Chapter 1

"Isn't the Smith family pushing for this marriage arrangement?"

"A fool paired with another fool—isn't that a match made in heaven?"

"It's perfect—we can put her to good use and have her contribute something to our Spencer family."

Catherine Spencer listened to the recording through her headphones, her eyes cold as ice.

"Idiot! Idiot! Bastard with no parents!"

Several children surrounded her, with the boldest boy picking up a piece of dried cow dung and throwing it at Catherine.

Catherine tilted her head slightly.

The dung hit the mud wall behind her, crumbling into pieces.

"Haha, the idiot can dodge!"

The children burst into laughter, growing more unrestrained.

The leader became even more aggressive, reaching out to push Catherine.

Just as his hand was about to touch Catherine's frail shoulder, the situation changed dramatically.

Catherine, who had been silent until now, suddenly raised her foot and precisely kicked a foul-smelling manure bucket beside her.

The entire bucket of filth poured out, drenching the lead boy completely.

A putrid smell instantly filled the air.

The boy, soaked to the bone, stood frozen in shock before erupting into earth-shattering wails.

The other children were stunned, momentarily forgetting their mischief.

"Who dares bully my child?!"

An angry shout came from nearby as a stout woman charged toward them in fury.

Seeing her son covered in filth and Catherine standing nearby, she was instantly enraged.

"You little tramp! How dare you bully others!"

The woman rushed to Catherine in three quick strides, raising her hand to strike.

Catherine didn't flinch.

"Try touching me and see what happens."

The woman's raised hand froze midair, intimidated by the coldness in Catherine's eyes.

"If you can't control your children, don't blame others for doing it for you. I haven't even punished them properly, and you're already confronting me. Perhaps I should call the police now and have them examine my injuries. Let's see how society disciplines your child."

Catherine's tone was calm and steady, as if stating an established fact.

"Then nobody will come out of this happy."

The woman looked into Catherine's calm eyes and felt an inexplicable chill rise from within.

This was no idiot.

This was a demon.

"Call the police? Would they believe anything said by an idiot like you?!"

The woman, completely failing to notice Catherine's articulate speech, pointed at her nose and shouted, "You stupid waste of food! Killing you would be doing everyone a favor. The police wouldn't even care about you!"

"Oh?"

Catherine raised an eyebrow and suddenly flashed a grim smile before delivering a sharp slap across the woman's face.

"When mentally ill or intellectually disabled individuals cause harm while unable to recognize or control their actions, they bear no criminal responsibility. Which means if I slaughtered your entire family because you couldn't control your children or your mouth, you'd have nowhere to seek justice."

Her gaze was cold and emotionless, her tone frighteningly icy: "Would you like to test that theory?"

The woman, paralyzed by Catherine's chilling gaze, stumbled backward and stammered, "You—you're trying to scare who? Psycho... Come on, baby, let's—let's go home!"

Eventually, the woman reluctantly pulled away her still-crying son and led the other terrified children away, thoroughly humiliated.

Catherine watched their retreating figures, the coldness in her eyes gradually dissipating, replaced by a profound weariness.

She turned and silently walked toward her small cabin.

The sunset stretched her shadow long across the ground, lonely and desolate.

Behind a crooked tree not far away, an exceptionally handsome pair of eyes watched her quietly from behind sunglasses.

They followed until her figure disappeared behind the low courtyard wall.

"That poor, simple girl... Richard, when you pretend to be simple-minded at home, do those people treat you the same way?"

Nearby, a round-faced man in a black suit clicked his tongue as he watched the disheveled Catherine, instinctively glancing beside him.

A tall figure sat in a wheelchair, wearing sunglasses and leaning sideways, stretching lazily.

"How long do you plan to keep up this act? I heard the Smith family has been planning for you to marry the Spencer family's daughter to secure an heir soon."

Richard Smith pondered for a moment before replying: "No rush. The fish that should take the bait hasn't bitten yet."

The baby-faced man seemed to have more to say.

When he had learned years ago that his brilliant friend Richard had lost both legs and become simple-minded, he thought life was unfair. He never expected his childhood friend would secretly message him, saying he suspected someone in the family was trying to harm him and asking for help.

He marveled at Richard's meticulous thinking, even though he was not an adult then, but he felt even more sorry for him.

"Stop daydreaming, let's go."

Richard turned his wheelchair without looking back, heading down the narrow country path.

His wheelchair had been specially modified to adapt to various terrains, moving even more efficiently than ordinary legs.

"I must get back today, or people might become suspicious."

"So are you going to marry that Spencer family daughter or not?"

Their voices faded into the night breeze. Soon after, a black sedan suddenly stopped in front of the dilapidated cabin.

Oliver Spencer and Clara Jones stepped out, elegantly dressed, surveying the mud-brick house with undisguised disdain.

"Hmph, finally found this godforsaken place!"

Clara pinched her nose as if the air itself was permeated with an unbearable smell of poverty.

"Let's get that idiot and leave—I can't stand another second here."

Oliver also looked impatient: "It's all for the face of our Spencer family. If the Smith family were not pressing so urgently, I wouldn't have bothered making this trip."

Inside the house, Catherine naturally heard the commotion outside.

A curve flashed across her lips before she quickly resumed her simple-minded demeanor, tilting her head as she watched her "loved ones" enter.

"Oh, it's Daddy and Mommy!"

Catherine grinned, revealing a foolish smile with drool running down the corner of her mouth. "Did you bring candy for me?"

Clara, seeing her like this, felt even more disgusted but restrained herself from showing it, forcing a stiff smile: "Catherine, be good. Come back to the city with Mom and Dad. There's lots and lots of candy in the city."

"Go back?" Catherine blinked, as if not understanding. "I don't want to go. I want to stay with my grandma."

She clutched her rag doll tighter, her tone carrying a childlike stubbornness.

Oliver's patience was clearly not as great as Clara's. His brows furrowed as he said sternly, "Nonsense! How old is your grandmother now? How much longer can she take care of you? We've already made arrangements—once you're back in the city, we'll find you a good family to marry into. You'll have people waiting on you from then on!"

"Marriage?" Catherine tilted her head, mumbling incoherently, "What's marriage? Can I eat it?"

Oliver's temple throbbed with anger, but seeing her simple-minded appearance, he couldn't bring himself to truly lose his temper. He could only suppress his anger and say, "Anyway, this marriage is very important to our Spencer family. You must come back!"

He emphasized, "The Smith family—surely you've heard of them? We're talking about THE Smith family!"

The Smith family?

There didn't seem to be anyone suitable for her age in the Smith family. As she recalled, the old patriarch of the Smith family had three sons. The eldest son had already died, and the second son was now head of the family.

That old man's second son must be nearly fifty by now, right?

They couldn't possibly be marrying her to that middle-aged man?!