The Psychotic Girl’s Revenge

That night, since Paige’s injuries had only just begun to heal, Enrico refrained from acting recklessly. He was extremely gentle, afraid even his kisses might hurt her.

The result of being too gentle was that Paige fell into a deep sleep, while Enrico had to step into the bathroom, taking two cold showers. He held her close all night, sleepless until dawn.

…

Over the next few days, Enrico would quietly enter the new Rose Estate without a sound and leave just as stealthily. Whether it was due to having someone by her side or not, Paige’s sleep improved significantly. However, Enrico’s dark circles only seemed to worsen with each passing night.

The news about the grand finance summit dominated all media outlets, with multiple countries following and reporting on the event.

On the streets and in alleyways of Country A, every TV and LED screen broadcasted news of the summit. Experts analyzed who the next president might be and what Enrico’s return meant for the future of the summit.

The capital was under tight security. Police were stationed at every corner, and there wasn’t even a speck of dust on the trash cans. The whole city became unusually pristine.

Amidst this heightened atmosphere, the grand finance summit finally commenced.

The summit was scheduled to officially begin at 6 PM, but an explosive piece of news rocked the entire nation just one hour prior.

**”Slum Fugitive Paige Faked Death Three Years Ago and Has Reappeared.”**

**”A Death Row Inmate’s Escape Raises Suspicions of a Political Scandal in Country A.”**

**”Paige Sighted in River Town, Possibly Connected to Terrorist Incidents.”**

Paige saw the news while she was quietly playing chess in the Rose Estate, this time opting for Go. She had set up a challenging board and was contemplating her next move when her phone suddenly buzzed incessantly.

Picking up her phone, she glanced at the screen, noticing that her name had become a trending topic on all platforms.

She clicked on one of the articles and saw several photos of herself-pictures taken in River Town on the day of the incident. It was likely that her former mentor, Jasper, had arranged for the photos to be taken and handed them over to Rachel.

Though she had worn a disguise, a careful comparison with older photos made it clear that she was the same person. This revelation startled the public of Country A.

“Sister Paige-”

Nick, wearing his black-framed glasses, entered with Carrie and a few members of Peak Club, gathering around her. Seeing her holding her phone, they remained silent.

It seemed they had all seen the news.

“I thought Rachel would wait until the finance summit to strike, but I didn’t expect her to act so quickly. The news went viral on international platforms before spreading domestically. Suppressing it now won’t be effective,” Nick said gravely.

Paige wasn’t surprised. “It would have been too late if she waited until the summit. By releasing the news just an hour before the event, she caught everyone off guard, maximizing panic.”

Her survival affected more than just herself. It implicated Rafael, the nine members of Peak Club, major financial clans, and the ongoing conflicts between the slums and the upper echelons of society.

Rachel’s timing was impeccable-just like three years ago-gathering evidence in secret before choosing the most opportune moment to reveal it, aiming to finish her off with one decisive blow.

“And what about tonight’s finance summit…?” Carrie asked worriedly.

“Tonight’s finance summit is going to be very eventful,” Paige replied with a smile, seemingly unbothered. Suddenly, she thought of something and sent Enrico a message.

“Sister Paige is discussing strategies with brother-in-law?” Cynthia asked.

“No, I just thought that the tie with the subtle pattern would suit him better for tonight’s summit,” Paige said lightly. “He’s attending too.”

The group fell silent.

The enemy was practically at the door, and yet Paige was calmly considering a tie? Three years ago, this exposure had nearly sent her to Gangnam Hall. Now history was repeating itself, but she seemed unfazed.

After sending the message, Paige looked up at her companions, who all stood there with serious, anxious expressions. She said calmly, “If you have nothing else to do, how about playing chess with me?”

“Sister Paige, if Rachel wins tonight at the finance summit…” Carrie began nervously.This content © 2024 NôvelDrama.Org.

“She couldn’t kill me three years ago, and she won’t be able to now either,” Paige said confidently as she placed a white stone on the board, her gaze composed and steady.

Cynthia, who knew a bit about Go, glanced down at the board. She saw that the white stones had been surrounded with no escape, yet the move Paige had just made miraculously turned the situation around.

…

In just one hour, the news of Paige’s survival continued to spread like wildfire. Her past crimes were once again dredged up-murder, spreading disease, all serious offenses.

The towering official building hosting the finance summit stood in a relatively quiet area, but at this moment, it was packed with people, as if overflowing with a sea of humanity.

A red carpet extended from the entrance of the building, down the stone steps, to the distant gate. Security was tight on either side of the carpet.

Beyond the security lines, crowds of civilians and media personnel gathered, many holding up signs that read:

**”Expose the Political Scandal! Reveal the Truth About the Fake Death!”**

With the finance summit coinciding with such explosive news, it was impossible for the event not to make waves.

At the appointed time, security formed a human wall, allowing sleek cars to roll in one by one as prominent figures arrived for the summit.

The media, armed with cameras and microphones, swarmed in, bombarding each attendee with the same question:

“Have you seen the news about the slum fugitive faking her death? What are your thoughts?”

With the news only an hour old, many of these high-profile figures were caught off-guard and avoided answering, quickly walking the red carpet and heading toward the grand building under the protection of security, hoping no reporters would follow.

Amidst the commotion, the distinct sound of a police siren rang out. A shout arose from the crowd: “The president has arrived!” Reporters rushed to the front, nearly breaching the human barrier of security.

A long limousine came to a stop at the foot of the red carpet.

As dusk settled in, a butler in a tailcoat stepped out, respectfully opening the car door. Rafael emerged, bending slightly as he exited.

Despite the chilly weather, Rafael wore only a crisp shirt, with his suit jacket draped over his arm. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses sat on his nose, giving him an air of composed elegance.

“Mr. President! Mr. President!”

One reporter pushed a microphone forward, shouting, “Have you seen the news about the slum fugitive faking her death? Wasn’t it the presidential office that declared her dead? Now that she’s alive, do you have anything to say?”

“What role did you play in this? Why did you let a death row inmate escape?”

“Do you think this is part of a conspiracy against you? Will this affect your chances of re-election?”