Alpha's Abandoned Daughter is the Secret Heiress novel Chapter 165

Chapter 165: Who Is Truly Pitiful?

(Ethan’s POV)

+25 Points

Celine stopped in her tracks and turned around slowly. Her eyes were swimming with tears, but

she bit her lip stubbornly, refusing to let them fall. She took a deep breath, looking at me with a

heartbreaking kind of dignity.

“No, Ethan. You don’t need to apologize,” she said, her voice trembling but projecting a false strength. “I know she hates me. If my leaving is the price for your safety, I’ll pay it gladly. I won’t let you suffer just because of her vendetta against me.”

Her words hit me right in my weak spot. A fierce protective instinct surged in my chest. I stepped forward, awkwardly reaching out to comfort her.

Guilt washed over me. I felt like I had failed as a brother. It was because I couldn’t protect her well enough that she had to make this sacrifice.

Celine gently placed her hand on mine, stopping my apology before I could speak. She looked up at me with pure devotion.

“As long as you are okay, Ethan,” she said softly. “I’ll go to the hospital to be with Caleb. Anyway… I’m just extra in this house.”

I sighed heavily, my heart aching for her.

“You are not extra,” I promised her, my voice thick with emotion. “I will arrange the best apartment for you in the city center. It’s just temporary. I will visit you often.”

Celine’s eyes were red, but she nodded obediently. She squeezed my hand one last time.

“I’ll go.

But please, don’t make me promise I’ll disappear forever,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You’re the only family I have left.”

I nodded solemnly. “I promise.”

I gently pushed her towards the back door. “Go to the herb garden in the backyard now. Find Amelia. Get the antidote.”

***

(Celine’s POV)

As soon as I turned the corner and was out of Ethan’s sight, my shoulders relaxed. The sadness in

< Chapter 165. Who Is Truly Pitiful?

my eyes vanished instantly. A cold, triumphant sneer replaced it.

My face would be healed soon. That was all that mattered.

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I walked into the backyard. The sun was bright, casting long shadows across the garden beds. I

saw Amelia crouching in the dirt near the edge of the garden.

She was focused on pruning some rare moonlight herbs. Her hands were covered in soil.

A surge of superiority rushed through me. I walked over, my heels clicking on the stone path. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked down at her.

“Still digging in the dirt, Amelia?” I asked, my voice dripping with mockery. “I suppose you can take the girl out of the wild, but you can’t take the wild out of the girl.”

Amelia didn’t even look back at me. She just snipped a stem.

“Wait,” she said coldly.

I looked around. The garden was empty. The servants were all inside preparing dinner. There was no one here to witness anything.

I felt bold. I wanted to rub salt in her wounds.

“Amelia, do you feel frustrated now?” I asked, leaning against a tree.

Amelia’s hand paused. The shears stopped mid–air.

“Why would I be frustrated?” she asked, her tone flat.

I laughed, a sound full of smug satisfaction.

“Look at you,” I sneered. “You forced an ultimatum, and you still lost. Ethan didn’t choose me because I’m his sister by blood; he chose me because he *loves* me more. It must kill you to know that no matter what you do, you’ll never be his priority.”

***

(Amelia’s POV)

I didn’t feel the anger she wanted me to feel. I just carefully snipped the last withered leaf off the moonlight herb.

Inside my mind, Ava let out a low, irritated growl.

“*This yapping mutt is annoying,” my wolf complained. “*Make her shut up.*”

“Indeed noisy,” I replied silently.

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< Chapter 165 Who Is Truly Pitiful?

+25 Pomis

I had planned to ignore her, hand over the vial, and be done with it. But she was begging for

attention.

I stood up slowly and brushed the loose dirt from my hands. I turned around to face her.

“Since you want the antidote so much…” I said, taking a step toward her.

Celine’s eyes lit up. She thought I was handing it over. She stepped forward eagerly, a victor’s smile plastered on her face.

We were less than two feet apart.

I raised my hand. Without a single warning sign, I swung.

*Slap!*

The sound was crisp and loud in the quiet garden. My palm connected hard with her cheek.

The force of the blow sent her silk scarf and oversized sunglasses flying off her face. They landed

in the grass a few feet away.

Her face was exposed to the sunlight. It was red, swollen, and hideous from the allergic reaction.

Celine stumbled back, clutching her cheek. She stared at me in disbelief.

“Amelia! Are you crazy?!” she shrieked.

I shook my hand out casually, as if I had touched something dirty looked at her with wide,

innocent eyes.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, my voice dripping with sarcastic humor. “I thought there was a mosquito buzzing in my ear. Turns out it was just you.”

Celine’s face turned purple with rage. She lunged forward, her hands curled into claws.

“You-”

I narrowed my eyes. My gaze turned icy cold.

“Screaming so loud,” I said calmly, my voice dropping an octave. “Do you not want the antidote?”

The threat worked instantly. It was like a silencing spell.

Celine froze mid–step. Her chest heaved with suppressed rage. She bit her lip so hard it turned white. She glared at me with pure hatred, but she didn’t have the guts to say a word.

I watched her swallow her pride. It was pathetic.

“Well?” I asked, tilting my head. “Still want to analyze who is pitiful?”

< Chapter 165: Who Is Truly Pitiful?

I took a step closer to her. I towered over her, looking down with disdain.

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“You think Ethan’s cheap favor is valuable?” I scoffed. “Pathetic is needing a man’s validation to

breathe. You think Ethan’s pity is a prize? Keep it. I don’t need his protection, his money, or his name. I have my own. You’re fighting for scraps at the table, Celine, while I own the damn

restaurant.”

Celine’s face went pale. My words were like a whip, stripping away her last shred of dignity. She knew I was right, and it terrified her.

I stopped looking at her face. It was boring me.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a small glass vial. The clear liquid inside shimmered in the

sunlight.

“The antidote is here,” I said, shaking the bottle casually.

Celine’s eyes locked onto the vial. Hunger and desperation replaced the anger in her gaze. She reached out her hand, her fingers trembling.

“Give it to me,” she breathed.

Her fingers were inches away from the glass.

I smirked. I opened my fingers.

“Ops.”

The vial slipped from my hand. It fell straight down.

It landed in the soft, muddy soil of the flowerbed with a dull thud. It rolled a few times, coating the pristine glass in dark, wet dirt.

I didn’t apologize. I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at Celine, who stood frozen in

shock.

“Slip of the hand,” I said, my voice light and mocking. “But since you love the dirt so much, I’m sure you won’t mind digging for your life.”

My expression hardened. I pointed at the muddy vial with my chin.

“Fetch.”

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