"Is it Ms. Bethany Salvador?"

In a foreign land, hearing her native language made Bethany slowly stop crying. She lifted her tear-soaked, swollen face.

The man before her was dressed impeccably in a suit but was completely unfamiliar to her.

"How do you know me?"

Bethany suddenly kneeled before him, devoid of dignity, clasping her hands together as she wept and pleaded, "Are you... Are you someone my father sent to help me? Please... Take me back to Savrow. I can't stay in this hellhole for another day! I'm sick-very sick! If I don't get treatment, I won't survive! How could my father abandon his own daughter to die?!"

The man remained expressionless. "I'm sorry, Ms. Salvador, but I'm not sent by your father."

Bethany slumped back down, her expression a mix of disappointment and despair.

"However, someone does want to see you."

With her mind too muddled to think clearly and consumed by hopelessness, Bethany followed the man to a luxurious car. As the car door opened, the first thing she saw was a pair of expensive silver satin high heels with delicate, pristine ankles.

Bethany glanced down at her own ragged clothes, feeling a wave of shame. She instinctively shrank back. Those high heels were from a brand she used to love. Now, she could only look on with envy. The man said gently, "Ms. Salvador, please get in the car."

Summoning her courage, Bethany climbed into the car.

The woman sitting elegantly inside was unexpectedly dressed in a white coat. Her delicate, smiling features exuded a warm, comforting presence. Bethany felt an instant surge of goodwill toward her. "Hello, Ms. Salvador, it's a pleasure to meet you," the woman said as she extended her hand politely.

As Bethany shook her hand, tears inexplicably welled up in her eyes and started streaming down her cheeks.

She had been bullied by her landlord and her thuggish neighbor, beaten down by the drastic change in her life and the sudden diagnosis of a terminal illness. After receiving this unexpected kindness, her emotions surged uncontrollably.

The woman quickly handed her a tissue, full of concern.

"Thank you..." Bethany said, wiping her nose. "May I ask who you are? How do you know me?"

The woman smiled slightly. "You can call me Ms. Gold. I'm also from Savrow."

"Gold...?"

Staring at her kind smile, Bethany sniffed. "I used to know someone really annoying with that last name. But you are much prettier and kinder than her."

"Is that so? What a coincidence."

The woman's smile deepened.

"When I was

Savrow, I knew of

you, Ms. Salvador. As the daughter of the Salvador family, you were quite the sensation. I was at the hospital for business today and saw you by chance. Seeing your current situation made me curious, so I followed you to learn more. As a fellow Savrow native, I want to help. you and do something for you."

The sincerity in her words made Bethany cry even harder.

2000 2010

Exhausted from crying, she clutched the tissue tightly and said with gritted teeth, "It's all because of my sister, that idiot, and my brother, Justin! They all protected that idiot and favored her, ganging up to bully me! Not only did they make me deaf, but they also caused me to contract AIDS! They're trying to drive me to death!"

The woman's brow furrowed. "AIDS? How did that happen?"

Finally replaceing someone to confide in, Bethany disregarded any semblance of dignity and poured out all her grievances. Her tears and snot were flowing freely.

The woman listened patiently and

then sighed in indignation. "Oh, they have wronged you so much. Regardless of everything, they are your blood relatives. How can they be so heartless and cruel? If I were you. I wouldn't let it go so easily. Even if I had to die, I'd take that sister of yours with me."

The woman's smile turned sinister. "Everything your brother has done is for your sister. Drag her into hell, and you'll have your most satisfying revenge."

Under such incitement, the dying flame of revenge in Bethany's heart blazed fiercely again. Her eyes turned red as she gasped furiously, filled with a burning desire for retribution.

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