Mr. Vagrant & Ms. No Money

"I didn't leak any of the family's business secrets. The massive losses of the company have nothing to do with me; it was her!" Isabella's eyes were slightly red as she defiantly stared at her father, Carlos, her fingers pointing at her stepmother, Regina.

She had heard with her own ears how her stepmother colluded with an insider to embezzle ninety million from the family business. But before she could report it, her stepmother preemptively accused her, framing her for the crime. But she had no evidence, and her father didn't believe her at all.

Now, she just wanted to gamble with her fate. Would her father choose to believe her, considering their father-daughter relationship all these years?

But...

‘Smack!’

Father's slap came down hard, causing Isabella to fall to the ground. Half of her cheek immediately swelled high and red, with a trickle of blood at the corner of her mouth.

"Get out, just get out of here! The Riveras don't have a daughter like you!" Carlos pointed angrily towards the door, roaring, his veins bulging on his forehead.

Regina, the stepmother, walked over gracefully, soothing her father's heaving chest with a gentle smile. "Don't ruin your health over this. Isabella is still young and naive. Don't bother with childish matters."

Carlos was furious. "Young? She's 19 already! You spoil her too much. She almost caused our Rivera Corporation to collapse, and now she accuses you!"

Spoil her?

Isabella coldly chuckled at her stepmother's hypocritical and despicable face.

She knew Regina's goal was to make her father hate and despise her, to thoroughly disappoint him, and to push her out of the Riveras. This would allow her stepbrother and stepsister to openly inherit all of the Riveras' wealth.

Her stepsister Cynthia, who had always watched from the sidelines, smirked with schadenfreude, changing her demeanor, timidly grasping her father's hand, pleading with a worried expression. "Dad, please don't be angry. It's my fault for not stopping Isabella earlier. Otherwise, that incident wouldn't have become public knowledge. But she's still your daughter and my sister. Can't you forgive her and let her stay?"

Carlos shook his head. "Cynthia, you're too forgiving. Every time she messes up, you cover for her. She needs to face the consequences of her actions!"

Isabella glanced at her stepsister's fake expression and shivered.

Cynthia was referring to the scandalous photos of Isabella with several men in a hotel that had made headlines. It was Cynthia who had tricked her into going to the hotel, taken and manipulated the photos in secret, and leaked them to the media. This tarnished Isabella's reputation, brought disgrace to the Riveras, and enraged their father, who believed the photos were genuine. Yet, Cynthia managed to evade any blame for the incident.

The sickening act put on by this mother-daughter duo made Isabella feel nauseous.

Isabella rose to her feet, her eyes burning with anger as she stared at her stepmother and stepsister. "Stop pretending. Remember, what goes around comes around. The burden you placed on me, which led to my mother's death, I will repay it to you sooner or later."

Despite her delicate appearance, her voice carried an undeniable sense of menace. Her stepmother and stepsister trembled inexplicably.

Then, she turned to her father, her tone icy. "Dad, I pity you for marrying such a conniving woman."

Her words only fueled Carlos's rage. "You show no remorse. Your mother and sister have been defending you all along, yet you curse them."

With a burst of fury, Carlos lunged forward, grabbing Isabella and dragging her toward the door. "You've brought shame upon this family, nearly bankrupting Rivera Corporation. From this moment on, I disown you. You are no longer my daughter, and you are forbidden from ever mentioning the Riveras again! Get out!"

Bang!

The heavy gates slammed shut.

Isabella stood alone in the raging storm, wiping blood from her lips. The darkness of the night seemed to swallow her whole.

She lifted her face, letting the rain wash over her swollen cheeks.

"Don't cry, Isabella," she whispered, fighting back tears. "One day, the truth will come out, and those who have wronged me will face their reckoning."

She gazed into the endless downpour, thinking of the old house left to her by her deceased grandmother. It was her only sanctuary now.

...

In the suburbs, after stepping out of the car, Isabella hurried toward the dilapidated old house before her.

This was the place where her grandmother had given her a warm childhood, shielding her from misery.

Ouch!

Suddenly stumbling, she was tripped by something underfoot, losing her balance and plunging heavily into the muddy water on the ground.

It hurt!

Grimacing, she rubbed her knee and sat up, instinctively turning back to see what had caused her fall.

At first glance, it seemed harmless, but upon closer inspection, she was immediately frightened and let out a loud scream.

What had tripped her wasn't something, but someone lying on the ground.

"Oh my god, is he dead?" Isabella's hair stood on end as she cautiously crawled closer, her heart racing. But the person moved slightly, and his long, cold fingers grasped her ankle firmly. "Don't leave... help me..."

It was a young man's voice, deep and magnetic, with a slight huskiness, akin to notes flowing from a cello.

Strangely upon hearing this voice, Isabella felt her panicked heartbeats gradually calm down. She carefully examined the man lying on the ground. He was drenched all over, covered in mud, and his pants were dark, seemingly stained with blood.

Glancing around, there was only the endless curtain of rain.

Her grandmother’s house was in a remote suburb, so how did this person end up here alone?

Isabella had no choice but to take out her phone and dial emergency services.

"Hello, emergency center?" Before she could finish her sentence, the man suddenly knocked her phone forcefully into the muddy water.

Isabella was stunned, quickly retrieving it, only to find the screen had turned black.

She yelled in frustration, "What are you doing?!"

"I won't go to the hospital." The man's voice was low, his tone icy.

Annoyed and helpless, Isabella retorted, "You're injured, but you refuse to go to the hospital? In this heavy rain, are you just going to lie here at my doorstep?"

"Then take me to your home." The man's tone was decisive, with an intimidating force that brooked no argument.

Isabella bit her lip. His bleeding leg must be genuinely injured. In such a heavy storm, leaving him here would practically be condemning even a healthy person to half-death.

If tomorrow morning, there was a dead body lying at her doorstep...

Thinking about this scenario, Isabella's heart wrenched. She couldn't just watch him die at her doorstep.

Forget it, she surrendered. Let's just bring him home first.

Reluctantly, Isabella helped him up.

The man staggered to prop himself up, his long arm resting on Isabella's shoulder.

She found him really tall. Her slender figure was almost engulfed by him, her shoulder colliding with his solid chest, a faint, refreshing coldness entering her nostrils, pleasant to smell.

***