Revenge After Prison

Never Given Me Money

Julian came striding toward me, and the moment his eyes fell on my clothes, irritation clouded his face. His brows knit tightly as he barked, “Didn’t I tell you to change into a gown? What are you wearing? Do you have any idea what kind of event this is?”

I opened my mouth to explain, but he cut me off sharply.

“When you got out of prison, you already looked miserable enough—and now that you’re home, you want to parade around in front of everyone, playing the pitiful victim again? Trying to make it seem like we’ve wronged you, so people will think the Locke family mistreats you? Aria, you’re still the same—pathetic and manipulative beyond saving.”

He reached out to grab me, still fuming. “Go back and change! Stop embarrassing us—”

I stepped aside, dodging him.

He grasped at empty air, his anger flaring hotter. “You dare avoid me?”

I lifted my gaze to meet his. The hatred and disgust in his eyes were all too familiar.

I had endured that look for three years in this house—every time it pierced into me like invisible claws, tearing at my chest, forcing tears to well up that I could never let fall. All it ever earned me was, ‘Stop acting pitiful.’

Maybe I had grown used to it.

Maybe prison had burned away whatever was left of my pride.

Now, when I met Julian’s contemptuous stare, I felt nothing at all.

His approval or disdain no longer had the power to touch me.

I looked at him calmly, my tone steady and detached. “I don’t have a gown.”

Julian’s fury deepened. “You don’t have one? Then buy one!”

I drew in a slow breath. His prejudice against me was too deep; nothing I said would ever reach him. I’d tried explaining before, but the more I spoke, the more he twisted my words, until every defense became proof of guilt. I was done trying.

“I don’t have money,” I said flatly.

His expression darkened, disbelief twisting into rage. “No money? During those three years you lived here, you never lacked food or clothing. The company’s accounting department transferred five hundred thousand dollars to your card every month—fifty thousand per month, for three years, that’s eighteen million in total! Eighteen million in pocket money, and you’re telling me you couldn’t afford a few decent dresses? You deliberately dress like this just to make it look like the Locke family’s been cruel to you!”

“Aria, you can’t be so selfish,” Julian snapped, his tone heavy with accusation. “You’ve already made enough of a scene. We’ve compensated you plenty. You should know when to stop—any more of this, and you’re just being dramatic!”

Of course. I’d known it would end like this. No matter what I said, I would never be believed.

I stared straight at him, unblinking.

For some reason, that calm, steady gaze made Julian falter. His voice wavered slightly. “Why are you looking at me like that? I didn’t say anything wrong.”

Didn’t say anything wrong? Ha.

I laughed coldly inside. I hadn’t intended to argue—but the way he stood there, arrogant and self-righteous, stirred something dark in me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed people approaching. Fine then. If it was going to turn into a spectacle, I might as well make it big. I’d already lost my dignity—there was nothing left to protect. But Julian, so obsessed with appearances—let’s see how he handled being exposed.

“I never received a cent from the company’s finances,” I said clearly, my voice ringing through the hallway. “Not five hundred thousand, not even fifty cents. Julian, if you’re going to accuse me, at least make it sound believable.”

The hatred in his eyes deepened, his jaw tightening. “You really don’t know when to quit, do you? Aria, you’re forcing my hand—don’t blame me for embarrassing you.”

He pulled out his phone, dialing a number, and switched it to speaker.

“Check for me,” he ordered coldly. “How much money did the company transfer each month to Aria’s account?”

There was a brief pause, then the voice of the finance officer came through, hesitant.

“Aria? You mean Miss Aria, sir?”

“Yes,” Julian said impatiently.

“Then there’s no need to check, Mr. Locke.”

Julian frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Because the company has never transferred any money to Miss Aria’s account,” the voice replied.

Julian froze, disbelief flickering across his face.

“What do you mean, never?” His voice was low, almost disbelieving. “I gave explicit instructions…”

“Julian, didn’t you know? Madam said Miss Aria came from an orphanage, with a narrow perspective, and her friends were all shady types. Suddenly giving her fifty thousand in pocket money might corrupt her. At that time, Miss Aria was still in high school, living in the Locke household with all her needs met, so she really didn’t have anywhere to spend it—so the pocket money was waived…”

Julian’s expression froze in shock.

“Oh, and Madam also raised Miss Evangeline’s monthly pocket money from five hundred thousand to one million. She said that since Miss Aria had returned, she worried Miss Evangeline might feel hurt, so the extra five hundred thousand was meant as compensation for her. President, you should have known about this, right?”

Julian felt as if his throat had been grabbed—he was suffocating. He… didn’t know.

More and more people had gathered around, and they all heard the voice coming from the phone. Everyone present was stunned.

The Locke family may not be the richest in Bayou Pointe, but they were still one of the top local wealthy families. For children of the wealthy, tens or hundreds of thousands in monthly pocket money was common—but who had ever heard of a wealthy heiress not receiving a single cent in pocket money? The Locke family was unique in this.

Biological children got nothing, yet the adopted daughter received a million every month, showered with indulgence.

The guests whispered among themselves. Julian felt as if needles were pricking his back, his face burning with a mix of shame and anger. He couldn’t believe that such a humiliating thing could happen in the Locke household—no matter how big their family was, they wouldn’t be so stingy as to withhold even tens of thousands in pocket money from their own flesh and blood.

Julian’s voice turned cold as he confronted Aria: “Even if the finance department didn’t transfer the money to you, your parents must have given you pocket money, right?”

I wore a mocking expression, my gaze sweeping across Nathaniel and Marielle in the crowd, and said lightly, “Why don’t you ask them yourself? After all, you wouldn’t believe me, but you’d surely believe your parents.”

Nathaniel and Marielle froze, too ashamed to meet my eyes.

“Dad, Mom, you must have given her pocket money, right?” Julian looked at them earnestly.

Nathaniel’s eyes darted around nervously. “I thought you guys would give her some, so I just…”

Marielle’s guilt was evident; tears welled up in her eyes as she spoke tenderly, “I also thought you guys would… Aria, why didn’t you tell us you had no money? If you had told me earlier, I would have definitely given you some.”

“It’s all Mom’s fault. I didn’t notice sooner, which let you suffer, but you have to believe that I treat you and Evangeline equally.”