CHAPTER 181: THE ECHO AFTER THE LIE

Ava narrated everything that had happened to Lisa and Denovan, her voice rising and falling with the intensity of each moment.

At first, their expressions were tight with concern, their brows drawn together as they sat forward in their seats.

But as the story unfolded—Julie’s fierce expression, Abigail’s shock, the slap that echoed through the room—something in the atmosphere shifted.

Slowly, the tension melted off their faces, replaced by widening smiles that grew brighter with every detail Ava revealed.

By the time she reached the part where Abigail tried to raise her hand and Julie caught it mid-air, both Lisa and

Denovan were smiling ear to ear, their eyes sparkling with a strange mix of pride and vindication.

"That’s excellent!" Lisa exclaimed, her voice bursting with so much excitement that it bounced off the walls.

She clapped her hands together loudly—once, then twice, then again—unable to contain how satisfied she felt.

Her cheeks lifted, her eyes narrowed with joy, and her body visibly relaxed through a deep, relieved breath.

"Julie is dangerous," Denovan murmured, though not with fear—rather with admiration.

His tone carried the awe of someone who had just discovered a rare gem hidden in plain sight.

From the side, Azazel sat quietly, though his body betrayed him.

His head bobbed up and down nonstop, each nod full of disbelief and amazement.

His mouth was slightly parted, like he couldn’t find the right words fast enough to match what he was feeling.

"Sister-in-law is indeed amazing," Azazel finally said, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

He leaned back in his seat, arms crossed, nodding with the confidence of someone who knew exactly how capable Julie could be.

After all, he’d seen Roman train her, guide her, protect her. He’d heard the stories.

But seeing her act on her own—decisive, fearless, and sharp—made pride rise in his chest like a flame.

"Yes, she did well," Ava agreed, shaking her head with a soft, breathy laugh.

"When I first saw the expression on her face... I swear, chills ran down my spine." She held her arms out dramatically as if trying to show them the goosebumps that moment still gave her.

Her laughter rang through the parlour—bright, girlish, a sound filled with lingering adrenaline—and before she even finished, Lisa, Denovan, and Azazel burst into warm, full chuckles.

Their amusement mixed together until the entire room felt lighter, airier, almost sparkling with relief.

For a brief second, Ava blinked, taken aback by their sudden burst of laughter.

But the surprise melted into a smile that dimmed her eyes warmly, and she joined them fully—her laughter blending naturally with theirs.

In that moment, the tension that had towered over them earlier dissolved completely.

The fear, the uncertainty, the pressure of everything happening around the mansion—it all loosened its grip.

Julie’s actions had done more than protect Roman or defend herself.

She had given these people something they desperately needed:

relief, pride, and the reassurance that she wasn’t someone who would break when pressure came.

And as their laughter finally softened into lingering smiles, none of them missed the unspoken truth hanging warmly in the air—

Julie was no longer just someone Roman loved.

Meanwhile, in another part of the city, a completely different world from the laughter and relief in the mansion, Rachel and her mother, Cassandra, sat stiffly inside a taxi heading toward the prison.

The atmosphere inside the car was heavy—thick enough to make breathing feel difficult.

The streets outside moved past them in blurry streaks, but neither woman looked out the window to admire anything.

Their minds were elsewhere, locked in a place filled with loss, humiliation, and anger.

Rachel clutched her hands tightly in her lap, her nails digging into her palms as she spoke.

"Mom... do you think they’ll be happy about what you’re planning to demand from him?" Her voice was quiet, almost flat, but underneath it trembled a layer of fear and exhaustion.

They no longer had a home.

No mansion.

No company.

No cars.

Everything had been taken—stripped away piece by piece until nothing remained except the clothes they had left on their backs and the little that Cassandra managed to salvage.

And all of it... because of Logan.

Cassandra’s face tightened, her lips pressed thin as she stared through the window, her reflection looking older and harsher than it used to.

"It’s left for him," she said finally, her voice sharp with bitterness.

"Even if he doesn’t want to agree, he must. I’m tired, Rachel. I can’t keep living like this. It’s been months..."

Her hands trembled slightly as she clenched the edge of her handbag.

Once, that bag was filled with expensive perfumes, wallets stuffed with money, credit cards that never failed.

Now it was empty—just like their lives had become.

"All that’s left for us is that tiny, suffocating room we managed to rent," Cassandra continued, her voice turning almost cold.

"And soon we won’t even have that. You know we don’t have the money to pay for next month."

Rachel nodded silently. She knew. She knew too well.

She knew the landlord had threatened them twice already. She knew the cracks on the wall where they slept.

She knew the smell of dampness and poverty that now clung to their clothes.

"Yes, Mom... I know. But what do you want me to do? No company will accept me. When I go for interviews, they look at me like I’m a disease."

Cassandra turned her head sharply toward her daughter, her eyes stripped of the warmth they once held.

"Then sell yourself if you must. At least then you’ll bring money home. I won’t stay poor after being rich for so many years."

Rachel’s breath hitched, her chest tightening painfully. But she didn’t argue.

She didn’t shout or fight back. Instead, she closed her eyes, swallowed the ache crawling up her throat, and exhaled slowly.

Her mother no longer treated her like a daughter—

but like a tool.

A source of income.

A burden to push.

Ever since Lewis was taken to prison, Cassandra had changed.

All the pampering, the affection, the motherly pride—it vanished overnight, replaced with greed, pressure, and frustration.

Rachel was no longer someone to protect; she was someone to use.

"Stop the car," Rachel suddenly said.

Cassandra barely glanced at her. "What are you doing now?" she asked, her tone still sharp, still void of softness.

"I’ll go find a job," Rachel whispered.

The car pulled over, and Rachel stepped out without another word.

Cassandra, however, leaned slightly toward the window and said, "You’re free to go, but make sure you make some money.

With how beautiful you are, I’m sure men won’t say no."

Then the driver pulled away.

Rachel stood there on the roadside, motionless, her heart numb and heavy.

The world around her felt too loud, too bright, too overwhelming.

"Hm..." she breathed out, a weak sound escaping her lips as she walked toward a small park nearby.

She sat under a large tree, its shadow hiding her from the people passing by.

Memories of their life months ago played in her mind—

the wealth, the luxury, the parties, her expensive perfume, her father’s influence...

Rachel sat under the large tree, its shadow stretching over her like a blanket meant to hide all the shame, confusion, and pain clawing inside her chest.

For a moment, the noise of the busy street felt far away, like she was trapped inside a quiet bubble where only her thoughts could reach her.

"It wasn’t like this..." she whispered again, voice trembling as the memories pressed harder against her heart.

Just months ago, she walked the world with confidence—head high, chin sharp, steps light and proud.

Cameras flashed for her. Friends praised her. Luxury wrapped around her like a second skin.

But now?

The hoodie she wore smelled faintly of dampness from their tiny rented room.

Her shoes were worn out, her nails chipped, her face pale from weeks of stress and hunger.

A heavy tear fell onto her lap, followed by another, and soon they came like rain—quiet, but full of sorrow.

She closed her eyes and remembered that terrible day so clearly.

It had carved itself into her memory the way deep wounds carve themselves into skin.

She had been running—running fast, down a narrow street, hood pulled over her head so no one would recognize her.

Reporters were everywhere at the time; their father’s arrest had turned the city upside down.

The Thompson name used to be respected, but now it had become a stain people avoided touching.

Rachel remembered the flashes of cameras, the mocking voices, the questions thrown like stones.

"Is it true your father stole company funds?"

"Rachel, how does it feel to lose everything overnight?"

"Your fiancé left you too—do you have anything left at all?"

She ran.

And ran.

And ran.

Because she had no answers.

Under the tree now, she swallowed a sob as a shaky breath escaped her.

The memory tightened around her chest like a fist made of cold iron.

Her phone had buzzed then—she remembered that too.

Cassandra’s message came through like a final blow:

"Don’t come home without money. We need it."

Even then, even on the first day their lives collapsed, Cassandra didn’t think of comfort—only survival. Only money. Only what Rachel could bring to her.

Rachel wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, staring at the ground as if the sand and pebbles could tell her something she didn’t already know.

She drew in a deep breath, and the air felt thick, heavy with dust, heat, and her own exhaustion.

She hugged her knees closer to her chest.

Her lips trembled.

Her vision blurred with tears again.

"Why... why did everything fall apart?" she whispered, her voice cracked and thin.

The world around her continued moving—cars honking, people laughing, motorcycles passing—but inside her, everything felt still and broken.

Her mother’s harsh words from earlier replayed in her head like a cruel echo:

"Even if you have to sell yourself... bring money home."

Rachel pressed her forehead against her knees, her shoulders shaking. She felt alone—completely and utterly alone.

No one to lean on. No one to rely on. No warmth from family. No comfort from friends.

They had all disappeared the moment her wealth did.

In that moment, under that tree, Rachel finally understood the true depth of their fall.

It wasn’t just money they lost.

It was dignity.

Respect.

Safety.

Everything.

And now she sat in the shade of a tree, crying quietly as she thought about the life that once belonged to her—

a life that now felt like it belonged to someone else.