The Almighty Real Heiress

Through a splitting headache, Amelia Richardson suddenly felt someone probing between her legs.

Her ice-cold eyes snapped open to find two middle-aged women—one pulling at her pants while the other struggled to pry her legs apart, trying to reach underneath.

"You're asking for it!"

Amelia kicked away the heavyset woman who was groping her. Caught off guard, the woman fell backward.

"That hurts!"

The other woman stopped tugging at Amelia's pants and hurried over to help the heavyset woman to her feet.

Amelia tried to grab the two women, only to find her hands tightly bound with rope.

Damn it! Where was she? Wasn't she supposed to be sleeping at her foster mother's house?

She quickly scanned her surroundings. It was a run-down woodshed with the door shut tight, and only a sliver of light streamed in through a small window above.

Once on her feet, the heavyset woman spat at Amelia.

"Damn it! How dare you push me! You're a bitch!"

She raised her hand to slap Amelia's face, but the other woman grabbed her arm.

"She's worth thirty thousand dollars—don't damage her! We're counting on that face to double our profit!"

The fat woman pulled back her hand, suppressing her anger. "That dose could knock out a bull, yet she woke up so quickly! Since you're awake, you might as well cooperate with the inspection."

Amelia narrowed her eyes. "What inspection?"

"For thirty thousand dollars, we have to make sure you're still a virgin."

So this was the so-called inspection?

How dare they!

Did these fools even know who she was?

She was the black market boss of Thornfield. The entire underground market in Thornfield was under her control.

Amelia let out a cold laugh, her sharp eyes flashing as she worked to free herself from the rope while deliberately stalling for time. "What thirty thousand dollars? Who the hell are you people!?"

She had flown back to Ravenshollow from Thornfield after hearing that her foster mother, Piper Thornton, was dying.

But Piper's condition wasn't serious—just a common cold.

She had planned to return to Thornfield the next day, but when she woke up, she found herself tied up in this place.

The heavyset woman grabbed one of her feet and sneered, "Piper sold you to us. If you behave, we can marry you off to someone decent. Otherwise, you'll end up with some fifty- or sixty-year-old bachelor!"

"What did you say? Piper sold me to you?"

Amelia just stared, utterly speechless.

When she was three, Piper picked her up from the roadside. Though taken in as a foster daughter, she was raised more like a servant.

From the moment she was old enough to understand, all the dirtiest and hardest chores fell on her shoulders.

So she worked hard to learn skills. At twelve, she finally had the means to leave and never came back.

But she never forgot the debt she owed for being raised.

On the first of every month, she sent money home.

The money she sent was enough for them to buy three or four apartments in the heart of any city.

This time, she only came back because she heard Piper was seriously ill and wanted to see her one last time.

But she never expected Piper to be even more ruthless than before, selling her to these people for thirty thousand dollars.

No wonder Piper had been so attentive when she returned this time.

She thought Piper had changed, but this was what she was waiting for.

She should have listened to her subordinates—the Reynolds family had no decent people, and she never should have come back.

Her mind raced as her hands kept working behind her back.

Just a little more, and she would be able to untie the rope.

Amelia took a deep breath and pretended not to believe them. "You're lying! I'm supposed to marry Isaac Reynolds!"

"Marry Isaac?" The woman laughed. "You haven't been back in years, so you wouldn't know! Isaac is about to marry the daughter of a wealthy family. They're driving a Mercedes now—why would he marry you?"

The other woman gripped her ankle harder.

"Spread your legs! We need to make sure you're still a virgin. If you're not, we'll have to demand half the money back."

"Don't try to struggle. If we accidentally hurt you, you'll be the one who suffers."

Amelia suddenly smiled.

"Let's see who suffers!"

In the next second, the rope finally came loose. She grabbed the heavyset woman's throat and lifted her off the ground.

The woman struggled desperately but couldn't break free from Amelia's iron grip.

Deprived of oxygen, her face quickly turned red and her lips purple.

Seeing this, the other woman rushed forward to help, but Amelia kicked her away, sending her crashing into the wall.

When she fell, she coughed up blood.

But the woman ignored the pain and immediately shouted outside, "Help! Someone help!"

Soon two burly men rushed in.

Each held a stick and swung it at Amelia.

Amelia tossed the woman aside and caught both descending sticks midair.

The two men froze.

Such fast reflexes!

By the time they reacted, they were already kicked away by Amelia and knocked unconscious.

Just then, the heavyset woman Amelia had thrown earlier silently lunged at her again.

But Amelia had already sensed it. When the woman got close, she spun around quickly and knocked her out with a flying stick.

Ten minutes later, Amelia walked out of the woodshed, now engulfed in flames, the harsh sunlight stinging her eyes.

She raised her hand to shield her eyes, hearing cries for help from inside.

She never looked back. After adjusting to the light, she walked expressionlessly toward the Reynolds family.

Human traffickers deserved to die!

And the next to die would be the Reynolds family!

As she walked forward, shouts came from the distance.

"Fire!"

"Put out the fire! Quick!"

The fire drew villagers carrying water buckets running toward it.

Amelia was wearing one of the middle-aged women's coats. With her head down, she didn't attract any attention, passing by the villagers rushing to fight the fire in the opposite direction.

Before long, Amelia reached the Reynolds family residence.

She lifted her foot and kicked the wooden door of the Reynolds Villa open.

The door slammed to the ground with a crash, sending up a cloud of dust.

But after entering, she found the Reynolds Villa already empty—not a soul in sight.

"They ran quickly!"

But even if they fled to the ends of the earth, she would hunt them down.

She had already repaid the debt she owed for being raised. Now it was time to settle the score.

Piper, Isaac—she wouldn't spare any of them!

Amelia walked grimly to her room.

Her room had been converted from a woodshed—small and stuffy, with a damp, moldy smell lingering in the air.

As expected, the small bag she brought back and the phone under her pillow were gone.

There wasn't anything valuable in the bag, just an ID.

But this would make getting back more troublesome.

No matter—once she got to town, she could borrow a phone and call her subordinates to pick her up.

Just as she was about to leave, hurried footsteps suddenly came from outside.

Amelia frowned, but then flashed a barely noticeable smile.

It seemed that someone with a death wish had returned.

She looked around, grabbed a sickle from behind the door, and walked out like the grim reaper.

But when she stepped out, the person peeking inside wasn't from the Reynolds family—it was a young man in his twenties she had never seen before.

His face was smeared in dried mud and his hair was disheveled, yet he was wearing a suit.

The suit was tattered, and a rusty tricycle stood behind him.

Amelia hid the sickle behind her back.

"Who are you looking for?"

Perhaps her footsteps had been too light when she stepped out. The young man only noticed her now, his gaze shifting toward her.

The next second, when he saw that her face resembled his mother, Natalie Wood, by sixty or seventy percent, his eyes widened and tears streamed down his face.

"Amelia! It's really you! Amelia!"

He charged toward Amelia like a man possessed.

But he suddenly stopped about two feet away from Amelia.

Amelia was pointing the sickle at him.

If he took one more step forward, the sickle would slice across his throat.