A high-speed railway station stood in the heart of the city. A woman in a white T-shirt stepped out, suitcase in hand. She was delicate and pretty, her slightly curly hair casually draped behind her. Beneath her finely arched brows were a pair of clear, bright eyes, a straight nose, and cherry-colored lips. Even without makeup, her natural beauty was striking.

"Hello, are you Miss Margaret? I'm the chauffeur for the Ethan family."

Margaret nodded, feeling a bit relieved, and followed the driver into the car. Exhaustion was evident in her every movement. As they drove away from the station, the driver glanced at her in the rearview mirror. She had her eyes closed, resting.

This was President Ethan’s fiancée.

Ethan Joseph was the president of the Ethan Group, just 21 years old, yet already a powerful figure in the business world. People feared him for his sharpness and ruthless efficiency. It seemed absurd—Margaret, with no prestigious background, was now engaged to such a powerful man. She had arrived by high-speed train, not by private jet.

The driver couldn’t help but scoff internally. "Marrying into a wealthy family like the Ethans... impossible for a girl like her."

Margaret opened her eyes slightly, gazing at the unfamiliar city with a calm, unreadable expression.

Soon, the car arrived at the Ethan family home. The driver grabbed her luggage, but just as they stepped inside, a middle-aged woman stood in their way. Her face was painted with disdain.

"Mrs. Sharon," the driver greeted her.

Margaret, sensing the tension, barely reacted before Sharon threw the contents of a beer bottle at her. The liquid splashed across Margaret's clothes.

"And don’t forget the shoes and hair," Sharon sneered.

The pungent smell hit Margaret instantly. Without missing a beat, she covered her face and coldly asked, "Are you insane?"

Sharon’s face twisted in fury. "As expected, a girl from the countryside. You’re an embarrassment. We have to disinfect you—what if you bring bacteria into the Ethan household?"

Margaret would have walked out and never returned if she had the choice. But instead, she smirked. "Auntie, maybe you should spray some in your mouth. It's disgusting."

With that, she strode past Sharon and entered the house.

"You—!" Sharon sputtered, fuming as Margaret disappeared down the hall. Inside, another woman, dressed head to toe in luxury brands, eyed Margaret with disdain.

"So, you’re my cousin’s fiancée?" the woman—Ethan Wyatt—said, sneering at Margaret’s plain appearance. "Tsk. Grandpa’s taste is really slipping. I heard you came by train? You should’ve said something. We could’ve flown you here. But then again, does your little hometown even have an airport?"

Margaret shot her a cold glance, unimpressed. "Is the Ethan family always this full of itself?"

She didn’t bother explaining that her high-speed train ride had been a personal choice. She could have called in a private jet if she had wanted to. Ignoring Wyatt’s mockery, Margaret headed upstairs.

Wyatt, seething at being ignored, stormed after her. "Where’s my room?" Margaret asked a maid quietly trailing behind her.

Before the maid could respond, Wyatt butted in. "This way." She flung open a door. "I bet you’ve never stayed in a room this nice before. You better get used to it. I’m Ethan’s cousin, by the way—Ethan Wyatt. You’d better please me. You never know when you’ll need a favor."

Before Wyatt could finish, Margaret stepped into the room and slammed the door in her face.

"How dare that bumpkin treat me like that? What’s wrong with Grandpa?" Wyatt fumed outside.

The maid, uncomfortable, whispered, "Miss, this is Young Master Ethan’s room."

Wyatt shrugged dismissively. "So? My cousin hates when people touch his things. When he finds out she stayed here, it’ll be her fault, not mine."

With that, Wyatt's eyes gleamed with satisfaction.