He sl:apped me so hard my lip bl:ed, just because I asked where he was last night. At dawn, I quietly cooked a massive Southern feast and laid out the silver cutlery. “”That’s a good wife,”” he gloated, sitting at the head of the table. But the bl:ood drained from his face when the kitchen doors swung open and my three older brothers—captains of the city’s most feared underground syndicate—stepped out, wiping their hands with my pristine white napkins.

### Chapter 1: A Drop of Blood on the Wooden Floor and the Darkness of Dawn

*Slap!*

A deafening bang ripped through the thick air of the living room. The impact was so strong that I staggered and fell onto the cold wooden floor. A salty, pungent taste immediately spread across my tongue. I used my trembling fingers to wipe across the corner of my mouth – a fresh, hot streak of blood stained my pale skin.

“What did you just ask? Where did I go last night?”

Julian’s reckless voice, reeking of cheap alcohol and cheap women’s perfume, boomed from above me. He stood with his hands on his hips, his eyes blazing, his once handsome face now contorted with unwarranted rage.

“Let me teach you a lesson, Clara. You’re just an orphan girl I brought here from a poor town. Your job is to cook, clean, and keep your mouth shut. Don’t you dare use that interrogating tone with me!”

I lowered my head, letting my chestnut hair cover one swollen cheek and the corner of my lip that was bleeding. I didn’t cry, I didn’t beg, and I didn’t explain that I’d stayed up all night waiting for him, worried about him after hearing about a shooting in the East Harbor.

“I’m sorry, Julian,” I whispered, my voice as soft as possible.

“Hmph, you know that.” Julian spat on the floor right next to where I was kneeling, then roughly turned his back and walked upstairs. “I have an important meeting with business partners at home tomorrow morning. Prepare a proper party for me. If you embarrass me, this slap is just the beginning.”

Only when his heavy footsteps faded behind the second-floor bedroom door did I slowly stand up. I wiped the blood from my lips and looked into the large mirror in the hallway. My left cheek was flushed and bleeding.

Julian married me a year ago. He was a rising real estate speculator in the city, a man who always tried to project an image of a refined gentleman, but in reality, he was a violent, power-hungry, and ruthless villain. He married me because he thought I was a weak, orphaned girl with no one to support me, a perfect pawn to be trampled on and manipulated to satisfy his base ego.

He didn’t know, and never bothered to find out, my real surname before we got married.

I looked at the clock. Four o’clock in the morning. Dawn was about to break.

I walked into the large kitchen and switched on the warm yellow light. I gently opened the refrigerator and took out the freshest ingredients I had prepared: large pork ribs, chicken breasts, sweet corn, butter, and bags of premium flour.

I began cooking. A Southern Feast.

The crisp chopping sound of the knife on the wooden cutting board, the sizzling of oil in the thick cast-iron skillet, the fragrant aroma of freshly baked cornbread, the rich scent of crispy fried chicken, savory BBQ ribs, and the steaming gumbo of okra and shrimp. I meticulously wiped each plate and the gleaming silver knife clean, neatly arranging them on the pristine white tablecloth of the royal dining room.

I was preparing a huge feast, a feast for the most “special” guests.

—

### Chapter 2: “The Virtuous Wife” and the Feast at Dawn

Seven o’clock in the morning. The brilliant morning sun streamed through the large windows of the dining room, bathing the long table laden with lavish dishes in a golden glow.

Julian descended the stairs, impeccably tailored, his hair slicked back with gel. His eyes lit up with triumph as he saw the table overflowing with magnificent Southern cuisine and gleaming silver cutlery.

He approached, leisurely taking the seat at the head of the table. He glanced at my cracked lips, then gave a haughty, condescending smile.

“There, that’s more like it. A truly obedient wife,” Julian patted my hip, his voice laced with utter arrogance. “You’ve learned your lesson. Keep this submissive attitude, Clara, and I won’t let you suffer any hardship.”

I stood beside him, my eyes calm and unwavering, my hands clasped together beneath my apron. “It’s good that you like it, Julian. Are your partners arriving soon?”

“They’re very punctual. They’re big-time figures in the underworld that I spent a lot of money to connect with. If they just nod their heads and invest in the harbor project, I’ll be on cloud nine,” Julian rattled on, picking up a silver fork and tapping it impatiently on the table.

*Click.*

The front door of the villa opened, without a doorbell or any request for permission.

Julian raised his eyebrows, intending to stand up and scold the servants for not giving notice. But before he could leave his chair, the double wooden kitchen door was suddenly pushed open from the inside.

—

### Chapter 3: The Climax – Guests Emerging from the Shadows

None of the real estate partners entered through the front door. Instead, three tall men emerged from my kitchen.

They wore impeccably tailored, spotless, jet-black three-piece suits.

The first had slicked-back black hair and sharp, hawk-like eyes; the second had a long, weathered scar running down his left cheek; and the youngest wore a half-smile that was chillingly sinister.

All three shared one thing in common: they were leisurely using my pristine white napkins to wipe away the dark red liquid from their hands – something that looked like ketchup, but the pungent, metallic smell in the air betrayed it as something else. Blood.

Julian instantly jumped to his feet, his silver fork clattering onto the porcelain plate. All the color drained from his face in an instant, leaving a ashen, gray complexion.

He recognized these three men. Everyone in the city knew them.

These were **Elijah**, **Dominic**, and **Gideon Vance** – the three Vance brothers, the supreme leaders of *The Syndicate*, the most powerful, brutal, and fearsome underground criminal organization on the East Coast of the United States. They controlled everything from the harbor and casinos to the state’s shipping routes. Those who opposed them vanished without a trace at the bottom of the Chicago River.

“Mr… Mr. Vance? You… why are you in my kitchen?” Julian stammered, his knees shaking uncontrollably. He was trying to contact their lower-ranking subordinates, but why were the three emperors of the underworld here, at this hour, emerging from his kitchen?

Elijah, the eldest brother, tossed the blood-soaked napkin onto the table, right next to the plate of grilled ribs. He walked towards the chairman’s chair, without any formality, placed a heavy hand on Julian’s shoulder, and forcefully pushed him down into the chair.

“Julian,” Elijah said in a low voice, his tone gentle but carrying immense pressure. “You prepared a wonderful Southern feast. It’s been a long time since we’ve had a meal cooked by our own sister.”

—

### Chapter 4: The Twist That Changed the Position

“My… my sister?” Julian choked. He turned to look at me, then at the three men surrounding him like three granite statues.

Gideon, the youngest brother with the scar on his cheek, approached me. He gently lifted my chin with his finger, looking at my torn lip and swollen, red cheek. For a moment, the murderous intent in his eyes blazed like hellfire.

“Did that bastard hit you, Clara?” Gideon asked, his voice ten degrees colder.

“It was just a slap, Mr. Gideon,” I calmly replied, taking off my apron and placing it on the table. “I told you guys I wanted to test this man’s patience myself. And it seems… he’s run out of chances.”

Julian now fully understood. This shocking twist shattered all his arrogance. Clara – the “simple orphan” he thought he could abuse and trample on at will – was actually the youngest and most pampered princess of the notorious Vance mafia family. I kept my identity hidden, using a fake name to live a normal life, but my brothers never took their eyes off their little sister.

“No… it’s not like that! Mr. Vance, please listen to my explanation!” Julian shouted, intending to kneel, but Dominic, my second brother, pulled a silenced pistol from his pocket and lightly tapped the butt of the gun against Julian’s forehead.

“Shut up,” Dominic said coldly. “Do you know where we went last night, Julian?”

Julian trembled, shaking his head frantically.

“Last night, your four bodyguards and three trusted assistants at the port project… decided to betray you to the Lucchese gang,” Dominic calmly pulled up a chair opposite Julian, picking up a piece of cornbread to eat. “They planned to stage an accident tonight to eliminate you and seize the entire real estate company. My sister… she stayed up all night worrying about your life. She begged us to save you.”

Dominic swallowed the bread, his eyes looking at Julian as if he were a dead creature: “We had just dealt with those traitors outside in the car, and before we even had time to wash our hands, we heard you slapping her inside the house. Julian, you saved your life from your enemies, but you’re digging your own grave right here in this dining room.”

—

### Chapter 5: The Climax – The Verdict at the Dinner Table

Julian was completely devastated. He realized that if I hadn’t begged my brothers to save him, he would have been dead at the harbor last night. Yet he had used that very hand to strike the woman who saved his life. Regret, fear, and humiliation choked his chest.

“Clara! I’m sorry! I was crazy! I was under work pressure, that’s why I hit you!” Julian crawled across the table, trying to reach for my hand, weeping bitterly. “Please tell my brothers… I love you! I will never do it again!”

I looked at the man kneeling at my feet, unmoved. His violence was his nature, not the fault of work pressure. If I were a truly poor girl today, this slap would be the beginning of a series of eternal hellish days.

Elijah pulled a stack of documents from his vest pocket and threw them down.

Elijah shoved the document in Julian’s face.

“Sign here,” Elijah commanded.

Julian trembled as he flipped through it. It was a **Unilateral Divorce Petition** and a **Permanent Transfer of All Assets Agreement**. Julian’s entire mansion, real estate company, and bank accounts would be transferred to my name as compensation for emotional distress. He would leave this marriage empty-handed, just as he had falsely accused me before.

“I… I’ll sign! I’ll sign right now!” Julian hastily grabbed a pen from the table and signed the document as quickly as possible, hoping that giving up his assets would save his life from *The Syndicate*.

After receiving the signed document, Elijah nodded in satisfaction. He turned to his two younger brothers: “Take him out. Make sure he leaves this city in a garbage truck, and never be allowed within five hundred miles of Clara.”

“Yes, Big Brother,” Gideon smirked, thrusting the butt of his gun into Julian’s hip, dragging the wailing man out the back door of the mansion. The dining room returned to its usual quiet.

—

### Chapter 6: The Warm Dawn of Family

Elijah approached me, his usual cruel gaze gone, replaced by the tenderness of an older brother. He pulled me to sit in the head chair, then poured me a glass of warm water.

“Are you alright, Clara? If you want, I can make him pay a much higher price, even with just one finger,” Elijah said, his gaze lingering on my lips.

I smiled, a truly relieved and serene smile: “No need, brother. Let him live the life of a perpetually poor, cowardly fugitive; that’s the greatest punishment for a fame-seeker like him. From now on, I’m free.”

Dominic walked closer, sat down beside me, picked up his knife and fork, and began to enjoy the crispy fried chicken. “Your Southern cooking is still the best, Clara. You should have left him six months ago to come back and cook for us.”

“Because I stubbornly wanted to try living a normal life,” I laughed, the gloomy tears of yesterday completely disappearing in the morning breeze.

Outside the window, the sun was high in the sky, shining brightly on the blooming rose garden. This villa, this property, was now entirely mine. But the most precious thing I have is not Julian’s money, but the eternal protection and care of my family – where my brothers are ready to step out of the shadows, bringing justice to protect their sister’s smile.

I picked up the cornbread, enjoying the best breakfast of my life alongside my loved ones, ready to step into a new chapter filled with light and freedom.