Chapter 2She Bankrupted Her Own Family

The next morning, a persistent gray drizzle blanketed Riverport.

Inside the Bradford manor, however, the atmosphere buzzed with high-voltage excitement.

Today was the triennial Global Financial Summit held at the city's Grand Continental Pavilion. An invitation to this gala was the ultimate marker of pedigree; for the Bradfords, it was a golden opportunity to rub shoulders with international power brokers and elevate their mid-tier conglomerate to the next stratosphere.

By dawn, a premier styling team had turned the ground floor into an upscale salon.

Nancy sat dead center, surrounded by stylists and hair assistants like a pampered debutante.

"Miss Nancy, your complexion is simply luminous," the lead makeup artist fawned, dabbing translucent powder across her cheekbones. "Pure porcelain."

Nancy offered a demure blush, but her gaze kept darting toward the grand staircase.

I was making my way down, taking my time. I wore a minimalist, charcoal-black cashmere coat over a simple silk slip. No heavy makeup, my hair loosely gathered with an understated wooden hairpin.

Tucked into the deep pocket of my coat, however, was a faint sliver of crimson silk cord—attached to an imperial-grade mutton-fat jade talisman my adoptive mother had couriered to me just last night.

"Iris!"

Nancy’s sharp eyes caught the movement immediately. She rose from her vanity, the tulle of her gown whispering against the Persian rug.

She glided over, her eyes fixating on the red cord peeking from my pocket.

"Are you... planning to wear that to the summit?" she asked, her brow furrowing with perfectly calibrated concern. "There will be hundreds of national media outlets there. Don't you think that outfit is a bit... underdressed?"

Eleanor emerged from the dining room with a porcelain teacup in hand.

The moment she took in my attire, her maternal smile evaporated into a scowl of profound exhaustion.

"Iris, do you have any concept of family honor?" Eleanor stepped up, her voice dropping to a harsh, strained whisper. "At an event of this caliber, showing up looking like an ordinary bystander... are you trying to turn us into a laughingstock?"

She let out an irritated sigh and pointed toward a garment bag draped over a velvet armchair.

"That’s one of Nancy’s couture gowns from last season. It’s slightly out of date, but it’s still custom Parisian silk. Go put it on."

I glanced at the dress.

It was an excessively ruffled, baby-pink confection designed for someone with Nancy's petite, fragile frame—at least one size too small for my taller, athletic silhouette. Forcing myself into it would make me look like an oversized doll stuffed into borrowed clothes.

"No thanks," I said, my voice entirely flat. "I don't need a costume."

"Why must you always be so stubborn!" Eleanor pressed a manicured hand to her collarbone, turning in exasperation toward Ethan and Austin as they walked through the foyer. "Ethan, look at your sister! She’s utterly impossible!"

Ethan shook off the morning chill at the entryway, adjusted his glasses, and swept a detached glance over me.

"Let it go, Mother," Ethan said in his usual patronizing tone. "She spent twenty years in backwater towns. You can't expect her to understand high-society decorum overnight."

He looked at me as if granting a generous corporate pardon.

"When we arrive at the convention center, you don't need to walk the red carpet with us. Follow my assistant through the service entrance and take a seat in the back corner. As long as you stay out of sight, no one will notice."

A back-alley relative. The service corridor. A dark corner.

They had already mapped out my entire existence as a dirty little secret they intended to keep in the shadows.

"Ethan is right, Mother. Iris just needs time to adapt," Nancy piped up sweetly, taking another step closer to me. "By the way, Iris... what's that in your coat pocket? The red string looks so interesting."

She reached out with faux curiosity, her fingers aiming straight for my pocket.

I took half a step back, letting her hand grasp empty air.

Nancy froze mid-motion, her eyes instantly brimming with hurt. "I... I only wanted to make sure it didn't fall out..."

Austin crossed the foyer in two long strides, yanking Nancy protectively behind him while glaring at me with raw disgust.

"What is your problem now, Iris?" he snapped. "Nancy was just trying to help you. Must you treat everyone like an enemy?"

"I don't like people touching my things," I said.

"And what great treasure could you possibly possess?" Eleanor scoffed, her patience entirely spent.

Without warning, she reached out and snatched the crimson cord, yanking the carved white jade pendant directly out of my pocket.

The moment that stone was exposed to the light—flawless, glowing with a milky, translucent warmth that seemed to breathe with its own inner luminance—the foyer fell into an abrupt, stunned silence.

Even without an appraiser's eye, Ethan could tell the artifact was extraordinary.

"This jade..." Richard murmured, stepping out from the gallery, his eyes wide.

"It's gorgeous..." Nancy’s eyes lit up with unvarnished covetousness. She tugged at Eleanor's arm, swaying gently. "Mom, my chest has been feeling so tight lately. The doctor said wearing natural jade can soothe the heart and calm the nerves. This piece feels so warm... could I borrow it for just a few days?"

Eleanor's expression softened instantly, and she turned to me with an expectant smile.

"Iris, since Nancy likes it so much, and you're the older sister, let her wear it for the summit. Think of it as a blessing from you for her recovery."

Though phrased as a request, she was already fastening the silk cord around Nancy's slender neck.

I watched their seamless choreography.

No shouting, no physical violence. Just the leverage of "poor health" and "sisterly duty" used to casually strip away the protective talisman my adoptive mother had blessed for me.

"That was given to me by my adoptive mother," I said, standing perfectly still, my voice devoid of inflection.

Austin let out a sharp chuckle. "A woman who runs a scrap yard couldn't afford genuine nephrite jade. It’s probably chemically treated resin. Nancy wearing it is doing you a favor."

Nancy gave a graceful twirl, the luminous jade glowing against her porcelain collarbones. "Thank you, Iris! I promise I'll take such good care of it!"

I looked at the stone resting against her chest.

That talisman had been consecrated by the most revered Taoist master in East Asia, commissioned by a Hong Kong shipping magnate specifically to suppress and absorb volatile, lethal karmic energy.

"Don't mention it," I murmured, calmly buttoning up my black cashmere coat. "I just hope your luck is heavy enough... to survive carrying it."

...