate the additional clause in my mother’s will.” “Are you sure, Ms. Briar?” “I’m sure,” Isolde replied, then hung up the phone.
🌟 Continue the story here 👉🏻 📲 Download the “MyFiction” app 🔍 search for “397637”, and watch the full series ✨! #MyFiction #B×G
Leave a Reply