004: Little Three's Little Scoundrel

Half an hour later.

The Black Phantom stopped at the entrance of Bordine University.

Amelia Clarke got out of the car, bowed towards Owen Moreland, who was sitting in the back seat with his eyes closed resting, and thanked him respectfully, "Thank you, Mr. Moreland."

She also said to Benjamin Richardson, "Thank you, Assistant Richardson."

Her manners were spot on.

Courteous yet distant.

Owen Moreland slowly opened his eyes, the light within them deep and somber, adding a few strokes of gravitas and severity to his already three-dimensional and elegant features.

"No need to thank me," his voice was also steady.

Amelia Clarke smiled, turned, and walked through the gate.

Upon entering the dormitory building and reaching the floor where her room was located, she turned the corner and bumped into someone.

"I'm sorry," she instinctively apologized, and then looked up, surprised.

It was Ciara Taylor, Isaac Taylor's daughter.

When Ciara Taylor saw that she had bumped into Amelia Clarke, her expression changed, filled with disgust, "I wondered who it was. It turns out to be the little bitch borne of a mistress."

"Sister, don't say that. Amelia is our cousin," said Sherry Taylor. Sherry and Ciara were fraternal twins, looking about eighty percent alike but with completely different personalities.

After hearing Sherry Taylor's words, Ciara Taylor snorted coldly, "Cousin? Her mother's surname is Zhou, our father's surname is Taylor. They don't even have a blood relation. What kind of cousin does that make her?"

"It's just that her mother, relying on some past relationship with our dad, acted pitiful for sympathy after being abandoned by her husband and stuck to our family, eating our food, wearing our clothes, using our stuff. Heh, a mistress's daughter is just another little mistress, pah! Shameless!"

"Sister, keep your voice down!" Sherry Taylor tugged at Ciara Taylor's sleeve. Family scandals should not be publicized. If someone heard this, wouldn't that be utterly embarrassing? "Uncle Taylor is still waiting for us downstairs; let's go quickly, don't keep him waiting."

The Uncle Taylor mentioned by Sherry Taylor was the Taylors' driver.

Ciara Taylor reluctantly allowed herself to be pulled along for a few steps and was about to brush past Amelia Clarke when she ground her teeth and cursed, "A family of vixens, pah!"

Amelia Clarke looked back at her indifferently, "What did you say?"

"Did I say something wrong? Your mother seduced my father, you seduced my boyfriend, the beam is crooked and the eaves are slanted; your mother has no shame, giving birth to you, a young one with no shame!"

Slap!

The crisp sound of a slap echoed unusually loudly in the quiet and empty corridor.

Ciara Taylor covered her face, her eyes full of disbelief and rage, "Amelia Clarke, you slut, how dare you hit me! I'm going to fight you!"

She rushed at Amelia Clarke like a madwoman, her teeth bared and claws out.

Amelia Clarke's eyes were steely as she stepped back and then stood still. As Ciara Taylor lunged at her, Amelia deftly sidestepped and, taking advantage of the momentum, kicked Ciara Taylor in the rear.

Behind her were the stairs.

"Ahh!" Ciara Taylor screamed as she tumbled down the staircase.

"Sister!" Sherry Taylor hurried down the stairs to help her up, "Sister, are you okay?"

Ciara Taylor's face was scraped, her nose was bleeding, and her delicate curls were in disarray; she was as disheveled as one could be.

Amelia Clarke looked down at Ciara Taylor with a mocking smile and walked away.

She was beautiful, carrying an innate sense of nobility, especially when looking down on someone with a cold face, like a lofty goddess. That look hurt Ciara Taylor even more, and she became so angry that her face turned blue. Holding her nose, she hopped in fury, cursing, "Amelia Clarke, you slut! Argh! You make me so angry! Slut!"

Passersby looked at Ciara Taylor with strange eyes, and Sherry Taylor quickly took out a tissue from her pocket to help her clean the blood from her nose, "Forget it, sister, why stoop to her level?"

Ciara Taylor pushed Sherry Taylor away, pointing at her nose, "Why do you always speak up for her? Have you forgotten how our mother was so upset by her mother that she cried secretly at night? Have you forgotten how she seduced William Smith, causing him to break up with me? And yet you still side with her, are you still my sister?"

Ciara Taylor's voice was shrill, audible throughout the entire dormitory building.

In the dorm room, Amelia Clarke leaned against the door, listening expressionlessly.

Rosy Mone and Mia Moreland's families were in Capital City, and they usually went home on the weekends. The Taylor sisters also went home in the past, but for some reason, they hadn't left today.

Viola Harris came out of the bathroom and rushed to the door, pulling Amelia Clarke aside and opened the door to curse in the direction of the staircase, "Ciara Taylor, how shameless can you TMD be? You say that Andrew Johnson broke up with you, but the man never was your boyfriend to begin with! It was you who shamelessly threw yourself at him, proclaiming everywhere that you were his girlfriend, when in fact he never gave a damn about you..."

"And your shameless dad, desperate to ingratiate himself with that widow and orphan..."

"Viola Harris, stop your bullshit!" Ciara Taylor charged forward, but was held back by Sherry Taylor.

Amelia Clarke also pulled Viola Harris back into the room and closed the door.

The outside clamor gradually subsided.

The mere sight of Amelia Clarke would set Ciara Taylor off, spewing whatever came to mind without any regard for propriety; even Viola Harris, an outsider, had learned quite a bit about their affairs.

There wasn't much time left until lights out, so Amelia Clarke took her pajamas and toiletries to the bathroom for a shower.

Viola Harris followed to the bathroom door but didn't enter. She heard the sound of rushing water inside. Once the water stopped, she spoke up, "I'm sorry, Amelia, I just heard her saying such nasty things, and I... I panicked..."

In a delayed realization, she also recognized that her shouting had essentially repeated those things all over again.

Amelia Clarke didn't care about that Andrew Johnson, but it seemed that she particularly disliked people bringing up Ciara Taylor's father.

Sometime later, Amelia Clarke emerged from inside, fresh from the shower like washed crystal grapes, sparkling and clear.

She took Viola Harris's hand and gave it two firm squeezes, smiling as she said, "Thank you, Viola."

She knew Viola cared for her.

Both coming from similar backgrounds of financial hardship, there was an unspoken kinship between them.

Viola knew Amelia must feel aggrieved inside, yet she still forced smiles. Suddenly feeling a twinge of emotion, Viola sniffed, flicked Amelia's forehead, and said, "Look at you, silly girl!"

With only the two of them in the dormitory, it felt very spacious.

They each lay down just as the lights went out.

Amelia, exhausted from the day, felt sleepiness overtake her almost as soon as her head hit the pillow.

In a state between sleeping and waking, she seemed to hear Viola's voice: "They say the heavens are fair, but why are some people born with everything while others with nothing? Amelia, do you think it's fair? We're not uglier than others, our studies are no worse than others, so why should we always be looked down upon by people?"

Amelia Clarke and Viola Harris, one known as Bordine University's innocent beauty and the other dubbed a top-grade beauty, and both academic overachievers were, paradoxically, both girls from poor families.

"Amelia, is it all because we're poor?"

"Amelia, do you ever wish to live the life of the rich?"

The last question jolted Amelia awake.

Viola had always been dissatisfied, unwilling to accept a life of poverty, often reading news about beauties marrying into wealth.

Amelia didn't think Viola was wrong; no one was content to be poor for life, and she herself was no exception.

"Of course, I do." She said, "That's why I'm working hard at part-time jobs, waiting for the day I become a millionaire."

Viola chuckled, "Such aspirations!"

Amelia's gaze inadvertently fell on the wardrobe door, where inside, there was a deep blue handkerchief that had dried.

She needed to find a chance to return it.

She bit her lip and closed her eyes without saying another word.

A night of peaceful sleep.