From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 91

**Chapter 5**

Upon hearing those words, a profound sense of relief washed over me, and I exhaled deeply, my entire body unwinding as if a great weight had been lifted.

“What? You’re going abroad?” Rhett’s voice rose, laced with agitation and disbelief.

“Scarlett, your biological parents have come to take you away? Out of the country? This is simply unacceptable!” His eyes widened, panic etching deep lines across his face.

I chose to disregard the turmoil swirling in his expression, determined to rise from the ground. I pushed myself up, using both hands and feet, eager to make my way toward the homeroom teacher, who was calling for us.

“Scarlett!”

“Ah!” I gasped, startled by the urgency in his tone.

In a swift motion, Rhett let go of my left arm and grasped my right hand instead, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Scarlett, please don’t go,” he implored, his eyes pleading, a mixture of desperation and sincerity. “I promise I’ll protect you from now on. I won’t let Ashley bully you again.”

I raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at the corners of my lips. “So, you’ve always known who was bullying whom, haven’t you?”

Rhett hung his head, his voice barely a whisper as he stammered, “Yes.”

A cold laugh escaped me, sharp and bitter.

Rage ignited within me, flames flickering in my eyes.

So, he had been fully aware all along, yet he chose to feign ignorance, deceiving me while accusing me of tormenting Ashley. He had condemned me for merely existing, for provoking her wrath…

“Scarlett, but I…” he started, but I had heard enough.

With a swift motion, I raised my hand and struck him hard across the face, cutting off whatever words he was about to utter.

Ashley, witnessing the scene unfold, erupted in fury. “How dare you hit my brother, you witch! What gives you the right to bully him?”

Without a moment’s hesitation, I kicked Ashley behind her knees, watching as she crumpled to the floor, pain etched across her features.

In front of our classmates and Rhett, I seized her hair once more, shoving her toward the mop sink with a fierce determination.

The moment our eyes met, time seemed to freeze.

There was no other explanation—we looked astonishingly alike!

The resemblance was uncanny. My birth mother, Mrs. Sterling, and I were almost two halves of the same soul.

When she spotted the injury on my left arm, her composure shattered, and tears streamed down her cheeks.

She rushed toward me, but her feet stumbled over the scattered textbooks littering the floor.

In just a few short meters, she fell three times, yet her determination never wavered.

With red-rimmed eyes brimming with tears, she stood before me, a whirlwind of emotion.

“My child, you are my child!” she sobbed, her voice breaking with joy and relief. “Thank God—I found you! I finally found you!”

Dad quickly joined us, wrapping his arms around both me and Mom, creating a cocoon of warmth and love amidst the chaos.