The twins, Alex and Austin, spoke in perfect unison, their voices echoing each other with unnerving precision.
"She's good for nothing. Let her go; she'll be hated anyway."
Ekaterina remained silent, her expression unreadable behind the blindfold. She felt a strange detachment from the escalating drama unfolding around her—a sense of observing it all from a distance, as if she were watching a play unfold on a stage.
She stood up slowly, a sigh escaping her lips as she held Tun Tun closer. The tiny creature nuzzled against her neck, offering a silent comfort that eased the sting of their words.
"Yes, I am useless, trash," she conceded, her voice devoid of emotion.
"So what? I am choosing to go with Mom." The words hung in the air, a quiet declaration of independence that defied their expectations.
Without another word, she sat right back down in the armchair, gracefully reaching for a delicate porcelain cup filled with fragrant green tea. She took a slow, deliberate sip, her gaze fixed on some unseen point beyond the room. It was an act of defiance—a refusal to be rattled by their insults, a demonstration of her unwavering resolve.
Jennifer, unable to contain herself any longer, rushed forward with an exaggerated display of concern.
"Sister, the Marchetti Family are ruthless!" Jennifer whispered, her voice dripping with a smug, theatrical concern. She leaned in close, her hazel-green eyes gleaming with a mixture of feigned worry and thinly veiled triumph. "They're known for their cutthroat business practices and their willingness to do anything to achieve their goals."
Ekaterina slowly turned her head, the blindfold shifting slightly as she focused on Jennifer. A subtle smirk played on her lips—a fleeting expression that betrayed a depth of understanding that Jennifer clearly failed to grasp.
"Oh, but how would you know?" Ekaterina asked, her voice deceptively innocent. It was a carefully crafted question, designed to expose the hollowness of Jennifer's concern and subtly mock her limited experience.
Jennifer's face flushed slightly at the unexpected challenge.
She huffed out, momentarily silenced by Ekaterina's pointed question, but quickly recovered, her smile tightening into a strained facade. She wouldn't admit it, not to anyone, but Ekaterina's words had struck a nerve.
"The Wilson Family will become the richest and most powerful group across the globe in ten years," Jennifer continued, her voice regaining its confident tone. She was attempting to reassert her dominance, to remind everyone of the glittering future that awaited them within the Wilson family fold. "Why would you choose anything else?"
Ekaterina just slowly smirked, a subtle curve of her lips that didn't quite reach her eyes. The smirk held a depth of amusement and knowing that was almost unsettling. How foolish Jennifer thought! Did Jennifer truly believe they would achieve such heights without her intervention?
If it wasn't for her help—her strategic guidance, her subtle manipulations, her willingness to challenge those arrogant brothers and their father—they wouldn't have even begun to climb the ladder of power. She had been the silent architect behind their success, the unseen hand that steered them towards their ambitions.
And now, Jennifer believed she could simply coast along, basking in the glory of a future she hadn't truly earned? The thought was almost laughable.
Ekaterina wanted to see how powerful they could become without her. Without her constant vigilance, without her meticulous planning, without her willingness to confront uncomfortable truths and make difficult decisions. She wanted to observe them, to analyze their strategies, to witness firsthand whether they could truly achieve greatness on their own merit.
The tension in the living room remained thick as Ekaterina, with a quiet dignity that belied the storm of emotions swirling within her, rose from her chair. Without a backward glance at the assembled Wilsons, she turned and walked towards the direction of her designated room—a temporary sanctuary in this unfamiliar and hostile environment.
Her movements were graceful, almost ethereal, as she navigated the opulent hallway. Each step was deliberate, radiating an aura of self-possession that seemed to defy the condescending gazes that followed her. She wasn't seeking confrontation; she was simply asserting her right to exist, to be treated with respect, even if they refused to acknowledge her worth.
The room itself was lavishly appointed—a spacious suite adorned with antique furniture and priceless artwork. But Ekaterina barely registered the luxurious surroundings.
The Sect was renowned for its rigorous training and the enigmatic nature of its disciples. Those who emerged from its depths were often whispered about in hushed tones—individuals possessing extraordinary abilities and a profound understanding of the mystical arts. Yet, ironically, Ekaterina had remained largely unaware of the true extent of the Sect's power and influence during her time there. She'd been sheltered, protected by a devoted circle of disciples, senior brothers, and sisters, and most importantly, by her masters.
Back in the mountains, she'd been thoroughly spoiled—a pampered prodigy indulged with rare delicacies, exquisite artifacts, and unwavering adoration. Her disciples had catered to her every whim, her senior brothers and sisters had fiercely defended her honor, and her masters had showered her with guidance and affection. It was a life of blissful ignorance, shielded from the harsh realities of the outside world.
Now, as she settled onto the plush bed, crossing her legs in a posture of serene composure, a different impulse took hold—the ingrained habit of cultivation. It was a practice deeply embedded within her from her time at the Auzge Mist Ghost Sage Sect, a fundamental aspect of their training. Cultivation was the process of refining one's internal energy, strengthening the body and spirit, and ultimately unlocking one's potential.
Ekaterina began to move her hands in slow, deliberate circles, mimicking the ancient techniques she'd been taught. She focused on visualizing the flow of energy within her meridians—the pathways through which Qi, or spiritual energy, coursed through the body. But as she attempted to channel that energy and initiate the cultivation process, she abruptly halted her movements.
A wave of profound laziness washed over her, a sensation so intense it felt almost physical. The rigorous discipline she'd once embraced with unwavering dedication now seemed like an insurmountable burden. The memories of grueling training sessions, of pushing her body and mind to their absolute limits, flooded her mind.
She was simply too lazy to try.
The desire for effortless comfort, for indulging in the simple pleasures of life, overwhelmed her. The relentless pursuit of power and enlightenment, the driving force that had consumed her in her previous life, felt distant and irrelevant. This time around, she wanted to savor the moment, to enjoy the luxury and ease that had been denied to her for so long.
With a sigh of contentment, she abandoned the cultivation attempt altogether.