Revenge is best served cold

Chapter 1439

Twenty years ago, the streets overseas were bone-chillingly cold. Winter in the

slums was a season of loss, with people succumbing daily to the biting frost. They draped themselves in flimsy grey coats, scavenging for jackets from the deceased. These weren't filled with cotton but with straw, yet somehow they managed to fend off some of the bitter wind.

Odie's mother had smuggled them over, crammed in the bottom of a ship's hold, clutching him tightly. She dreamt of finding refuge with a wealthy young man she once shared fleeting moments of warmth with. Yet, life overseas was far more tangled than they had ever imagined. Odie could still recall how they never even glimpsed his father before being unceremoniously tossed out of the affluent neighborhood by a security guard.

In his mind, it was a grand villa, an imposing iron gate standing as a barrier between them and a world they weren't meant to enter. They wouldn't even spare them a dime.

lady of the house, "Your husband and I have a child! I'm carrying the Roy family's heir!" She had imagined her words would spark shame or jealousy, but the lady's face remained unmoved, not

a grand illusion. As he grew older, his understanding deepened. In the world of the wealthy, everything has a price. Rich men's wives don't lose their minds over affairs; they're more clear-headed and rational than anyone else. Marriage is just a transaction, a mutual support system

blind eye to each other's actions. As long as the other woman doesn't threaten the main wife's position, what

chemical reaction-dopamine sparked between a man and a woman—that fades over time. Love is the most elusive thing. The wealthy don't cling

told himself not to cry. He knew she loved him, but he also resented her-resented her selfishness, her foolishness. Odie silently vowed never to follow in her footsteps. He was determined to make

he'd live in that wealthy district, become one of them.