The Real Heiress Rules the World

Chapter 208 Pick a Fight

Boone's lips twitched. His voice cout dry and robotic, breaking into fragments. “N-No... don’t... know... no

enemies...”

Sloane's brow tightened. A flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes. She pulled the device away, and

in that instant, Boone slumped over. His body went limp, his eyes shut, and he collapsed lifelessly against the

wall.

She stood and glanced coldly at the man curled up on the floor. “Pathetic.”

Without another glance, Sloane turned and walked out. The heavy door groaned shut behind her with a deep,

echoing thud. The hallway was just as silent as before, her footsteps echoing through the empty space.

The director stood waiting at the end of the hall. When he saw her, he rushed over, his voice low and cautious.

“Ms. Rivers, you're... done already?”

Sloane shot him an icy look, her voice sharp and impatient. “Yeah. Keep Boone locked down. Don’t let anyone

from the Rivers family near him.”

The director let out a breath of relief and nodded eagerly. “Yes, ma’am! I'll make sure he’s under strict watch.”

Sloane didn’t bother responding. She walked off without a word, her steps firm and controlled-but her eyes had

darkened with thought.

If Boone didn’t know anything about her past, then chances were the rest of the Rivers family didn’t either. That

meant the truth was still buried-most likely with Marshall and Helen.

Sloane didn’t make it back to the house until dawn-and the first person she ran into was Wesley, waiting by the

front gate.

He was dressed in a crisp blue suit, car keys twirling between his fingers, clearly on his way out. When he saw

her walking in from the outside, he smirked.

“Well, well... if it isn’t the Rivers family’s golden girl. Out all night, huh? Spent the night partying with the rich

boys?”

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Sloane didn’t even blink. She shot him a cold glance and brushed past without a word.

Wesley's face darkened. He stepped in front of her, blocking her path, his voice laced with smugness. “What,

can’t even bother to look atnow? You think you're important? You're a ticking tbomb, and everyone

knows it. Just a reject who's going to get dumped sooner or later. You really think the Hawthornes are going to

marry you? Keep dreaming.”

Sloane stopped. Her stare turned ice-cold. Slowly, she turned to face him, her voice low and cutting. “Say that

again. | dare you.”

Wesley faltered under her stare but straightened up and sneered, “I said you're trash. What, mad now? Just

because Lucas agreed to an engagement doesn’t mean they're actually going to let you into their family.”

Her eyes flickered. Rage, sharp and sudden, shot through her. She was already on edge-and this idiot had just

pushed the wrong button.

In one swift move, she grabbed his wrist and twisted hard.

Crack.

Wesley screamed, collapsing to his knees, his face drained of all color.

“You... you broke my wrist!” He was drenched in sweat, his voice shaking, eyes wide in disbelief.

Sloane stared down at him with a mocking sneer. “And a useless little punk like you thinks he can talk down to

me?”

Right then, Helen crunning toward them. Her face turned white when she saw Wesley on the ground, his

wrist twisted at an unnatural angle.

She rushed forward, shoved Sloane aside, and dropped to her knees beside her son. Her voice was shrill with

panic. “Sloane! Are you insane? You actually laid hands on Wesley?”

Sloane didn’t move. She stared Helen down, calm and composed. “He disrespected

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me. | taught him smanners.”

“You... you ungrateful little brat!” Helen was trembling with rage, her finger shaking as she pointed it in Sloane's

face. “You're nothing but worthless! And you think you can act like this in my house? Somebody grab her-now!”

Servants swarmed in from all directions, surrounding Sloane. But none of them dared make the first move. Her

presence was too sharp, too dangerous.

Just then, Jason, the butler from Mathilda’s estate, rushed over and raised his voice. “By order of Madam

Mathilda-stand down. Everyone.”

Helen's face twisted with fury. She jabbed her finger toward Sloane. “Look at what she’s done! She broke

Wesley's wrist! We can’t let someone like her stay in this house!”

Jason glanced at Wesley's injury, frowned, and then turned to Sloane. “Ms. Rivers, that was out of line. Madam

Mathilda has always favored you, but even she has her limits.”

Sloane scoffed. “So what?”

Jason's face tightened, but he remained composed. “Wesley disrespected his sister and stirred up trouble. His

allowance is suspended for a month.”

Wesley rolled his eyes. He couldn't care less-he knew his parents would cover for him anyway.

Helen wasn't satisfied. “And what about Sloane? She assaulted her own brother! What's the punishment for

that?”

Jason continued, his tone calm but firm. “Ms. Rivers assaulted a member of the family. That kind of behavior is

unacceptable and won't be ignored.” He turned to Sloane. “You're grounded for three days. No leaving the

estate, no guests, no calls. Staff are under orders to restrict your movement.”

Wesley's face lit up with satisfaction. His wrist was still killing him, but he couldn’t help sneering. “Not so tough

now, huh? Let's see how you handle being locked in like a prisoner.”

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Sloane glanced around at the servants closing in, completely unimpressed. “House arrest? Isolation? And which

one of you thinks you're capable of enforcing that?”

Helen was practically shaking with rage. “You arrogant little brat! Jason, what are you waiting for? Get the staff

and lock her in her room!”

Jason frowned and was about to order the servants forward.

But Sloane moved first.

In a flash, she took them all down. Three, maybe four seconds-then the hallway echoed with groans.

“My leg! I think it's broken!”

“My eyes! | can’t see!”

Wesley, pale and trembling, scrambled behind Helen, terrified he was next.

Jason's face turned stiff with fury. “Ms. Rivers... you've crossed the line!”

Sloane turned on her heel and walked off, as if the chaos behind her didn't exist.

Helen stomped her foot in rage. “You get back here! You think you can just walk away? Madam Mathilda will deal

with you!”

But Sloane didn’t flinch. She didn’t even slow down. She headed straight for the Blackhawk Training Camp

without looking back.

When news reached Mathilda, her face went pale with anger. Her cane slammed into the floor. “She’s completely

out of control! Does she think there’s no one in this family who can deal with her?”

Jason stood nearby, his voice low and careful. “Ms. Rivers has crossed the line. Madam, you've always treated

her well... and this is how she repays you? If she marries into the Hawthorne family like this, she won't be

grateful—she’ll be dangerous.”

Mathilda let out a cold snort. Her eyes narrowed. “Whether she’s still a Rivers or

[e]

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not-that’s up to me. If she refuses to show respect, then she has no one to blbut herself.”

Jason lowered his head, but a glint of something dark flickered in his eyes.

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