Once a Doormat Now Untouchable (Caleb and Sydney) novel Chapter 489

**Chapter 489**

Tiffany was not one to shy away from the spotlight; it was the identity of those who might witness her fall that truly terrified her. If it had been anyone else—a stranger, perhaps—she could have brushed off the embarrassment. But the thought of familiar faces watching her crumble was unbearable.

To the outside world, Tiffany embodied success and confidence. She was a fixture at a prestigious law firm, her reputation gleaming like a gold medal. She donned impeccably tailored suits that accentuated her stature and carried herself with an air of unshakeable composure. Yet beneath that polished exterior, the truth was far more complicated—her family was a tangled mess, rotting at its very roots.

As they walked, Sydney reached out, her hand landing softly but firmly on Tiffany’s head, a gesture of comfort that hinted at the depth of their friendship.

“Even if it were someone else, it wouldn’t matter, Tiffany,” she reassured, her voice steady and warm. “None of this is your fault. You’ve already done more than enough.”

Tiffany felt a flicker of gratitude but also an ache of guilt. She hadn’t chosen the family into which she was born. The choices made by her biological parents were theirs alone, leaving her to navigate the consequences without any say in the matter.

The reality of her family’s situation weighed heavily on her heart. They still resided in a dilapidated alley in Jouleston, a stark contrast to her life of success.

As they approached her old home, the neon lights flickered overhead, casting a kaleidoscope of colors onto the cracked pavement. The air was thick with the mouthwatering aroma of street food, mingling with the sounds of laughter and chatter that filled the night. But as they neared her house, the lively sounds faded, replaced by an unsettling silence that wrapped around them like a heavy shroud.

Feeling the tension, Sydney instinctively took Tiffany’s hand, intertwining their fingers in a gesture of solidarity.

“It really feels like something’s wrong,” she murmured, her brow furrowing with concern.

“Wrong…” Tiffany attempted to brush it aside, forcing steadiness into her voice, but the words lodged in her throat like stones. And then she spotted them—two imposing figures loitering in front of her house, their presence instantly transforming her apprehension into dread.

Her grip tightened around Sydney’s hand. “Stay behind me,” she urged, quickly shoving the car keys into Sydney’s palm. “Go wait in the car.”

In her mind, she had expected nothing more than another one of Stanley’s desperate schemes, a plea for money wrapped in a tantrum. But the sight of these men at her doorstep shifted the entire scenario into something far more sinister.

“Tiffany Voss, right?” one of the men said, his voice low and menacing.

They moved with alarming speed, and in an instant, two more figures emerged from the shadows, effectively cutting off any chance of retreat.

Tiffany let out a short, humorless laugh, a defense mechanism kicking in. “Since you know I’m a lawyer, you should also understand that what you’re doing is illegal.”

“Easy there, no need to get worked up,” one of them replied, casually spitting out betel nuts, the remnants of his disregard flying through the air.

He slapped a contract against her shoulder, the sound echoing ominously in the stillness. “We just wanted your expert opinion. Tell us, Ms. Voss, this loan agreement—it’s valid, isn’t it?”

“Then you should also know who runs Jouleston,” she replied evenly, forcing her fear down with each word. Men like these didn’t hand out thousand-dollar loans to addicts and gamblers out of kindness; they were predators.

The bald man’s patience wore thin.

“Cut the crap,” he barked, his voice rising in anger. “Of course, I know who runs Jouleston. That would be the Sterling heir, Julian!”

He let out a coarse laugh, the sound grating against Tiffany’s nerves. “What, you gonna tell me you’re his mistress? Or that the baby you’re carrying is his?”

His cronies snickered and jeered behind him, their mockery adding to the tension.

“Funny,” a lazy male voice drawled from behind them. “This is the Sterling heir’s woman, and you’ve got jokes about her?”

Tiffany and Sydney turned in unison, relief flooding through them at the sight of Raymond standing a short distance away. Clad in casual attire, he exuded an air of nonchalance, his aristocratic features relaxed as if he were merely observing a mundane scene.

When his gaze landed on the bald man who had nearly touched Tiffany, the gold rims of his glasses glinted in the streetlight, sharp and dangerous.

Sydney’s eyes darted past Raymond to the mouth of the alley, where Julian stood tall in a perfectly tailored black suit. His expression was calm, inscrutable, and when their eyes met, he lifted a hand slightly, palm open, beckoning her forward. “Precious, come here.”