As Lilian stepped gracefully out of the sleek black car, Landon was already by her side, guiding her toward the imposing Goodman family estate. The grand entrance loomed ahead, its towering pillars casting long shadows in the fading afternoon light. As they crossed the threshold into the expansive hall, dozens of pairs of eyes snapped toward them, the murmurs of the gathered family members rippling through the air like an electric current.
The room was thick with tension. The Goodman family had assembled in full force, their expressions a swirling mix of shock, awe, jealousy, disbelief, and even raw, unmasked hatred. Amidst this sea of familiar faces, Lilian stood apart — luminous and otherworldly, like a radiant moon glowing defiantly against a backdrop of dull stars.
Her beauty was almost surreal. Her delicate features seemed sculpted by some divine hand, ethereal and flawless. Long, dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, catching the light and shimmering faintly with an almost unnatural blue hue. Her eyes, deep and dark, held the mesmerizing sparkle of a distant galaxy, pulling every gaze toward her with an irresistible magnetism. The very atmosphere seemed to tighten around her presence, as if the air itself were holding its breath.
In a quiet corner, a young man watched her approach, his eyes wide with disbelief, as though struggling to process the sight before him.
Landon paid no mind to the piercing stares and whispered judgments. He was focused on his task, preparing to lead Lilian up the grand staircase when a sharp, disdainful voice cut through the room.
“Landon, my father is lying unconscious, and you bring some random teenage girl here? What game are you playing? You can’t even hide your schemes anymore,” sneered a well-dressed woman, her tone dripping with scorn.
Landon inhaled slowly, his fingers clenching into tight fists at his sides. Yet, he answered with measured politeness, “Ma’am, this is Ms. Lilian—the doctor personally requested by the master himself. I ask you to refrain from making baseless accusations.”
The woman scoffed loudly, a cruel laugh escaping her lips. “You expect us to believe that? Who does she think she is? Just some stray fed by our Goodman family. And that brat—what, barely fifteen? You call her a miracle healer? Do you think we’re fools?”
Landon’s knuckles whitened, but he remained silent, refusing to rise to the bait.
Suddenly, a bloated, middle-aged man with bleary eyes and a lecherous grin swaggered forward. His gaze lasciviously fixed on Lilian, and he leered openly. “Come on, Landon. Bringing a pretty thing like this to a dying man? What a waste. Girl, why don’t you come with me instead, hmm?”
Before he could make a move, a heavily made-up woman with sharp, red nails lunged at Lilian, shrieking, “You little whore! Flirting with my man right in front of me? I’ll scratch that pretty face off—”
Her words were cut off abruptly.
With a swift, practiced motion, Lilian’s foot lashed out, sending the woman hurtling across the gleaming marble floor. She crashed against the far wall with a heavy thud and crumpled unconscious.
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