Blurb：
In the elite world of socialites and heirs, Skylar Johnson is notoriously dubbed the “Ugly Shrew,” feared for her powerful parents and feared by all—including her fiancé, Chase Sullivan. But when Amelia Ross, the true heiress switched at birth, returns with principles and resilience, she challenges Skylar’s reign. After public humiliations and sneers, Skylar turns the tables, only to have Chase explode, revealing his long-hidden disgust for her birthmark and temper. As whispers of their breakup swirl, Skylar fires back with venomous wit, exposing Chase’s mediocrity and her own hidden strength. Will Skylar succumb to the insults, or will she rewrite her story in a world obsessed with appearances? Dive into this gripping tale of revenge, betrayal, and the ugly truth behind high society.
Content：
I was notoriously known in our social circle as the Ugly Shrew.
Thanks to my fiercely overprotective parents, all the young socialites and heirs have no choice but to kiss up to me..
That was, until a resilient, principled true heiress emerged in our midst.
When I felt lightheaded and asked my fiancé, Chase Sullivan, to get me a piece of cake, she publicly denounced me:
“Ms. Johnson, you have hands and feet! Who are you to order people around? There are no slaves, nor slave masters, in this modern era!”
When I sprained my wrist and had my brother open a water bottle for me, she sneered:
“A parasite who only knows how to rely on others! What an embarrassment to modern women!”
Later, I gave her a taste of her own medicine.
When she fractured her foot and needed help walking, I dripped sarcasm:
“Oh~ The resilient modern woman needs to lean on others too, does she?”
Unexpectedly, the target herself didn’t snap, but my fiancé flipped out:
“Skylar Johnson! With your constant snide remarks, is it any wonder everyone can’t stand you!”
People around us gasped sharply.
“Holy crap, has Chase lost his mind? Isn’t he afraid Skylar will tattle and Mr. Johnson will have his head?”
“I always said these two would break up eventually. Skylar’s so plain-looking, with that awful temper. Standing next to her, Chase looks like a trophy husband..”
“Honestly, what I really wonder is if Chase gags when he has to kiss Skylar…”
Snickers and whispers buzzed around me.
My face darkened by the second.
Chase looked tense. He’d blurted out those words without thinking, and regret was already dawning on his face.
“You—”
“Chase!”
Before he could explain, Amelia Ross – the true Ross heiress who’d been switched at birth and recently returned – spoke up, her voice thick with emotion:
“I thought everyone in this circle just mindlessly followed the herd, fawning over useless trust fund parasites.”
“But now I see, you’re different.”
Her face was full of gratitude, her eyes soft and meaningful.
Paired with her sweet, innocent looks, Chase’s expression hardened again.
He glared coldly at me, his tone commanding:
“Skylar, apologize to Amelia.”
I was so baffled I almost laughed.
“You wish?”
Chase looked stunned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, who the hell do you think you are, ordering me around?”
“Where does your confidence even come from? Did someone sell you a lie about your charm?”
My words were venomous. “Have I been too nice? Did it make you think you actually matter?”
“You’re mediocre and troublesome. If you’re so bored, why don’t you go find a real job? I hear they’re always hiring at the sewage treatment plant”
I fired indiscriminately.
Chase’s face turned a kaleidoscope of furious colors, quite a sight.
He took a deep breath and blurted out what was clearly his deepest, truest thought:
“I’m mediocre? Maybe you should look in a mirror! That birthmark on your face looks like a baboon’s backside, and your temper is worse than a cornered badger!”
“I’ve put up with your crap countless times since we were kids. Did you really think I’d just take it forever?!”
Chase and I were childhood sweethearts. He knew exactly what words would wound me.
I was born with a large, reddish birthmark.
It covers most of my right cheek, irregularly shaped and, by conventional standards, unattractive.
Though, ignoring that mark, just looking at my other profile, I’m actually quite pretty.
Honestly, with a congenital birthmark like that, surgery at birth could have minimized its impact later.
But when I was born, my family was poor. We had neither the money nor the connections for such a procedure.
For my sake, my parents started hustling – working multiple jobs, chasing opportunities, trying to build something.
With no time to care for me, they sent me to live with Grandma in the countryside.
I was six.
Within days, I learned Grandma was affectionately known as the “battle-axe granny” because if even one cucumber went missing from her garden, she’d curse from one end of the village to the other.
Her curses were creative, vivid, and anatomically precise.
She’d rage until the thief confessed, then she’d tear into them right there.
Of course, Grandma always won. Not only that, the thief would cough up fifty bucks for her “emotional distress.”
After that, Grandma’s fierce image was seared into my mind.
Even the nickname felt like a badge of honor.
I practiced diligently. When classmates again mocked my “baboon’s backside” face, I mimicked Grandma’s style – a mighty hork and spit, right in their faces.
Hands on hips, I unleashed: “Listen up, you two-bit punk, you yak so much I thought a donkey brayed. Face like a sack of potatoes, neck thick as a stump – reincarnated fence post, weren’t ya?”
“And your folks? What useless sacks spawned a maggot like you? Don’t it eat you up inside? Lemme tell ya a secret – your ma and pa never wanted ya! Scram on home, quick! Bet they’re cookin’ up your replacement right now!”
I’d stolen all these insults from Granny. I didn’t fully understand them, but they felt powerfully effective.
Proud as a victorious general, I turned to head home… and slammed straight into my tearful parents.
Mom was sobbing, crushing me in a hug.
“We’re taking her! If she stays here any longer, she’ll be ruined!”
Back then, I didn’t really get why they were so upset.
Though I desperately wanted to stay, they took me away.
They’d saved some money and planned treatment for my birthmark.
But I refused.
The doctor said he’d cut out the marked skin and stitch the remaining skin together. It sounded agonizing.
So I threw a tantrum, lying on the floor, kicking and screaming, absolutely refusing.
I even channeled Grandma, telling them sagely:
“If someone won’t play with me or calls me names ’cause of this mark, they ain’t worth being friends with.”
“This mark’s a friend-filter! I’m not going to the hospital! You said you had a business idea, right? Use the money for that!”
I’d overheard them.
They had a golden opportunity, but the funds were tight. Surgery or investment – only one choice.
My argument was mostly fear of pain.
But my parents misunderstood. They hugged me, crying, choking up:
“Sweetie, you’re so brave, so wise. Mom and Dad will work hard to make a better life for you.”
From then on, they worked like beasts of burden, dawn till dusk.
Within a few years, we lived in a mansion. I had a chauffeur for school and a top-tier chef at home..
That same year, I met Chase Sullivan next door.
He was the middle child – an older sister, a younger brother.
Stuck in the middle, quiet and withdrawn, he was practically invisible.
He was unloved at home and bullied at school.
My sense of justice flared. I deployed Granny’s signature methods, fake-spitting on half the class and verbally eviscerating the other half until they cried.
After that, Chase and I became best friends.
If I saw him bullied, I’d charge in protectively.
And he’d rush to fight anyone who called me a “baboon’s backside.”
My parents saw his sincerity and quickly arranged our engagement.
They even gave significant concessions to the Sullivans, transforming Chase from the ignored middle child to the family’s golden boy overnight.
From age twelve to twenty-two.
I became the fiery-tempered “Ugly Shrew,” feared by all.
He grew more handsome, gradually becoming the “Prince Charming” of our social set.
People praised his gentle, kind nature.
I was smug. After all, a man is a woman’s trophy! His praise reflected on me!
So for ten years, I believed our bond was unbreakable.
Who knew he’d become one of the “baboon’s backside” callers.
I stared deeply at the handsome man before me, still defiantly demanding an apology.
A very faint, cold laugh escaped my lips.
Before his confused look could register, I snatched a nearby cake and smashed it squarely into his face.
“Chase Sullivan, we’re through.”
With a roar, I lunged forward, grabbing a fistful of his hair.
I slapped his face and kicked his shins.
“You finally said it! You always thought my face was a baboon’s backside, didn’t you?!”
“All these years, were you just lying to me, using me, making me the attack dog?!”
I was furious. The mere possibility made me want to tear him apart!
So I did.
I sank my teeth into his cheek.
“Ahhh!”
A blood-curdling scream echoed through the ballroom.
Chaos erupted.
Some tried to pull us apart, others quickly pulled out their phones to record.
I seized the moment, clawed viciously at someone who’d badmouthed me earlier.
Finally, we all ended up in the police station.
—
All twenty-something of us were cooling our heels at the station.
I got bailed out first.
My doting dad tenderly held my reddened hand. “Sweetheart, does it hurt? Next time, Daddy will get you gloves, okay?”
“That way, when you punch someone, your hand won’t sting.”
The cop looked exasperated but couldn’t interfere. He coughed pointedly, summarizing:
“…Perhaps employ more civilized methods of disciplining your child”
Dad selectively deaf, kept cooing to me.
I pressed my lips tight, still fuming.
My sharp gaze swept over the group of hangdog faces.
Finally, it landed on the two guys who’d insulted me.
Slowly, deliberately, I said:
“This isn’t over.”
Dad backed me up instantly, glaring daggers at them. “This ain’t over!”
Back home, I immediately announced my split from Chase on all my socials.
Mom sat beside me, hugging my shoulders:
“Sweetheart, Chase is just one guy. Don’t be sad. Mom will find you someone tall, handsome, with great abs.”
“And tell me, who else insulted you today? Mom will terminate our collaborations with their families!”
It had always been like this.
If I got bullied, my parents would find a way to get justice for me, crushing anyone who crossed me.
That’s why the young elite never dared insult me to my face, only gossiped behind my back.
Facing Mom’s anger, I shook my head.
“Mom, not this time. I don’t want your help.”
“I want to handle it myself.”
Dad agreed instantly: “Good! Skylar’s grown up, can stand on her own. Skylar, any help you need, just tell us. Mom and Dad are your bedrock.”
I lowered my head, fighting back tears.
Just as I was moved, my brother Liam Johnson rolled his eyes. “Seriously, Sis? Landing Chase was the best you could hope for.”
“You throw it away and break off the engagement? Ever look in the mirror at that mug?”
The last bit was muttered, but we all heard it.
Since meeting Amelia, his attitude toward me had shifted.
Mirroring hers.
Ask him for water? He’d snipe: “Yeah, some people, spoiled rotten because of a birth defect, think they can order others around like their hands are broken.”
“Treating folks like dirt, think they’re royalty? Hmph.”
Even after I stopped asking, he’d still mock my looks.
I put down my phone, rolled up my sleeves, ready to throw down. But Dad beat me to it, slapping Liam hard.
His tone was icy, commanding: “Apologize to your sister!”
I sat back down, flashing a triumphant smirk.
Liam went bright red, shrieking hysterically:
“Dad! You hit me! You hit me for that?!”
“I’m leaving! Running away!”
He stormed toward the door.
Mom brushed him off: “If you leave, don’t bother coming back.”
Liam didn’t stop, just veered upstairs.
Seeing this, Dad got even angrier, tried to go after him. I stopped him.
“Dad, forget it.”
I wasn’t being kind. I added: “Educate him later.”
“Help me find a clinic first. I want laser surgery to remove this birthmark.”
Actually, with medical technology becoming more advanced, I had thought about removing the birthmark before.
But honestly? I’d never really cared much about the mark. Plus, my childhood tantrum excuse – using it to “test hearts” – felt embarrassing to backtrack on.
And my parents? Whether truly convinced or protecting my feelings, never mentioned surgery again.
They had money and power; with them, no one bullied me.
But after this, I saw the light.
“Testing hearts” with my birthmark? Bull!
People are shallow!
Otherwise, Chase, who “passed the test,” why did he flip so fast?
Hearing I wanted removal, my parents were stunned, then their eyes welled up.
“Sweetie, you finally understand.” Mom hugged me tightly.
“I’ll find the best clinic!” Dad whipped out his phone, afraid I’d change my mind.
I felt awkward. Yeah, they were definitely protecting my feelings.
Dad was efficient. That night, he booked me with the top clinic in LA.
Flight booked too.
At the airport, Mom clung to me. “Sweetie, are you sure you don’t want me to come with you??”
“Scared alone? Maybe I should still go with you.”
The family company was busy with export trade lately, and my parents sometimes worked until 11 p.m..
I shook my head. “No, I want to go alone. I’ll come back transformed and totally shock you all then.”
Dad was bawling. “Sweetie, you are so afraid of pain! I just wired a hundred mill to your account. Don’t you dare skimp!”
He pushed their Michelin-starred chef toward me. “Sweetie, you won’t stomach the food over there. Take Chef Pierre! He’ll look after you!”
“…” I sighed. “Fine. Don’t cry, I’m off.”
Mom waved. “Go on.”
Dad sobbed. “Don’t skimp!”
“…Okay!”
Flight from LA to NYC? Five and a half hours.
I landed to a barrage of calls from Chase.
He was furious. “Why aren’t you answering? How many times I gotta call?!”
“I went to your place, but you’re gone! Where the hell are you?!”
I picked my ear, casual. “You miss me?”
He paused, voice strained. “Of course! You’re my fiancée! Who else?”
“And what did you mean by that breakup post online? I didn’t even hold it against you for biting me, and you’re still being willful?”
I’m being willful?
Except for cursing people out, I’ve never stepped out of line my whole life.
Always been a law-abiding citizen.
Now I give someone a taste of their own medicine once, and I have to apologize?
And get ordered to apologize by my ex-fiancé?
I laughed. “Chase, what act are you putting on?”
“Playing it so sincere, almost moved yourself, didn’t you? Need me to give you a Best Actor award?”
“And don’t tell me you think I’m just throwing a tantrum? That if you say a few nice words, I’ll come running back to worship the ground you walk on and protect you like before?”
I tore into him without mercy:
“You pathetic loser, go find a real job shoveling crap!”
I made a sound of disgust into the phone and performed the block-and-delete routine immediately.
Then, I found a luxurious hotel costing 69,999 per night with the chef and checked in.
The next day, I woke up naturally and went straight to the hospital for the examination.
Because the birthmark on my face was large and the color deep, I needed many sessions of laser surgery.
To be honest, laser surgery is quite painful too.
And after each session, my face swelled up badly, looking even more like a… well, you know.
I could only find humor in the hardship, recording the recovery progress of my face while undergoing treatment.
This went on for half a year.
Then, Liam sent me another sarcastic message.
[Hey Sis, I told you not to break up with Chase. Now look, he’s with Sister Amelia. Don’t come crying to me when you regret it.]
Attached was a video.
In it, Chase and Song Amelia stood hand-in-hand under a Ferris wheel, kissing passionately.
I tutted, commenting regretfully:
“What a waste not to be in adult films.”
When I didn’t reply for a long time, Liam forwarded another video.
[Haha, Sis, you’re famous!]
[I knew that nasty temper of yours would get you hated sooner or later! Look, ‘Vicious heiress orders friends around, hits people when displeased.’ They’re being nice calling you ‘invincibly ugly’ here.]
Puzzled, I clicked open the video. It was the edited footage of me beating up Chase from half a year ago.
The video had been heavily cropped and edited.
Someone had also added a passionate voiceover:
“Just because she’s rich, she thinks she can get away with anything! Breaking up a happy couple is bad enough, but biting someone else’s boyfriend? Is this ugly monster part dog or what?”
The comments section was a unified chorus of people cursing me.
The top-liked comment was from someone claiming to be an insider:
[What the video says is true. Skylar, relying on her powerful father, often bullies us. Once, I bought water for her and was just one minute late. She yelled at me, called me a crippled-legged retard! About Chase and Song Amelia, I can’t say much, but these two are truly in love.]
Replies followed immediately:
[I knew that monkey-butt was the other woman! Chase would have to be blind to date such a freak.]
[Right, right! Our Amelia is so beautiful. In the video, the way Chase looks at our baby, you can see the sparks! So sweet.]
I raised an eyebrow, almost laughing at these brainless comments.
Chase and Song Amelia? The perfect couple? Deeply in love?
Knowing each other for less than a year, and I, the ex-fiancée, become the other woman?
“Skylar, I’ve packed everything. Shall we head to the airport now?” The chef uncle pulled the luggage, his face full of excitement about returning home.
I rubbed my fingers, finally deciding to delete the draft where I was considering explaining myself online.
A confrontation like this… it’s always better done face-to-face.
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