Reborn Heiress: Taking Back What Is Rightfully Hers!-Chapter 632: She Got Beat Up!

The top post on Autumn’s Twitter was her final statement. She was still in custody.

Tons of fans were posting under it, crying out for justice, sharing photos of her being taken away by the police.

Alexander glanced at it coldly. "Yeah, I’ve seen it. But I don’t believe Aurora would do something like that. Even Mr. Nelson and Everett came out to support her..."

Peyton scoffed. "Exactly. Don’t you think that just proves how good she is at working her magic—playing both men? Otherwise, why would someone like Everett, that arrogant prince, bother standing up for a woman like Aurora?"

Her tone turned sharp. "You never even slept with her, did you? Ha!"

Alexander’s face darkened.

No, he hadn’t. But that didn’t give Peyton the right to insult Aurora like that.

"Shut up! You’re just jealous, that’s why you’re saying all this garbage."

Peyton bit her lip, tears rolling down her cheeks. She put on her best heartbroken act and didn’t say another word. Instead, she turned and ran out, sobbing as she went.

Alexander watched her go, a wave of guilt washing over him.

Peyton had supported the Lewis family through tough times—financially and otherwise. It was hard to repay that kind of debt.

But what could he do? He didn’t want to be with someone so fake.

Outside, Peyton ran from the building, filled with rage. She hated Aurora even more now. If not for her, Alexander would’ve accepted her already.

Just then, she got a call from her old flame, Julian. They’d met during an internship—he was the CEO of a tech company, 30 years old, rich, charming... and a total womanizer.

They had dated briefly, but Peyton dumped him after finding out about his wandering eye.

"Hey babe, I’m getting married soon. Throwing a wild bachelor party tonight—you in? It’s at the Nelson Group Hotel, top floor—tallest place in S City."

Peyton said yes without hesitation. She needed a release, and if Alexander didn’t care about her, then fine—she’d have fun without him.

The party went well into the night. Around 1 a.m., Peyton went to the rooftop to get some air.

The Nelson Group Hotel had 99 floors—one of the tallest buildings in S City. The rooftop had high safety fencing, just in case anyone got the idea to jump.

Julian followed her up, drink in hand.

"What’s wrong, baby? You look upset," he said with a sly grin, wrapping an arm around her.

Peyton turned to face him, poking his forehead. She was tipsy, eyes glossy. "Men like you are the worst. So flirty. So fake. And then there are some guys who are just clueless—still clinging to their first love like it’s sacred."

Julian smirked, set his glass down, and moved in close. Their bodies nearly touching. "Is that so? I’m a romantic, you know. Still addicted to the taste of you... how about a little rooftop fun?"

Peyton giggled, radiating that same wild charm. Julian grabbed her face and kissed her hard.

She didn’t push him away.

She was lonely. She craved affection, excitement—anything to make her feel alive.

Her soft arms wrapped around his neck. They kissed, passionately, hungrily.

Just as things were about to explode, the door burst open.

A group of women came storming in, screaming.

"You home-wrecking slut!"

"Have some shame! Trying to seduce a taken man? Let’s teach her a lesson!"

Julian panicked and shoved Peyton into their path. The women pounced.

They yanked her hair, slapped her, scratched her face. Peyton screamed in pain again and again.

One of the attackers? Julian’s fiancée.

She was fierce, and her family was loaded. Julian had only been with her to secure his company’s future. Now that things had blown up, he bolted—pretending nothing had happened, leaving Peyton to fend for herself.

By the time hotel security showed up, Peyton’s clothes were ripped, and she was curled up, shaking, unable to cry.

She had no idea how she made it home.

Alexander took one look at her and rushed her to the hospital without a word.

Peyton, sensing his concern, felt a spark of hope.

"Alexander, thank you... sob... I got jumped by some thugs. They took my wallet and beat me. Thank you for helping me..."

She lied effortlessly. She was used to it by now.

Alexander stared at her, stone-faced. "You really got mugged?"

"Yes! What, you don’t believe me? Ugh, my mouth hurts..." she whimpered, grabbing his hand. "How can you still not trust me after all this?"

Alexander raised an eyebrow. "I’ll give you one more chance. Tell me the truth."

"It is the truth! I was mugged, I swear!" Peyton clung to the story, refusing to admit she’d been caught hooking up with Julian by his fiancée and got her face rearranged for it.

Alexander pulled his hand away and let out a cold laugh. "You really are good at lying. You should go pro. That video of you getting beat up—someone already sent it to me."

What?

Peyton went pale. Who the hell did this?

Turns out, the video had been filmed by a friend of Derek’s girlfriend. She thought it was juicy drama and passed it to Derek, who just so happened to know Peyton... and naturally forwarded it to Alexander.

"N-no... that’s not what happened! Don’t believe everything you see, Alexander. That video doesn’t tell the whole story..."

"You’re discharged. Doctor said it’s all surface wounds, nothing serious. Get dressed. We’re going to my mom’s place."

Alexander didn’t argue. He just gave orders calmly.

Peyton let out a quiet breath of relief. He wasn’t angry. But somehow... that hurt more.

If he didn’t get mad, it just meant—he didn’t care.

Still, she grabbed her phone and followed him home obediently.

It was 7 a.m. by the time they got there.

Mrs. Lewis was in the kitchen cooking breakfast. When she saw the two of them walk in, she was shocked.

But when she got a good look at Peyton—her face scratched, her eyes and forehead bruised—she gasped.

"What on earth happened?! Alexander, did you hurt Peyton?!"

She rushed over and took Peyton’s hand. "Are you okay, sweetheart? You poor thing! Alexander, how could you hit her? Say sorry right now!"

Alexander looked at his mother in disbelief. "Mom... why would you assume I did this?"