The Kims were one of the most respected families in the country—old money, untarnished reputation, and generations of carefully curated social power. They did not climb the ladder. They built it.
And they would not let some outsider—some nobody from a lower-class family—drag their name through the mud and then profit from it. Not under their roof. Not under their name.
It wasn't just the scandal that shattered their resolve—it was the disgrace of it all. The public humiliation. A daughter they raised with pearls and private tutors, now the laughingstock of the nation.
A child they once paraded like a princess, now reduced to whispers and tabloid mockery.
Kylie had become a stain they could no longer scrub out. And so, they did the one thing the powerful always did when something broke beyond repair:
They discarded her.
Disowned. Stripped of her rights to the family fortune. Her name erased from the will. No trust fund. No fallback. No sympathy.
