Her Revenge Wears Many Faces Free Preview

Creak—clang!

A string of dull, grating sounds tore through the silence as the iron gates, towering nearly a hundred feet high, slowly parted to either side.

A woman in a tattered blue-and-white striped uniform, hair wild and tangled, walked out from the entrance at a sluggish pace.

Adrian Rivers heard the noise and finally let the tension ease from his brow. He stubbed out his cigarette, turned his head, and when he saw the person in front of him, his brows furrowed again. He called out with a hint of uncertainty, "Sloane?"

Sloane Rivers brushed the hair away from her face, revealing pale features that, despite everything, couldn't hide their natural beauty. But her eyes—once bright and full of life—had gone cold, dulled by years of indifference.

Her gaze lingered on Adrian for only a second before shifting away, as if he were nothing more than a stranger, irrelevant to her world.

"What's wrong? After all these years, Adrian, you don't recognize me anymore?" Sloane's voice rose softly, tinged with mockery. "You were the one who sent me here, remember?"

Adrian froze for a moment. He didn't seem used to this version of her. In his memories, she'd been rebellious, yes—but also full of fire and passion. The woman standing before him now felt like a porcupine, bristling with spikes, ready to lash out at any moment.

"Get in the car. Don't embarrass yourself here," Adrian snapped back quickly, still using that impatient tone, like he was trying to cover up a flicker of unease inside.

Sloane ignored his sharp words, opened the door, and climbed in.

At the same time, back inside the asylum, a scene unfolded that defied all logic. The so-called "bosses"—women who once ruled the halls with cruelty and violence, feared by everyone around them—were now clutching their heads and sobbing like children.

"The devil has finally gone! Thank goodness, it's finally over!" They cried again and again.

The car bumped along the rugged road. Inside, the air was suffocating with tension.

Adrian let out a cold snort and was the first to speak. "After all these years, I hope you've learned your lesson. When we get back, you'd better behave—keep your head down, stop pissing off Mom and Dad, and don't you dare reach for anything that doesn't belong to you."

Sloane's lips curled ever so slightly, the smile bitter and mocking.

Things that don't belong to me? So this is all about protecting Samantha.

"This time, we've arranged a good match for you. The man is the richest man in Stonebridge, worth billions. With your reputation and your current state, landing someone like him is the best luck you'll ever get. Don't be ungrateful. Just do as you're told," Adrian continued, his voice full of command.

Sloane turned her head slowly, her eyes sharp and cold as they locked onto Adrian's. It was a stare that cut through him, slicing past the lies and peeling back the mask.

"If it's such a great match," she said hoarsely but clearly, every word pressed out through clenched teeth, "why doesn't Samantha marry him?"

It was like she'd struck a nerve. Adrian's face darkened instantly, his eyes flaring with rage.

"Samantha would never marry a..."

He caught himself mid-sentence. Quickly, he straightened his collar, cleared his throat, and forced himself back into his usual smug demeanor.

"Samantha has our parents—and me—making decisions for her. That's none of your concern. You just focus on doing your duty."

Sloane narrowed her eyes slightly. So there is something shady about this marriage.

However, in the face of this obvious differential treatment, Sloane's heart, which had already been shattered and scarred, still throbbed painfully, catching her off guard.

Although she was the biological daughter of the Rivers family, from the beginning, Samantha Rivers had always been the family's beloved daughter.

Samantha lived in a luxurious room, while Sloane lived in a cramped servant's room.

Samantha wore custom-made haute couture dresses from famous international designers, while Sloane only had a few faded, outdated clothes, all of which were leftovers discarded by Samantha.

That year, when Samantha fell into the water, she couldn't swim. Sloane, desperate, jumped in to save her, but in the end, they accused her of pushing Samantha into the water out of jealousy and locked her away for three days and nights.

In the five years she spent in the asylum, she regretted it—regretted that, upon overhearing the truth about the swap from her adoptive parents, she had rushed to the Rivers family to claim her identity. She regretted that, for that cheap sense of family, she had endured repeated humiliation and schemes without speaking up. She regretted believing their so-called excuse to lay low, only to be sent to this asylum and tortured for five long years.

She took a deep breath, trying to calm the turbulent emotions in her heart, and a sarcastic smile once again curled at the corner of her mouth, its bitterness standing out sharply in the dimly lit car.

The car still sped toward the so-called "home," and Sloane knew that was where her real battle lay—except this time, she had returned for revenge!

As the car entered the Rivers Residence, Sloane got out and looked up at the familiar yet unfamiliar luxurious house, no warmth stirring in her heart.

Along the way, the servants pointed and whispered about her clothes.

On the way back, Adrian tossed her a bag of clothes, saying it was a gift from Samantha, who, fearing she didn't have anything to wear after being released, had kindly sent them to her and insisted she wear them home.

Sloane didn't even glance at it. With a flick of her hand, she threw the bag into the sea.

"You!" Adrian, furious, raised his hand to strike her.

Sloane seized his wrist, and with a light squeeze, his arm went numb instantly.

Adrian stared at her, shocked. Why can't I feel my hand?

"Adrian, I'm not the same person who would let you hit and scold me anymore," she said, her voice cold as if it carried shards of ice, her eyes radiating a terrifying light.

She tightened her grip, and Adrian, in pain, collapsed to his knees.

Ignoring the whispers of the servants, Sloane straightened her back and walked with firm steps into the villa.

Inside the living room, her father, Marshall Rivers, her mother, Helen Ashford, and Samantha were chatting and laughing. As soon as Helen saw Sloane, a look of disgust appeared on her face, as though she had seen something filthy. But after Samantha lightly touched her arm, Helen quickly replaced it with a smile.

"Sloane, you're back. You must have suffered these past years," Helen said insincerely, her tone lacking any trace of concern, instead blaming her. "This is all your fault. You shouldn't be so reckless back then, hitting people..."

Cough! Cough!

Marshall suddenly coughed several times, interrupting Helen.

Realizing her slip, Helen quickly changed the subject. "Now that you're back, you need to behave properly. In a few days, we'll take you to the Hawthorne family's banquet. Don't cause any more trouble. This marriage is something we worked hard to secure for you. If you dare make a scene, don't blame us for sending you back."

Sloane looked up at her coldly and sarcastically said, "Oh? Something you worked hard to secure for me? I think it's for the benefit of the Rivers family, isn't it?"

Samantha, surprised by Sloane's boldness, guessed it was because she was harboring resentment. She said in a soft tone, "Sloane, you're hurting Mom and Dad with what you're saying. Besides, marrying into the Hawthorne family is something many people would envy. It's a blessing everyone would want!"

Sloane looked at Samantha, her gaze piercing as if trying to see through her. "Is that so? Well then, you can have this blessing. Do you want it?"

Samantha's face changed slightly, and she nervously glanced at Marshall and Helen, too afraid to speak.

Marshall slammed his hand on the table and shouted, "Sloane, stop being unreasonable! This matter is settled, and you have no say in it."

His gaze turned threatening as he looked at her. "If you don't want those videos to be made public, you better behave."

Hearing this, Sloane's face instantly turned deathly pale, her hands unconsciously clenched into fists, her nails digging deeply into her palms, but she didn't feel the pain at all.

Marshall saw that Sloane finally reacted, and he relaxed, satisfied with the leverage he had over her.

He slowed his tone and said, "Alright, you're not going anywhere for the next few days. Stay at home and prepare properly."

Sloane's lowered head became more intense with the storm brewing in her eyes.

Samantha glanced at Sloane's clothes, showing a sneer of contempt. She then looked up at Adrian, switching to a concerned expression, "Adrian, didn't I ask you to give my clothes to Sloane? Why is she still wearing that outfit..."

Everyone looked at Sloane's blue and white attire, and Helen wrinkled her brow in disgust. "Sloane, what's wrong with you? Sammy kindly gave you clothes, but you refuse to wear them and come back dressed like this. Are you trying to embarrass the Rivers family on purpose?"

"She threw them into the sea," Adrian thought back to how she had taken the bag and tossed it straight overboard without even looking at it. His face turned instantly livid, veins bulging at his temples. "She did it on purpose. Wore those asylum rags to get your and Dad's sympathy."

The Rivers family looked at each other, their faces darkening, all agreeing that Sloane was indeed doing it on purpose.

Marshall immediately shouted angrily, "Change out of those clothes right now!"

Sloane remained unaffected by the accusations. "Changing is fine, but I want to wear clothes from Velora Atelier."

"Do you think you deserve that?" Samantha blurted out, but then realized she had overreacted. She softened her tone, "Sloane, you don't know, right? Velora Atelier only makes clothes for the Stonebridge elite. Even if you went, you'd have to wait in line and follow the rules. Clothes take months to make."

She had never worn clothes from Velora Atelier. Sloane certainly wasn't worthy.

Sloane acted as though she hadn't heard, carelessly replying, "I don't mind wearing this to meet the Hawthorne family."

Marshall's face turned green with rage, and he raised his hand, ready to discipline Sloane.

But Sloane quickly turned and headed upstairs, throwing a final remark, "If you're not afraid of embarrassment, I'm fine with it."

"You wicked girl!" Marshall trembled with fury but was helpless.

Samantha softly comforted Helen and then looked at Sloane's retreating figure, sneering.

Enjoy it while you can, Sloane. Once you marry into the Hawthorne family, I'll make sure your life is worse than death.

Sloane returned to her room and slammed the door shut. The frustration and unwillingness on her face vanished instantly, replaced by calm and determination.

Marshall thinks he can control me? I'll let him think he can.

Sloane had indeed returned because of those videos, but she wanted more than just the videos. She wanted blood for the blood of the Rivers family.

Downstairs, Marshall ordered the butler to go to Velora Atelier and have clothes made for Sloane.

Helen was displeased. "Honey, Sammy hasn't even worn clothes from Velora Atelier, why would Sloane, a country bumpkin, deserve them?"

"So what do you suggest? Should I really let her meet the Hawthorne family in that outfit?" He couldn't afford to lose face.

Samantha, ever understanding, comforted Helen, "Mom, Sloane's suffered so much over the years. She's so pitiful, I don't mind whatever happens."

Adrian angrily said, "Sammy, you're just too kind. All the suffering Sloane went through, she deserved it. That wicked woman actually killed someone."

Samantha's face changed slightly at those words, but she quickly concealed it.

Marshall's order to go to Velora Atelier was just for show. They all knew there was no way to buy those clothes, so they had already arranged for someone to go to the mall and buy something for Sloane.

As expected, the butler soon returned.

Marshall looked at him empty-handed, unsurprised. "It's fine, I've already had someone go to the mall to buy it."

The butler looked a bit strange and hesitated before saying, "The people from Velora Atelier said they'll bring the clothes personally later."

"What?" Samantha blurted out in shock, her face full of disbelief. "Are you sure Velora Atelier said they'd send the clothes over soon?"

"Yes," the butler replied, also feeling like he was in a dream. "The person in charge of Velora Atelier said it in person."

Helen was stunned as well. After a moment, a hint of joy appeared on her face. "Could it be that Velora Atelier made a mistake, thinking it was Sammy who ordered the dress, and that's why they agreed so easily?"

As she spoke, Helen grabbed Samantha's hand, her face full of pride, as if she had already decided that the dress was for Samantha.

Adrian nodded in agreement. "It's definitely that. Mom, didn't you order a custom gown from Velora Atelier for Sammy's 18th birthday party last time?"

"But they said they were busy making dresses for other socialites and couldn't arrange it..." Samantha furrowed her brows in confusion, a mix of joy and concern in her heart, afraid she might be mistaken.

"Well, they must have realized you're about to become a student of the piano master Jack Bernette. Your future is limitless, and they're rushing to flatter you," Adrian said, pride shining in his eyes as he patted Samantha's head.

"Exactly," Helen nodded repeatedly, her eyes full of hope and pride for Samantha. "Sammy, with your talent on the piano, Mr. Bernette will surely take you under his wing. Then, the Rivers family's status in Stonebridge will rise with the tide. All those gentlemen from prestigious families will be fighting to get in your good graces. Velora Atelier clearly knows what's good for them."

Samantha felt a bit lightheaded from all the praise, a smile unconsciously tugging at her lips. "Don't worry, Mom and Dad. I'll never forget the Rivers family's support."

The butler, standing aside, hesitated to speak. Seeing how happy Helen and Samantha were, he dared not say much, but...

"Madam Helen, Velora Atelier's people are here with the clothes," the servant reported as she entered.

"Let them in."

Everyone's gaze turned to the door as several Velora Atelier staff members entered, each holding an exquisite gift box. When the leader turned out to be Lena Gray, the person in charge of Velora Atelier, Helen stood up in shock.

After all, this was the kind of treatment only top-tier elite families received.

Lena wore a well-tailored black suit, her every movement exuding elegance and competence.

Helen quickly adjusted her clothes, her face beaming with a smile as she stepped forward. "Ms. Gray, you shouldn't have troubled yourself to come in person. You could have just had someone else deliver it."

Samantha stood beside her, her eyes filled with anticipation and shyness, as if she could already picture herself in the stunning gown.

But Lena only gave a faint smile. After scanning the room, she asked, "It's no trouble at all. Could you tell me where Ms. Rivers' room is? I'll personally deliver the dress to her."

At these words, Samantha slowly stood up, her face showing a proud smile. "It's okay. You can just give it to me directly."

Lena took a step back as she raised her hand, calmly explaining, "Miss Rivers, you're mistaken. This dress is for Ms. Sloane Rivers."

As soon as the words left her mouth, the smiles on the Rivers family's faces froze. Helen's eyes widened in disbelief. "What did you say? The dress is for Sloane?"

Adrian stepped forward, his face dark with anger. "Ms. Gray, have you made a mistake? Ms. Rivers has always been Sammy. Sloane is just some country bumpkin!"

Lena didn't respond to his words. Instead, she turned to Marshall, her smile unchanged. "Mr. Marshall, could you tell me where Ms. Rivers' room is?"

Marshall kept a stern face and told the butler to take Lena upstairs.

"Thank you, Mr. Marshall," Lena said calmly, neither humble nor arrogant, then led her team up the stairs without another word.

Marshall stared blankly at their retreating figures, lost in thought.

"Dad..." Adrian started to speak, but Marshall raised his hand to stop him. "Don't say anything. I've thought it through."

Samantha stood frozen, her face flushing white and red. Her once-smiling lips pressed into a hard line, and her clenched fists dug her nails deep into her palms. Bitterness and frustration surged in her chest.

"Sammy, don't be upset. We don't need Velora Atelier anyway. I'll buy you even more expensive clothes," Adrian said gently, trying to comfort her.

"Okay." Samantha forced a smile, but her eyes still burned with resentment. Velora Atelier wasn't just expensive—it was a symbol of status.

The butler led Lena to the second floor and stopped in front of Sloane's door. He reached out to push it open, but Lena quickly stepped forward and stopped him.

Standing respectfully at the door, Lena raised her hand and knocked three times. "Ms. Rivers, I'm Lena Gray from Velora Atelier. May I come in?"

The butler scoffed at her polite tone. She is just a useless girl brought back from the countryside, does she really deserve that much respect?

"Come in," came Sloane's cold voice from inside.

"Yes." As Lena opened the door, she glanced at one of her assistants.

After Lena stepped inside with the clothes, a soft noise came from behind, just enough to distract the butler. By the time he realized what happened, the door had already closed, locking him out.

Without looking around, Lena walked straight in and stopped three steps from Sloane. She lowered her head slightly and held the clothes out with both hands. "Ms. Rivers, here are your clothes, prepared according to your latest measurements."

Sloane glanced at them and pointed casually to the side. "Just leave them there."

Clothes the elite of Stonebridge could only dream of were treated like nothing here.

"I called you here because I have a question," Sloane said as she looked back at Lena. "I heard the Rivers family found me a good match. Do you know anything about that?"

Lena hesitated for a second. "Ms. Rivers, the Rivers family wants you to marry the son of the Hawthorne family—Lucas Hawthorne."

"Lucas Hawthorne?" Sloane's brows immediately furrowed. If it was the Lucas she'd heard about, then...

Lucas Hawthorne, 25 years old, one of the most outstanding young men in Stonebridge, a dream for countless women. Even when Sloane had just arrived in town, she had already heard his name.

He graduated from a top business school overseas and took over the Hawthorne Group right after returning. At the time, the previous head had just passed away, and the company was on the brink of collapse, struggling with both internal chaos and external threats.

Lucas, with his sharp mind and decisive leadership, quickly stabilized the situation. He then launched a bold and sweeping reform, single-handedly saving the dying company. In just two years, he brought the Hawthorne Group back to the top of Stonebridge's business world.

Every powerful family in Stonebridge was fighting to marry their daughter to someone like Lucas. The Rivers family, a second-tier family, was hardly in the running. As for Sloane, they wouldn't have even dared to consider her.

"So, what happened to him?" Sloane thought. Otherwise, they would've let Samantha marry him long ago.

"Three years ago, Lucas fell seriously ill," Lena said, her gaze lowered. "Rumor has it he's been in a vegetative state ever since. Lately people have been saying he doesn't have much time left."

She hesitated for a moment before continuing.

"His grandmother even went to Silverveil Abbey to see some mystic named Lucian. He told her that if Lucas got married soon… it might be enough to bring him back."

Sloane raised a brow. "Seriously? What is this, the Middle Ages?" she said, "so they're throwing a wedding at him to change his luck? Sounds like she got scammed."

Contempt flickered in her eyes...