The Phantom Heiress Rising From The Shadows

Chapter 3

Chapter 3 I Thought Your Design Drafts Were Trash

Brenna looked at the Barrett family with clear contempt, her expression calm as she revealed the truth to the surrounding guests. "For over a decade, this family has capitalized on my designs-transforming a modest auto parts business into a full-fledged car-manufacturing empire, even securing a public listing. But now that they've outgrown their need for me, they're framing me for theft, all to protect their real daughter. How touching," she

said with a snort.

Alec's face darkened with fury, his voice rising. "What kind of nonsense is this? You barely made it through grade school. How could you possibly understand mechanical design?"

Brenna held her designs up for the gathering guests to see. "Take a good look. This isn't a blueprint for new energy auto parts. It's an advanced cargo ship design. I have no reason to steal from anyone, least of all Isabella"

Now, the regret hit her hard. In the past, she had been too young to see through Alec's schemes. She had been too trusting to realize why he had insisted on putting his name on her designs.

It was painfully clear now-Alec had been setting this up from the very beginning.

Brenna tapped a line of component names on the blueprint. "Read this carefully. It's in Amland's language, and it translates to 'nuclear-powered cargo ship propulsion system'."

Tilting the paper slightly, she pointed to the faint watermark in the lower right corner, which shimmered under the shifting light. "This is my personal mark. You can compare it to Isabella's so-called 'designs'. Her designs

are garbage," she said.

Just as she finished speaking, Sarah Moss, one of the servants, hesitantly stepped forward, holding an identical folder. "Miss Barrett... I thought these were trash, so I threw them in the trash can. These are your design

drafts..."

Brenna let out a sharp, mocking laugh. "Did you hear that? Even Sarah recognized them as trash."

Isabella's face burned with humiliation. She shot Sarah a murderous glare before yanking the folder from her hands and flipping through it in a panic. Then, with a furious growl, she slammed it down. "These designs

aren't mine!" she exclaimed.

paled, stammering, "I-I didn't mean to say they were trash! I just...

threw them away..."

awkwardly and realizing there was no way to clarify this

worse.

"Oh, please! Look at yourself. Do you really expect us to believe that someone who never even finished grade school designed a

0.0%

+4

X+

X+

19:58

<

Thought Your Design Drafts

yourself with the Barrett family again from now

glance. She simply flipped open both her own design drafts and Isabella's, setting them side by side

Alec clenched his fists, his entire body tense with barely restrained anger. Then, he barked, "Enough with this nonsense! Do you really think you made our family rich? The Barrett family's success is built on my and your brother's hard work you had nothing to do with it! We clothed and fed you

feeding off his rage, didn't hesitate to pile on the lies. "We took you in, gave you everything, spent millions raising you-and you dare act like you're the victim here? Do you think the scraps of talent you brought to this family mean anything compared to what

out that door, the Barrett family's problems would no longer be hers. "Fine. We

down to grab her laptop from

Brenna. I was kind enough to offer you a way out earlier, but in return, you throw dirt on me and my family? You make mistakes, refuse to apologize, then try to turn it around on us? This computer must contain confidential information about the Barrett family. You can't take it with you!" Before anyone could react, Isabella grabbed a glass of water from a nearby guest's hand and poured it directly over the keyboard of the

across the face. Then she grabbed the drenched

her face twisted with fury. She raised a trembling hand

second too late, lunged forward, incensed. "The Barrett family raised you, and this is how

a convenient target for her frustration, an outlet for her anger. But never -not once

hanging mid-air. "Mom,