Chapter 4
After hearing that, I didn’t hold back.
The first step was securing her peace. I used a carefully laid trap to get Lionel out of the country on business.
It was risky, but after years of working behind the scenes in the family company, I knew how to cover my tracks. Even if he got suspicious, he wouldn’t act against me easily.
With him out of the way, operation Rebuild Christie began.
I hired a top-tier martial arts master, sparing no expense.
Whenever I had free time, I trained with her.
And she didn’t disappoint me. Christie was a natural: resilient, fast, laser-focused.
The master even joked that if she’d started earlier, she could’ve swept national tournaments and brought home gold for the country.
I brought in private tutors, too.
While Betty paraded herself at charity balls and flirted her way through cocktail parties, Christie soaked up knowledge like a sponge. Languages, finance, etiquette, tech…she dove into it all.
And slowly, as the fake bathed in shallow applause, the real heiress began to rise.
Betty stayed busy collecting admirers.
One day, two heirs of powerful families brawled over her. Next, she was orchestrating a public showdown between a chart-topping idol and a Grammy-winning singer, both of whom were fighting for a dinner date with her. And she was proud of it.
Time passed. Lionel eventually returned.
For reasons I couldn’t comprehend, he suddenly decided to host a party for Christie.
The moment I heard, I took Christie to get dolled up.
She was nervous. Of course, she was. This was her very first banquet.
“Hey,” I said, gently squeezing her hand, “I’ll be right there the whole time.”
She smiled, flashing those tiny tiger teeth I’d missed so much. I’d managed to put some weight back on her; her skin looked healthier, and her eyes brighter.
Even without makeup, there was a quiet beauty forming in her face, one that outshone the fake by miles.
Now, with grace, knowledge, and steel beneath her softness, Christie didn’t just look like an heiress. She was one.
“I’m not scared anymore,” she said, squeezing back.
We entered the party together.
Of course, Betty came rushing over with her usual entourage.
“Tania! Christie!” she chirped, overly sweet.
I didn’t even hesitate and shoved her back. “Not interested. Back off.”
Betty stumbled, clearly not expecting that. Her eyes welled with tears on command.
“Tania, weren’t you always so kind to Betty?” one of her lapdogs piped up. “If your brother sees you make Betty cry, he won’t be happy.”
I narrowed my eyes.
Before I could speak, Christie stepped forward. “She’s crying, and no one even touched her. Can we please stop pretending she’s anything but a walking green flag parade?”
Her voice trembled, but her words landed.
One of the girls sneered, “Look who thinks she’s a real debutante now.”
Another leaned in and sniffed dramatically. “You guys smell that? Smells like… bumpkin.”
“Hahaha…”
Laughter exploded around them like fireworks.
They sounded like chickens squawking in a gold-plated coop, and they thought they were royalty.