Taking Out the Trash

"It was all him! Go after him! I did not do anything!" Chloe shrieked. Her face pale with terror, she shoved Corbin aside and scrambled up the marble steps, fleeing into the grand house without looking back.

Corbin stood dumbfounded, staring at the empty space where his accomplice had just been. A rush of dark memories flooded Sloane’s mind. She remembered the freezing rain, his fake affection on her birthday, and the exact chilling tone of his voice right before he shoved her off a cliff to a watery grave. He had plotted with Chloe to seize her assets and leave her for dead. Now, facing her undeniable return and wrath, Corbin scrambled for a pathetic lifeline.

Corbin took a cautious step forward, molding his features into a desperate, pleading mask. "N-no. It is not me. It was Chloe. It was her idea from the start. I still love you, Sloane."

He was a fool. He actually thought she remained the naive, gullible girl from three years ago, the one who bought his passionate declarations outside her school.

Sloane scoffed in pure disgust. She let him take one more step. Before he could even lay a single finger on her clothes, she shifted her weight and delivered a brutal, unforgiving kick straight to his chest.

Caught unaware, Corbin flew backward. He slammed with brutal force into a stone garden pillar. A sickening crack echoed through the manicured courtyard as he collapsed onto the paving stones, clutching his ribs. Blood trickled down his forehead, dripping onto the pristine walkway. He writhed on the ground, screaming in sheer agony.

Sloane stepped closer. She looked down at him with dead, icy eyes, letting the silence stretch until his pathetic groans faded into desperate whimpers.

Sloane turned her back on him, addressing the two massive bodyguards flanking the gates. "Your good days are over, Corbin. Throw him out."

She had no intention of ending him today. She opted to draw out his suffering, peeling away his life piece by piece until nothing remained.

Inside Blossom Garden, utter chaos reigned as Sloane moved to reclaim her stolen territory. She wasted zero time. A hired professional cleaning crew swarmed the upper floors, ruthlessly clearing out her old room and her parents' master suite. Gideon and Chloe had taken over the spaces like parasites, filling them with their own lavish trash. Now, the workers tossed designer clothes, expensive trinkets, and custom shoes into black industrial sacks like common garbage. They showed zero mercy to the luxury items.

Chloe lunged at one of the workers, her manicured nails flashing as she tried to snatch back a pile of branded leather bags. "What are you doing? Are you insane? I have been living here! Stop! Get your filthy paws off my things!"

Sloane had exhausted her patience. She stepped forward, ripping a heavy silk curtain drape from the window rod. She grabbed a struggling Chloe by the shoulder, shoved her hard into a sturdy dining chair, and bound her torso and wrists tight against the wooden frame. Chloe thrashed wildly, trying to scream insults. Sloane reached into a nearby sack, pulled out a rolled-up sock, and forcefully stuffed it into Chloe's open mouth.

Before Chloe could spit it out, Sloane delivered a sharp, stinging slap across her cheek.

Chloe froze, her eyes wide with shock, sinking into total silence.

Sloane sat lazily on the plush velvet couch, crossing her legs and flipping through a stack of estate personnel files. She ignored the muffled, pathetic whimpers coming from the tied-up woman in the corner. "Be meticulous. Do not worry about damaging their garbage. I just want this place scrubbed clean."

The crew worked with precise efficiency. By evening, the two rooms were perfectly restored to their original state, every trace of the parasites eradicated.

The heavy oak doors downstairs swung open just as the sun set. Gideon stepped into the grand foyer, freezing in his tracks. He stared in sheer horror at his precious collection of antique vases and expensive oil paintings scattered haphazardly across the marble floor near the entrance. Some frames were chipped, piled up like unwanted junk.

Gideon gasped, clutching his chest. "Dear God, who did this?"

A freshly freed Chloe, her hair a tangled mess and her cheek still red, threw herself down the staircase into his arms. She pointed a shaking, resentful finger up toward the second-floor landing.

Chloe sobbed. "Dad, it is her! She threw everything out!"

Gideon snapped his gaze upward, fighting to mask the deep hostility burning in his eyes. He had coveted this estate for years, moving in the second Sloane was declared dead. Seeing her stand there now, exuding a dangerous aura, made his blood boil.

Gideon demanded. "What are you doing, Sloane?"

Sloane leaned lazily against the polished mahogany railing, looking down at them. "Helping you move out, of course. Uncle Gideon, did you forget whose house this is?"

Gideon clenched his jaw. He forced a stiff, practiced smile, attempting to play the family card on a niece he always thought was soft and easy to manipulate. "Sloane, we are family. I am the chairman of the company now, and I am used to living here. My routine..."

Sloane’s expression froze over. Her voice dropped to a chilling, calm pitch.

"Habits can be changed. Chairmen can also be replaced. If you want to retire early, Uncle Gideon, I can arrange it right now."