?Chapter 707:


    rissa barely had time to register the shift before she blurted, “No, that’s all—” The line went dead.


    She stared at the phone, the sharp beep of disconnection drilling into her ears. Her fingers curled around the device, knuckles whitening.


    From the moment she had stepped into the Hond family home and firstid eyes on Corrine, she had known—this was never meant to be a bond of sisterhood. They were rivals, destined from the start.


    And when Corrine had been cast out of the family, stripped of her ce and title, rissa had felt nothing but relief.


    With Corrine gone, she alone could im the position of the Hond family’s legitimate heiress. No longer a shadowed, unwanted secret. No longer forced to care what others whispered behind her back. But now, with Dewey pushing for Corrine’s return, she couldn’t shake off the rm bells ringing in her mind. She knew her father well from a young age.


    Dewey Hond was a man who measured worth in power, not sentiment. Family meant nothing if it wasn’t useful. And defying him? That was a game with no rewards.


    And so, rissa had no choice but to obey.


    Taking a steadying breath, she schooled her expression and stepped into the living room.


    “Dad, Corrine hung up. She said… she said…”


    “What did she say?” Dewey, reclining in his chair, flicked the ash from his cigarette into the ashtray without sparing her a nce.


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    rissa swallowed and then pressed her lips together.


    “She said she doesn’t know us well.”


    The words settled like dust in the cavernous silence of the room.


    The air thickened, pressing down on her lungs.


    Then—Dewey chuckled. A low, humorless sound.


    “Still as stubborn as ever.”


    His deep voice carried an unsettling chill, sharp as a de’s edge, sending an icy shiver creeping down rissa’s spine.


    She watched his expression, searching for cracks in that unreadable mask. Carefully, she ventured, “Corrine hasn’t forgotten what happened. She probably won’t forgive us. She won’te back to this family.”


    Back then, Corrine had shoved Nic down the stairs, a single act that had cost Dewey the son he had longed for. In his rage, he had very nearly ended Corrine himself.


    But logic had stilled his hand.


    Instead, he had settled for something just as cruel. He had dragged her out into the freezing night, stripped down to nothing but a thin nightgown, and cast her out of the Hond estate like discarded trash. The snow had been relentless that night, the cold biting and merciless. If she had died, so be it. It would have been fate’s hand delivering justice, and his son’s spirit would have its retribution.


    If she had survived… it would only mean fate wasn’t finished with her yet.


    What he hadn’t expected was the Ford family appearing out of nowhere, whisking Corrine away without so much as a word.


    Dewey had chosen the simplest way out—dering that if Corrine left, then she would no longer have anything to do with the Hond family and would cease to exist as his daughter.


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