The air crackled with palpable tension, thick with unspoken resentments and simmering power struggles. Parker's outburst was the spark that ignited the powder keg.
"Ekaterina! You good for nothing, you're so ungrateful!" he spat, his face flushed with anger. He stood abruptly, raising a hand as if to strike her. It was a familiar gesture – a display of dominance, a casual assertion of his perceived superiority.
But Ekaterina was no longer the passive recipient of such displays. Years of hardship and survival had forged her into something far more resilient than they could imagine.
She reacted with lightning speed, rising to her feet faster than the eye could follow. Before Parker's hand could connect, she slapped him across the face with surprising force. The sound echoed sharply in the opulent hall, silencing the room momentarily.
The slap was not born of rage, but of calculated defiance. It was a clear message: she would no longer tolerate their condescension, their attempts to control her. It was a declaration of independence, a refusal to be reduced to the role of a pawn in their family games.
She didn't stop there. With a fluid, almost predatory grace, she placed one foot firmly on the edge of the antique mahogany table, using it as leverage to elevate herself slightly.
From this vantage point, she pointed a slender finger at each of her siblings in turn, her gaze unwavering and cold. Despite the fact that they were not blood-related to her – they were the children of Taylor and his ex wife – it was the memory of her mother's unwavering love and devotion that fueled her resolve.
"So what if I am ungrateful?" she declared, her voice ringing with a newfound steeliness.
"I'd rather stay with Mom than be with you ingrates."
The statement hung in the air, a blatant challenge to their authority and a pointed criticism of their character. It was a calculated move, designed to provoke and unsettle.
Maxwell, the third brother, a man known for his simmering frustration and quick temper, reacted predictably. He surged forward, his hand raised in a mirror image of Parker's earlier gesture – an attempt to slap her into submission.
But Ekaterina was ready. Her reflexes, honed by years of navigating dangerous situations in her previous life and now amplified by her rebirth, were impeccable. She dodged the incoming blow with effortless grace, pivoting on her heel and delivering a sharp smack across Maxwell's face in return.
The slap reverberated through the room, silencing the already tense atmosphere. Maxwell staggered back, momentarily stunned, his hand flying to his stinging cheek.
"Why are you all brainless?" Ekaterina continued, her voice dripping with cold sweetness.
"Mom needs someone to protect her in a wealthy family home since it is decided you third-rich generation have fun yourselves."
It was a masterful manipulation, subtly shifting the blame onto them while simultaneously positioning herself as Mom's protector – a role that would undoubtedly garner her favor and influence within the household. The implication was clear: they were frivolous and incapable of providing the necessary support for their mother, while she, Ekaterina, was strong and capable.
"Youuu!" Zion snapped, his face contorted with indignation.
Zion, the fourth brother, a perpetually aggrieved young man who seemed to thrive on drama, was the next to react. His face flushed a deep crimson, his hands clenched into fists. He opened his mouth to retort, but Ekaterina cut him off before he could utter a word.
"Youuu what?" she challenged, raising a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. Her gaze was unwavering, daring him to escalate the situation.
"Want me to be kind? Sorry, I'm so lazy," she added with a dismissive shrug. It was a calculated insult, designed to belittle him and further erode his already fragile ego. The casualness of her delivery only amplified the sting of her words.
"Sister why are you being so rude dad just…" Jennifer began, attempting to mediate the situation with her usual saccharine tone and wide-eyed innocence.
Jennifer's attempt at peacemaking was met with a swift and utterly devastating rebuke. Ekaterina's eyes narrowed, the icy depths hardening into a glacial glare.
"Shut up, Jennifer," she snapped, her voice devoid of any warmth or pretense. The words were clipped and precise, carrying the weight of utter disdain.
"I hate green tea." It was a seemingly random statement, but it was a carefully chosen barb aimed directly at Jennifer's core. Jennifer's entire persona revolved around the image of a delicate, refined socialite – an image meticulously crafted around the ritual of sipping expensive green tea while discussing trivial matters with other equally pretentious individuals. To dismiss it so casually was to dismiss her entire identity.
{Humph want to play green tea you and I can do it.} Ekaterina inwardly complained, a flicker of amusement dancing behind her icy facade.
Taylor's outburst was a desperate attempt to regain control of the situation, to reassert his authority over Ekaterina. The venom in his voice was palpable, a clear indication of his frustration and simmering resentment.
"You better not regret this," he snapped at Ekaterina, his face contorted with anger.
Ekaterina remained unfazed, her composure unwavering. With a deliberate gesture, she stood up straighter and reached down to scoop up Buddy, her small, fluffy white dog. Buddy, sensing her shift in mood, erupted into a flurry of excited barks, his tail wagging furiously. He leaped into her arms, showering her face with sloppy kisses.
Ekaterina chuckled softly as Buddy slobbered all over her face, the simple act of affection a comforting balm against the escalating tension in the room.
It was a calculated move, a subtle display of affection that served to further undermine Taylor's authority.
"I may be defiant, but I am not without warmth or compassion."
"I won't," Ekaterina replied calmly, her voice steady and resolute. She turned and walked away from the chaos unfolding below, heading towards the narrow staircase that led to the attic – her room.
The attic was a stark contrast to the opulent grandeur of the rest of the mansion. It was a dusty, forgotten space filled with discarded furniture and forgotten memories. But for Ekaterina, it felt like a sanctuary – a place where she could retreat from the drama and reconnect with her true self.
She looked at her shabby duffel bag and a well-worn suitcase sitting in the corner of the room.
She grabbed her bag and suitcase, the familiar weight grounding her. It was a minimalist collection of belongings – clothes, a few cherished mementos from her previous life, and a small, intricately carved wooden box containing a collection of ancient artifacts – remnants of a past she was only beginning to piece together.
"Sister, the Marchettis Family are ruthless," Jennifer called out, her voice dripping with manufactured concern as she followed Ekaterina up the stairs.
"From the brothers, grandparents, aunts, cousins, and uncles." She paused dramatically, allowing her words to sink in. "They're not to be trifled with."
Ekaterina simply turned and looked at Jennifer, her expression unreadable. There was a subtle shift in her demeanor – a tightening of her jawline, a hardening of her eyes – that hinted at the formidable power she possessed.
"Oh?"
"Dear sister, how would you know?" Ekaterina asked, her voice laced with a playful pout. It was a carefully crafted expression, designed to disarm and unsettle Jennifer, to expose the cracks in her carefully constructed facade. The question hung in the air, loaded with unspoken implications.
Jennifer huffed, her face flushing a delicate shade of pink. The carefully maintained composure she'd cultivated faltered for a fleeting moment before she recovered, forcing a smirk onto her lips. It seemed like Ekaterina truly didn't have any memories of her previous life—a fortunate circumstance, Jennifer thought smugly. A blank slate to manipulate.
"You will just suffer," Jennifer continued, regaining her composure.
"Humph, plus in six to eight years our family will become the most powerful families across the globe."
Jennifer's pronouncement was delivered with an air of smug certainty, a blatant display of ambition and entitlement. It was a clear attempt to intimidate Ekaterina, to remind her of the immense power that the Wilson family wielded.
But Ekaterina remained unmoved, her gaze fixed on Jennifer with an unsettling intensity. She saw through the veneer of concern, recognizing the manipulative machinations beneath.
"Darling, this sister of yours is stupid, I mean look at this," Taotao complained, flitting around Ekaterina's head in agitated circles.
"She acts like she is a god!" The little fox girl's voice was laced with exasperation.
"Honestly, the audacity!"
Ekaterina didn't respond aloud, but inwardly, a silent communication flowed between her and Taotao.
{Taotao, the reason the Wilson became filthy rich in the previous life because of my connections, I have over three thousand different identities.} Ekaterina inwardly complied to Taotao, a silent transmission of information that bypassed spoken words. The message was precise, concise, and brimming with unspoken power.
Taotao's ears perked up, her eyes widening with a mixture of surprise and dawning comprehension. She zipped around Ekaterina's head once more before hovering in front of her face, scrutinizing her with renewed interest.
"Three thousand identities? Darling! That's… that's extraordinary! You were practically a ghost in the machine!" Taotao exclaimed, her voice filled with awe.
"How on earth did you manage that?"
Ekaterina simply shrugged, a faint smile playing on her lips.
The weight of those three thousand identities settled upon Ekaterina, a silent burden and a formidable advantage. It wasn't just about having aliases; it was about the intricate web of relationships, knowledge, and influence she'd cultivated across countless lives, all meticulously maintained and accessible at will. It was a vast, hidden empire built on secrets and strategic alliances.
"It was… a necessity," Ekaterina replied inwardly to Taotao, her thoughts still shielded from the Wilson family's eavesdropping.
"Survival often demands unconventional methods."
She didn't elaborate, knowing that Taotao, with her inherent understanding of chaotic energies and dimensional intricacies, would grasp the full implications without needing further explanation. The previous life had been a constant game of cat and mouse, dodging powerful enemies and navigating treacherous political landscapes.