My Tears Trigger His Bloodshed

I was born with a condition: my tears fall uncontrollably. The moment I felt wronged, the tears would always come before any explanation.

Everyone accused me of faking it, calling me the manipulative daughter of a murderer.

Until Ethan Stone, the city's most formidable and ruthless lawyer, became my empath.

When I was scorned and humiliated, he'd suddenly vomit blood at a high-stakes corporate merger negotiation.

When my enemies trampled me, he'd convulse with pain, his eyes burning crimson.

Later, everyone in the city knew Ethan Stone had an absolute red line, something you never, ever touched:

"She can cry," he'd declare, "but anyone who dares make her cry, I'll make them wish they were dead."

But the heiress whose father framed mine, sending him to prison, didn't believe it.

She not only trampled me at a gala but also faked my mom's mental incapacity diagnosis and forced me to live-stream a confession to the entire internet.

Ethan, miles away, watched me forced to my knees on the live stream and violently coughed up a mouthful of fresh blood.

That night, dozens of black Maybachs swarmed the city, shutting it down.

Ethan, stepping on the real culprit's face, looked like a demon unleashed. "Which hand touched her? Chop it off."

I was born with a condition: my tears fall uncontrollably. The moment I was wrongly accused, the tears would always come before any explanation.

When I was little, my desk-mate's eraser went missing, and she pointed the finger at me. Before the teacher could even start asking questions, I was already sobbing, gasping for breath, shaking uncontrollably.

Everyone pointed fingers, saying, "See? She's crying. She must be guilty."

Later, my dad, David Hayes, was sentenced to life in prison for murder.

Relatives swarmed our rundown rental house, pointing fingers and yelling at my mom, saying she married a murderer and birthed a mini-murderer.

I rushed out, my eyes red, wanting to explain, wanting to scream that my dad was innocent. But tears gushed out first, my throat felt like it was clogged with a waterlogged sponge, unable to make a sound.

They watched my tear-streaked face and became even more convinced.

"See? This girl is just like her murderer dad, always faking distress to gain sympathy."

For ten years, what I hated most were these eyes of mine that couldn't stop crying.

Until Ethan Stone, the city's top-tier lawyer, became my empath.

When I was wrongly accused, the injustice, fear, and helplessness I felt would be amplified a hundredfold in him.

When I was called "the murderer's daughter," he would suddenly choke, losing his voice in court.

When I was forced to bow my head and confess, he couldn't even get out a full defense statement, drenched in cold sweat from the pain.

Later, the entire legal and elite circles of New York knew that the untouchable, cold-blooded Ethan Stone had an absolute red line.

"She can cry."

"But never, ever because you forced her to."

But at first, I didn't know any of this.

All I knew was that tonight was my last chance to retrieve my dad's only memento.

That night, the rain poured down heavily, as if trying to drown the entire city.

A glittering charity gala was being held on the top floor of The Ritz Hotel.

I stood cowering in a corner, wearing a cheap dress I'd borrowed, my gaze fixed on the auction stage.

On stage, Serena Thorne, wearing a haute couture gown, smiled sweetly as she displayed an old, intricately crafted watch.

"This watch belonged to a heinous murderer. Today, it's being auctioned, and all proceeds will be donated to the victim's family, as a way to atone for that murderer's sins."

A chorus of applause rose from the audience.

My heart felt like a piece had been brutally carved out.

That was my dad's watch.

Ten years ago, my dad, David Hayes, was sentenced for murder.

Everyone said he killed a passing wealthy businessman for money.

But I knew he didn't.

That night, he was just passing through a dark, old alley, and out of kindness, he saved a man covered in blood. The real killer escaped, but my dad, stained with blood, became the scapegoat.

That crafted watch was on his wrist the day he was arrested, and it was the only memento he left me.

I bit my lip until it bled, then raised my crumpled bidding paddle.

"Ten thousand dollars!"

This was every penny I'd saved from three years of odd jobs.

All eyes in the room instantly focused on me, filled with contempt, mockery, and disdain.

Serena Thorne looked down at me, her red lips curved into a cruel smirk.

"Well, well, isn't that Summer Hayes, the murderer's daughter? What, are you using the dirty money your dad stole from murder to buy the watch back?"

I clenched my fists so hard my nails dug deep into my palms, breaking the skin.

"That's my own money! My dad didn't kill anyone!"

I wanted to shout back, to throw the truth in their faces. But tears, betrayingly, streamed down my face again.

Tears blurred my vision, and my frail body trembled violently under everyone's gaze.

Serena Thorne let out a scoff, then walked up to me on her ten-centimeter heels.

"One hundred thousand," she casually stated.

I looked at her in despair.

"Five hundred thousand." She continued to raise the price, her eyes looking at me like I was an ant.

"Summer Hayes, didn't you want to appeal the case? Didn't you hire Ethan Stone as your lawyer?"

Serena leaned close to my ear, her voice barely a whisper, yet every word cut deep.

"You don't actually think Ethan Stone would cross the Thorne family for low-life trash like you, do you?"

She suddenly raised her hand and smashed the watch to the ground.

A sharp crack.

The watch face shattered, gears scattering.

"Oops, butterfingers!" Serena covered her mouth, feigning surprise.

My mind went blank. I lunged to the floor, disregarding the broken glass shards, frantically trying to pick up the pieces.

Glass dug into my fingertips, blood mixed with tears staining the carpet.

Suddenly, Serena shrieked.

"My ring! My pink diamond ring is gone!"

Her bodyguard immediately stepped forward and yanked me up from the floor.

"She was the only one near Miss Thorne! She must have stolen it! Search her!"

I struggled wildly, sobbing hysterically.

"I didn't! I didn't steal anything!"

"Let me go! Let me go!"

Extreme injustice, humiliation, and fear flooded over me like a tidal wave.

Meanwhile, miles away, at an international convention center.

A multi-billion dollar cross-border merger negotiation was underway.

Ethan Stone, wearing a perfectly tailored black haute couture suit, sat at the head of the table, his eyes sharp and ruthless, a man of decisive action.

But the moment the bodyguard pinned me down and humiliated me with a search.

His long fingers, clutching a signing pen, froze.

An indescribable agony, mixed with an overwhelming tide of injustice and despair, surged through his entire being like a tsunami.

His heart felt squeezed by an invisible giant hand, and his breath hitched.

"Mr. Stone?" The foreign delegate across from him noticed something was off.

Ethan's face was deathly pale, veins pulsed at his temples, and cold sweat streamed down.

He abruptly stood up, wanting to speak, but a strong metallic taste of blood welled up in his throat.

The next second, to everyone's horror.

"PFFFT---"

A mouthful of blood erupted from his lips, staining the multi-billion dollar contract in front of him.

His assistant, Noah Clarke, was terrified.

"Mr. Stone! Call an ambulance!"

Ethan gripped the table, his knuckles white from the effort.

He forced down the lingering metallic taste in his throat, his eyes blazing with a terrifying fury.

"Find... Summer Hayes!" His voice was impossibly hoarse, as if each word was scraped over sandpaper.

"Now!"

The farce at the gala continued.

The bodyguard roughly tore open my cheap handbag, emptying its contents onto the floor.

A few crumpled bills, a packet of tissues, and the blood-stained watch parts.

No ring.

Serena Thorne's face darkened, and she shot a meaningful glance at her bodyguard.

The bodyguard understood instantly and suddenly pointed at my dress pocket.

"Here it is!"

He reached in and pulled out a dazzling pink diamond ring, appearing triumphantly in his hand.

The entire room gasped.

"Oh my god, it really was her who stole it!"

"A murderer's daughter, of course, she's a thief too!"

"Call the cops! Get her arrested, let her reunite with her murderer dad in jail!"

Vicious curses swirled around me like a tide.

I couldn't defend myself, shaking my head in despair.

"It wasn't me... You're framing me..."

I was crying so hard I felt faint, my stomach clenching in painful spasms.

Serena Thorne looked down at me, a triumphant smile playing on her lips.

"People like you were born to rot in the mud, Summer Hayes. Want to appeal your case? In your next life."

She raised her foot, and her ten-centimeter stiletto heel came down hard on the back of my hand, grinding into it.

"Ah---"

I cried out in pain, the agony, sharp as a thousand needles, made cold sweat prickle all over me.

Just then, a thunderous "BANG!"

The heavy ballroom doors burst open, kicked in from the outside.

Dozens of bodyguards in black suits streamed in, instantly taking control of the room.

The crowd parted, forced to create a path.

Ethan Stone strode in purposefully.

His suit was still a bit disheveled, and a trace of uncleaned blood stained the corner of his mouth. His face was ashen, like a sheet of paper, but his dark eyes held a chilling, murderous intent.

He walked straight to me, looking at my hand trampled underfoot and the blood splattered on the floor.

In that moment, I clearly saw his body tremble, and a flicker of extreme pain crossed his eyes.

"Get out of the way."

His voice was not loud, but it carried an undeniable authority.

Serena Thorne froze, clearly not expecting Ethan Stone to appear here.

"M-Mr. Stone, why are you here? This woman stole my ring, I was just teaching her a lesson..."

"I said, get out of the way."

Ethan suddenly lifted his gaze, his eyes cold as an ice-tempered blade.

Serena Thorne was startled by his look and stumbled back, instinctively releasing her foot.

Ethan dropped to one knee, ignoring the expensive carpet, and carefully, gently, lifted my blood-soaked hand.

His hand was cold, his fingertips still trembled slightly.

"Summer Hayes." He looked at me, his voice impossibly hoarse. "Did I not tell you to call me if anything happened?"

I looked at him, my feelings of injustice reaching their peak.

"Mr. Stone... I didn't steal anything... That was my dad's watch..."

I was sobbing, gasping for breath, and large tears splattered onto the back of his hand.

Ethan Stone's brow furrowed tightly, and his Adam's apple bobbed violently.

He suddenly reached out and pulled me into his arms.

"Stop crying."

He gritted his teeth, his voice filled with suppressed agony, whispering in my ear.

"If you cry any more, you'll literally kill me with this pain."

I froze, forgetting to cry.

Ethan took a deep breath, slipped off his suit jacket, and draped it over my shoulders. Then he slowly stood up, shielding me behind him.

He turned to look at Serena Thorne, his gaze now returned to absolute coldness.

"Framing, malicious intent, assault."

"Each of those charges is enough to land you in prison for years."

Serena Thorne forced herself to stay calm.

"Mr. Stone, what is the meaning of this? She clearly stole my ring, everyone saw it!"

"Did they?"

Ethan Stone scoffed, then turned to Noah Clarke.

Noah Clarke immediately stepped forward, opened his tablet, and connected it to the ballroom's large screen.

A surveillance video played clearly.

It showed Serena Thorne, while I wasn't looking, secretly slipping the pink diamond ring into my dress pocket.

The entire hall fell into a deathly silence.

Serena Thorne's face instantly went ashen, and her lips trembled violently.

"B-but... wasn't the surveillance system broken?"

Ethan Stone looked down at her, like he was looking at a dead person.

"Miss Thorne, you probably don't know that this hotel is part of the Stone Group."

"You've got a lot of nerve, messing with my people on my territory."

He leaned in slightly, his voice a low whisper, yet every person in the room heard him clearly.

"That foot that stepped on her today? Tomorrow, I'll make sure the entire Thorne family is wiped off the map of this city."

After that night, the Thorne family indeed paid a price.

Serena Thorne was taken in for questioning by the police for assault, and Thorne Group's stock plummeted overnight, hitting its daily limit.

But I knew this was just the beginning.

The Thorne family was deeply entrenched in New York; they wouldn't be toppled so easily.

Sure enough, the next day, a tidal wave of negative trending topics swamped the entire internet.

#Murderer'sDaughterSeducesAceLawyerToClearFather'sName#

#SummerHayes GalaTheft#

#EthanStone FallenFromGrace#

Maliciously edited videos went viral online.

They only showed me kneeling and weeping, and Ethan Stone creating a scene for me.