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⚡️✨A clear clause in the surrogacy agreement states: 'No Romance.' The question though is, can they control their hearts? Her ailing mother's wish and his quest for lineage that brings them under one roof: a surrogacy event. 😲👀They strike an offbeat pact: 'A baby yes, but no love.' 😍A journey unknowingly leading them towards an undeniable bond, a connection much more profound than bearing just a child
I hate my boss, Adrian Drake. He’s arrogant. Ruthless. Impossible to work for. So why is my secret online crush starting to sound exactly like him? --------------- Blair I can't believe there are women who want to date their boss. Clearly, they've never met Adrian Drake. I get off the train and make my way to the office. Please let today be a decent day at work. I work in central London, and there's a small coffee shop diagonally across from the Drake Media building; it's busy and bustling as people rush in and out on their way to work. "Hey, beautiful girl," says Mike. "Hi." I smile happily. Mike is the barista who works here; also he's had a low-key crush on me for a few years. He's sweet and cute and unfortunately I feel absolutely nothing every time he speaks to me. It sucks, because he's a really great guy. If ever there was someone that I knew would be good for me, it would be Mike. I wish I could pick who I was attracted to; it definitely would make things a lot easier in my life. "The usual?" Mike asks. I take a seat by the window. "Yes please." I look around. Mike makes my coffee and comes over and sits it down in front of me. "What's new?" he asks. "Not much." I pick up my coffee, steam floats to the ceiling, and I blow on it. "I'm thinking of joining the gym at work." "Yeah?" Mike's gaze looks over to the building across the street. "You have a gym in there?" "A huge one, on level fourteen." "Ha, who knew? Do you have to pay?" "No, it's free for employees." I take a sip of my coffee. Mike chuckles as he pretends to wipe down the table next to where I'm sitting. "I can come with you," he offers with a cute wink. "Sorry, it's for employees only and I can't afford to go to another gym." Mike rolls his eyes. Mike and I watch on as a black Bentley pulls up in front of the Drake Media building. The driver gets out of the car and opens the back door, and Adrian Drake climbs out. Like some kind of morning spectacle that I go through every day, my eyes roam up and down the man I despise. Today he's wearing a navy-blue pinstripe suit with a white shirt, his dark hair curled to just-fvcked perfection. I watch him do up his jacket with one hand, his briefcase in his other. His back is ramrod-straight, his stance dominant. Arrogance personified. I sip my coffee as I watch him; it infuriates me that he's gorgeous. It infuriates me that every woman stops dead in her tracks, and stares when he walks into a room. And more than anything, it infuriates me that he knows it. Although I'd never admit it, I read the tabloids and gossip magazines, I see all the exotic parties he goes to and the beautiful women he dates. I know more about Adrian Drake than I care to admit. I mean, I should—I've hated the man for the whole seven years that I've worked for him. I watch as he says something to his driver with a smile, then he walks into the Drake Media building as people turn their heads to watch him, and I feel the hackles on the back of my neck rise. Adrian Drake, the epitome of a rich bastard ... pisses me off. It's just three in the afternoon and my email pings. I open it. Adrian Drake. CEO Drake Media UK. [Blair, Have you finalized the tracking report?] Asshole. I clench my jaw and type my reply. [Dear Mr. Drake, Good afternoon, always a pleasure to receive correspondence from you. Your manners are as impeccable as ever. The report isn't due until Tuesday next week, you will receive it then. Perhaps if I had the adequate number of staff members, I could work to your unrealistic work schedule. Enjoy the rest of your day. Sincerely, Blair.] I smirk and hit send; being a sarcastic bitch to Adrian Drake is my favorite hobby. A reply bounces straight back in. [Good afternoon Blair, As always, your dramatics are unappreciated. I didn't ask when I would receive the report, I asked if you had finished it. Please pay attention to detail, I don't want to constantly repeat myself. Have you finished the report or not?] I inhale sharply, this damn man drives me fvcking crazy. I type my reply, hitting my keyboard so hard I'm surprised I don't break a finger. [Mr. Drake, Of course the report is finalized. I am, as always, prepared for your inconsistencies in dates and timelines. Thankfully, one of us is a professional. Please find the attached report. If you have trouble understanding it, I'm happy to take time out of my busy schedule to explain it before you meet the board. I smirk as I keep typing, imagining the smoke coming out of his ears as he reads it. Have a lovely afternoon, always a pleasure. Blair Bennett.] I sip my tea, feeling happy with myself—take that. My email pings again and I open it. [Miss Bennett. Thank you. Have a safe trip home this afternoon, don't walk in front of a bus or anything.] I smile to myself. Stupid twat ... you wish. Chapter 2 Blair I stand and watch my roommate Rebecca run around the apartment like a chicken—Daniel is arriving at any moment. And boy oh boy, is Rebecca in overdrive. "Don't just stand there," she snaps. "What do you want me to do?" I look around the spotless apartment. "There is literally nothing left to clean. What is it with you and this guy?" I ask. "You're hell-bent on impressing him. The fact that he's gorgeous wouldn't have anything to do with it, would it?" "Don't be ridiculous," she snaps again. "I have a boyfriend, remember?" "Oh, I remember, but do you?" "Shut up," she huffs. The doorbell sounds and our eyes meet. "He's here," she whispers. "Well." I gesture to the front door. "Go and let him in." Rebecca nearly runs to the front door and opens it in a rush. "Hi." She smiles. It's really hard not to roll my eyes. "Hi." He smiles as he looks between us. He's got two big suitcases with him, he's tall and blond, and I have to admit, he really is quite handsome. I don't remember him being this good-looking when he came around to meet us before. No wonder Beck is breaking her back to impress him. "Here, let me help you with those," I offer. Beck looks out onto the street. "Do you have any more things you want help with bringing in?" "Thanks, I've just got another two suitcases in my car. I can get them." "You remember Blair?" She gestures to me. Daniel's eyes come to me. "Yes, of course I do. Nice to see you again, Blair." I give an awkward smile—I'm always so weird in social situations. Until I get to know someone I'm really not friendly at all. Not by choice of course, shyness is a curse. "This is your bedroom through here." Rebecca plays tour guide, leads him through and shows him his room. "And this is my bedroom. Come upstairs and I'll show you Blair's bedroom," she offers. I follow them as she shows him around the apartment. My eyes roam up and down Daniel: he's wearing black trousers, a black knitted sweater, pointy shoes, and a bomber jacket in camo green. His clothes are expensive and trendy; he really does look the part of the personal stylist. "When do you start work?" I ask as I try and make conversation. "I have four clients next week, and I have to find about fifty more as soon as possible," he says. I smile. "But seriously, I start with Harrods next week, I'm going to be one of their in-house shoppers." Oh, what a hellish job—shopping is my living nightmare. Unsure what to say and feeling awkward, I hunch my shoulders. "I've never met a personal shopper before." Daniel smiles. "There aren't too many of us." I take a suitcase from him and glance down at it: Louis Vuitton. Jeez ... I think the suitcase is worth more than my car. He disappears down the front steps to the street and I peer out after him: he has a black new-model Audi. Why the hell is he sharing an apartment with two other people if he has all this expensive stuff? Surely he would want to live alone? I know I would. He grabs another two suitcases from his car and once again they are beautiful black leather; I eye them suspiciously as he walks back up the steps. I wish I had good taste like this. I wouldn't know what to buy even if I did have the money. Daniel wheels his suitcases into his bedroom and looks between us as he puts his hands on his hips. "Please tell me that you girls are taking me out tonight. There's no better way to get to know each other than over a few drinks." Rebecca's eyes nearly pop from her head in excitement. "That sounds awesome." She glances over to me. "Doesn't it, Blair?" Not really. A fake smile. "Sure does." "Shall we go?" he asks. "Now?" I frown. "You don't want to put anything away first?" "No, I'm good, it will still be there tomorrow and I have nothing to do until next week so it will give me a mission." An hour later, we sit at the bar in a restaurant, wine firmly in hand. "So?" Daniel looks between the two of us. "What's the story with you two, are you single or dating?" "Well." Rebecca smiles. "I have a boyfriend, Brett. And Blair here is trying to get an honorary membership to the nunnery." I laugh. "That's not true. I'm just very picky." Daniel gives me a cute wink. "Nothing wrong with that. I'm quite picky myself actually." "And what's your story?" Rebecca asks. "Well ..." Daniel pauses as if choosing the right words. "I am ..." He pauses again. "Gay?" I ask. Daniel laughs. "I like women too much to title myself completely gay." "So ..." Rebecca screws up her face as she tries to make sense of that statement. "You're bisexual?" Daniel twists his lips as if thinking. "I wouldn't say I'm bisexual. My natural attraction is toward women. But lately ..." His voice trails off. "What?" I ask, fascinated. "A few years back I was partying with a few guys that I didn't know that well in Ibiza. One of them was gay." "How many were you away with?" I ask. "There were four of us in total." "So, three of you were straight?" Daniel nods. "Maybe it was the sun, maybe it was the alcohol, or maybe it was the cocaine, I don't know, but something happened and we got a little randy, spent the weekend in bed, and now I have a bit of a fetish for men on the side." Rebecca smiles dreamily over at Daniel, as if this is the best story that she's ever heard. And I can almost hear the cogs in her brain clicking, assessing how liberated he must be. I sip my drink, equally fascinated with his story. "How does it feel to be sexual with somebody that isn't your natural inclination?" "Good. Perhaps a little kinky." Daniel shrugs. "I think that's what it is for me, I feel like I'm doing something naughty, something that I shouldn't be doing but at the same time feels so natural. And I don't know how long I'll keep doing it, maybe not forever, maybe not much more at all. But whenever I do it, I don't regret it. It doesn't feel wrong, if that's what you mean." "How many ..." Rebecca's voice trails off as she stops herself. "You can ask me anything," Daniel prompts her. "How many men have you been with?" Daniel narrows his eyes as he thinks. "Hmm, not many, I would say more than ten but less than twenty." "Jeez." My eyebrows raise by themselves. "What's that look for?" Daniel smiles. "Well, you said that you haven't slept with many men. If that's a low number for you what's a high number? I mean ... what are your numbers for women?" Daniel laughs. "Too many to count, I'm afraid. I meet some beautiful people in my industry, sometimes the temptation is just too great." Disappointment fills me and I screw up my napkin and throw it onto the table in disgust. "I wish I was more like you," I sigh. "Meaning?" "You know, all liberated and cool and"—I pause as I think of the right terminology—"I guess, free." Daniel's face falls. "You don't feel free?" Oh God, why did I say that? Now I sound like a freaking drama queen. "What I meant is, I guess I would like to be in your shoes, you know, sleeping with whoever I wanted to for fun." "You don't have sex for fun?" Daniel frowns. This is all coming out wrong. "I mean, I have in the past. I guess I just got out of the swing of it as I got older." "How old are you?" he asks. "Twenty-seven. I had a few boyfriends in high school and college, and then after that I had a long-term boyfriend. We broke up a year after my parents died." "Your parents died?" I sip my drink; how did we get onto this subject? Why did I say that? "They were involved in a head-on collision car crash," Rebecca replies; she knows how much I hate saying that out loud. Daniel's eyes come to me in a question. "My mother died at the scene, my father died on the way to hospital. The driver that hit them had a heart attack and veered onto the wrong side of the road." I feel the heaviness come over me as my chest constricts, and I glance up into the kind eyes of Rebecca, who gives me a soft smile and takes my hand across the table. I had just moved in with Rebecca at college when my parents died. She's been my rock and a wonderful friend and has been there for me on many lonely sad nights. "I'm so sorry," Daniel whispers. "Do you have any other family?" "Yes." I smile. "I have a wonderful brother, Brad, and I have a sister who ..." My voice trails off. "Who what?" Daniel asks. "Is a raving bitch," Rebecca snaps. "I have no idea how the two of these girls are genetically related. They have nothing at all in common. Chalk and cheese." Daniel smiles in surprise as he looks between us. "Why, what's she like?" "Beautiful." I sip my drink. "Entitled and mean," Rebecca interjects. I smile sadly. "She's not so bad. She's taken our parents' death the hardest and somehow her personality changed overnight. Brad and I have held each other up and limped along and yet, all she wanted to do is be on her own. She hasn't handled grief the same as we have." "You don't see her at all?" Daniel asks. "No, I do see her," I reply. "I'm just usually upset or ruffled after she leaves. You know when you spend time with someone and they kind of suck the life out of you. She likes money and fame and having the designer handbags and all her gorgeous boyfriends. I feel like"—I pause as I try to articulate myself—"I feel like she's replacing our parents' love with objects." "You don't like designer things?" "I guess." I shrug. "Everyone likes nice things, don't they? It's just not my priority." "Blair is very good with her money," Rebecca interrupts. "That's code for tight." Daniel laughs as his eyes flick to me. "Are you tight, Blair?" "I am not tight." "Oh, you are too," Rebecca scoffs. "She won't spend any money on herself at all and is always saving for a rainy day. She wears the same ten outfits and hides behind those big thick glasses." "I need them to see, Rebecca," I announce, indignant. "And I just don't see the point in spending a fortune on clothes and dressing up fancy all the time." "You work in central London with some of the hottest men in the capital and you're too busy wearing sensible office clothes to attract any of them." I roll my eyes in disgust. "Trust me, there is no one at work worth impressing." Daniel's eyes linger on me and, as amusement flashes across his face, he clinks his wineglass with mine. "What?" I ask. "I think I just found my new project." Chapter 3 Blair Four hours and three bottles of wine later, and with Stevie Nicks playing in the background, Daniel says, "Then what will I write?" He laughs. We are sitting on the couch still talking way too much nonsense, and filling in a profile on a dating app for Daniel on my computer. Apparently this is a priority when you move to a new city. Who knew? The question reads: What are you looking for? "Hmm, that's a hard one." Daniel inhales sharply as he does his best to think through the cloud of alcohol. "Oh, I know. Write this," Rebecca says in her throaty, I'm-as-drunk-as-a-skunk voice. "Vag1na or d1ck, short or tall, waxed or hairy, preferably hot." "So basically"—I point to him with my wineglass—"you'll take anything." "In a nutshell," Daniel replies as he types something in. "Scratch the preferably." I laugh as I lie back; the room is beginning to spin. "I have to go to bed." I sigh. "I have to work tomorrow." "Not so fast," Daniel says. "We're making you a profile next." "I am not getting on a dating website. For your information," I slur, "there isn't a man on earth who could impress me in writing. And besides, I'm way too inebriated." "Yes," he insists. "Not right now, the timing isn't right." Daniel types furiously. "You have to fill these things out while you're drunk, and there is no time like the present." "What if someone found out it was me?" I asked, horrified. "I would never live it down." "Nobody cares about dating apps, everybody does it," Rebecca scoffs as if I'm clueless. "Don't use your real name, then." "Wouldn't that be weird, though?" I say. "Like I told him a fake name and then we're on a date and I have to say, sorry but this is my real name now, and I'm actually a liar." "Well, you don't have to tell them straight up," Daniel says as he types. "You keep the fake name until you know if you like them and then you tell them your real name." I smirk into my wineglass as I watch him and Rebecca go through the profile. Daniel is fun. He hands me my laptop. "You fill in the rest." "Huh?" "I filled it out for you, answer the next question." "What?" "We made you a profile," Rebecca informs me. "Just humor us, please." Name: Pinkie Leroo Height: 5ft7 Weight: Just right Appearance: Gorgeous Hobbies: Gym and working out, laughing Favorite pastime: Eating out and having sex Profession: Computer analytics Hair color: Sandy blonde Eyes: Brown Skin: Olive What are you looking for? "Pinkie Leroo?" I scoff. "Who the hell is that?" "That's you." "What?" I laugh. "You couldn't come up with a better fake name? I sound like a cheap bottle of wine." "Men love that shit," Daniel replies. "But, do they?" I read through the details they've added. "I thought we were lying on this thing?" "We are." "Well, I do like eating out and having sex, so ..." I shrug. "The gym and working out part?" Rebecca raises an impatient eyebrow. "This is ridiculous." I slam my computer shut and stand. "I'm going to bed." I go up on to my tippy toes and kiss Daniel's cheek. "Goodnight, naughty boy." "Night. Fill in that profile, I'm checking it in the morning." I roll my eyes as I begin to walk up the stairs. "You just worry about your own profile, or more specifically, how easily pleased you are," I call. "You really should work on that. Up your standards a bit." "Don't knock it till you try it," he calls back. "Ugh." Rebecca winces. "I am never going down on a woman. Like fvcking ever. It's just too ... in your face ... literally." I get a really bad visual and I screw up my face with a laugh. "Stop," I cry. Half an hour later, I lie on my bed. I'm wrapped in a towel after showering and Daniel's and Rebecca's words from earlier are running through my head, and more importantly my words: I wish I was more like you. Who am I kidding, I am free. I don't know where I get this notion that my hands are tied. It's men who have preconceived ideas on what they want; they're all just looking for the next Barbie doll. I read over the profile they created and I smile as an idea rolls around in my head. I'm going to prove just how shallow and fickle men really are. I open my computer, go back to the profile, and I change my answers. Name: Pinkie Leroo Height: On point Weight: Pretty face Appearance: Below average Hobbies: Playing with my twelve cats Favorite pastime: Washing my hair Profession: Taxidermies Hair color: Pink – notice my name (insert eye roll) Eyes: Star struck Skin: Pasty white I go onto the internet and search for a picture of a cat, find an image of a huge fat one with bulging eyes. It's the ugliest cat I ever saw. "Here, kitty, kitty." I smile as I upload it as my profile pic. I read the question again: [What are you looking for?] I inhale deeply as I think, hmm ... I want to write something that will show me what I already know, that nobody interests me at all. I twist my lips as I contemplate my words. [I'm looking for someone who is only one color, but not one size. Stuck at the bottom, yet easily flies. Present in sun, but not in rain. Doing no harm, but feeling no pain.] I smile and hit submit: that will weed them out. Nobody will respond. It's Thursday, and it's been the best week I've had in a long time. Daniel is hilarious, and we've been out to dinner every night, because apparently, he doesn't ever feel like anything home-cooked. We have champagne taste on a beer budget. He's announced that, by default, we are his official best friends now, seeing as he has nobody else in town. He even asked me to go to an event next week that he's been invited to. I'm going as his date, but there is no date, it's not like that between us. I do have to admit though, he's great company. Oh, and surprise, surprise ... nobody has messaged me on my dating app. Just like I knew they wouldn't. I smile as I wriggle into my netball uniform. I'm in the bathroom stall in my office building, work has finished for the day, and I'm playing netball at six-thirty, and there isn't enough time to go home and get back into town. I slide it down over my shoulders and cringe as I look at myself. "Oh ... yuck," I whisper. "This is hideous." Skintight, bright red, the dress sticks to my body like super glue and it's super short. I walk to the mirror to stare at my reflection. I look like a netball player in some sicko porn gang team skit. I don't know whether to laugh or cry. "Ugh, who picked these uniforms?" I sigh as I rearrange my boobs. "So ugly." I shrug my shoulders. Oh well. I pull my hair up into a high ponytail and make my way back to my office. It's too early to go yet, so I'll finish up some odd jobs while I wait. Chapter 4 Adrian I glance at my watch. Jameson and Tristan are here and have gone downstairs with Christopher. I'm just finishing up these reports and then we're heading out. Running the London arm of Drake Media, one of the biggest media companies in the world, has its trials and tribulations. I get to be the boss, but with that comes a never-ending sense of responsibility. My brother Jameson is the CEO of the United States company, and I oversee UK and Germany. We run France together. It's a stressful role, but one that I enjoy immensely. They've been ages, what the hell are they doing? I click onto the security camera to see if they're close; a collage of pictures comes up on my computer screen. I glance through them to see that they are on level one, and am just about to click out of it when something bright flashes in the bottom left of the screen, catching my eye. What's that? I click to enlarge that screen for a closer investigation. It's a woman wearing a high ponytail—she's in a bright red, Lycra sports dress ... It's fitted and all-in-one and has a little short flared skirt ... Huh? She has her back to the camera and is standing at a photocopier. I study the screen to try and make out where the footage is from. It looks like ... a photocopy room, maybe. I can't quite place it, is she a cleaner or something? No, a cleaner wouldn't be photocopying. I'm confused. I turn up the audio of that camera and I hear music; a man's voice comes on. "Good evening, you're listening to Disco with Dave." The radio is playing. "I've got your number tonight, groovy people. Get ready to party with the best disco tunes of all time," his voice continues. A song comes on, it's catchy and familiar, although I can't place it. The woman in the short Lycra dress begins to wiggle her behind to the beat; she double-bumps to one side and then the other. Hmm, interesting. Leaning on my desk, I press my index finger along my temple as I watch her moving to "Ring My Bell." She's really dancing as she photocopies and I smirk; my eyes drop to her long legs, which are muscular and shapely. Her waist is small and the curve of her hips is accentuated by the way she sashays from side to side. Hmm ... I run the side of my finger over my lips and sit back, totally distracted by the hot ass bumping in the red dress. The way she bounces to the beat is so joyful ... She's dancing like nobody is watching. Only I am, and it's very ... She drops one of her papers and bends over with straight legs to pick it up; I get a full view of her tight ass in her tiny red Lycra shorts. My c0ck twitches, my eyebrows rise in surprise, and I sit forward in my seat, my interest officially piqued. She rolls her hips and a wave of arousal runs through me; I begin to hear my pulse in my ears. The way she dances and moves is so ... Fcking hot. My c0ck pitches a tent in my pants and I inhale sharply. I can't remember the last time a woman aroused me on sight alone. She drops another file and wiggles down to pick it up, and once again I get a full view of her muscular legs and ass. I inhale sharply as she stands, my body imagines what she would feel like, and I rearrange myself in my pants. Delicious. She turns toward the camera and for the first time I see her face; I jump back from my computer. What the fck? It's Blair ... "You ready?" Tristan's voice sounds from behind me. I immediately click out of the footage and shuffle the papers on my desk, completely flustered. "I'll meet you in the lobby," I stammer. "Just got to take care of something." "Okay, don't be long, hey?" Jameson says. I hear them leave in the elevator and I stare at my computer screen in shock. No. Couldn't be. Blair's not hot, she's never been hot. I would have noticed if she was that fvcking hot. My c0ck is thumping, demanding attention, and I guiltily look back at the door to make sure my brothers are gone. Just another quick look ... Wouldn't hurt. It probably wasn't even her. I open the computer screen again and see the red dress bouncing to the beat. It is her. She's facing the camera now and my eyes roam over the way her breasts are bouncing. The curve in her neck, the cinch in her waist. The way her high ponytail moves as she dances. I get a vision of wrapping that ponytail around my hand as I pull her down to suck me off. My c0ck clenches. I shudder with a disgusted shake of my head. Fck ... I need to get laid.
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⚡️✨A clear clause in the surrogacy agreement states: 'No Romance.' The question though is, can they control their hearts? Her ailing mother's wish and his quest for lineage that brings them under one roof: a surrogacy event. 😲👀They strike an offbeat pact: 'A baby yes, but no love.' 😍A journey unknowingly leading them towards an undeniable bond, a connection much more profound than bearing just a child
🥵hookup🔥download Orryn and go for fun with me💦 “You want to lose your virginity? Fine. But not with him.” He didn’t ask to be my first, he demanded it 😳🔥. What started as fake dating turned into stolen glances, real touches, and a tension we couldn’t ignore 💥. My ex dumped me for not being "experienced" but Chase made sure I never felt ashamed of what I hadn’t done 😫. He didn’t just take my v-card, he ruined me for anyone else 🖤. Because once you’ve had a guy who sees you and worships you? You don’t look back 🥵🔥. Chapter 1 The second that plastic Coke bottle pointed at Miles like some cursed compass, I knew we were about to witness a social apocalypse. And honestly? I was kinda here for it—until I realized I was the main character in this disaster movie. My boyfriend Miles was doing his usual thing: arm around me but scrolling TikTok, basically treating me like human furniture. The whole setup screamed “trying too hard”—stolen beakers from chem class filled with flat Sprite, those cheap LED strips everyone orders off Amazon, and music so low you could barely hear it over everyone’s performative giggling. “Bro, this is so aesthetic,” someone whispered, probably filming for their private story. I was already feeling weird—that chest-tight, can’t-breathe thing that happens when you’re pretending everything’s fine but your body’s like “ma’am, we are NOT fine.” But whatever. Smile, laugh at the right moments, don’t be the buzzkill. Standard operating procedure. Jaylen looked half-dead but still chaotic as hell. “Truth or dare, my guy?” Everyone leaned in like this was the Met Gala reveal or something. Miles barely looked up from his phone. “Truth, I guess.” And Jaylen—sweet, stupid Jaylen—grinned like he’d just discovered fire. “So are you two finally gonna hook up tonight or what?” The laughter hit different. Not the good kind. The kind that makes your skin crawl and your stomach drop to your literal ass. I opened my mouth to deflect—classic Zoey move—but Miles beat me to it. “I dunno, ask her. She’s still sa...ho wore bruises like accessories.The one with the family scandal, the broken-home mythology, the brother-shaped silence nobody ever explained. The one Amber has been feverishly obsessed with before she finally gave up and switched to Miles. He wasn’t just hot. He was dangerous like a secret you want to get caught keeping. He tossed a pretzel onto the bench next to me. “Want one?” “Do I look like I want a pretzel right now?” “You look like you need something.” “I need everyone to leave me alone.” “You’ve been alone long enough.” The words just hung there, heavy and unwanted. I could’ve told him to fuck off. Should’ve, probably. But there was something about the way he said it—no pity, no weird savior complex. Just… observation. “Do you always ambush girls when their lives implode?” I asked. “Only the interesting ones.” I let out this bitter laugh. “You don’t even know what happened.” “Don’t need to,” he shrugged. “Whatever it was sucked. You’re radiating damage.” “That obvious?” “To me.” I looked away because his honesty was making my chest feel weird. Everything felt upside down. Like gravity had stopped working properly. But somehow he didn’t feel threatening. He wasn’t trying to fix me or comfort me or feed me bullshit about how everything happens for a reason. “You ever think maybe ‘safe’ is just code for ‘I’m too lazy to actually see you’?” he asked, voice quieter now. My throat burned. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t tell him to leave either. He didn’t push. Just stood there, patient and still, like he had nowhere else to be. Like watching me fall apart was somehow interesting instead of pathetic. “Guess I’ll let you get back to your melancholy,” he said, voice low and lazy, but not unkind. “See you around, heartbreak.” And then he turned—no fanfare, no second look—and strolled off like he hadn’t just cracked something open in me I’d been duct taping shut for weeks. I hated how much I wanted him to stay. What happens when she teams up with the school’s bad boy? 😳🔥 Read Your Rival Saw Me Naked Now! ❤️🔥
Betrayed by his father, his heart is frozen❄️💔 No woman can arouse him❌ Except the innocent nurse😳💉 Never been in love, yet she becomes his cure🔥 He claims her fiercely👐 She tries to flee but falls deeper💖 He's her patient, and her addiction💊 Watch now 👉 🔥Cure Me Consume Me My Dominant Nurse🔥 #GoodShort #InnocentNurse #DominantPatient #Addiction #CureAndDesire
Betrayed by his father, his heart is frozen❄️💔 No woman can arouse him❌ Except the innocent nurse😳💉 Never been in love, yet she becomes his cure🔥 He claims her fiercely👐 She tries to flee but falls deeper💖 He's her patient, and her addiction💊 Watch now 👉 🔥Cure Me Consume Me My Dominant Nurse🔥 #GoodShort #InnocentNurse #DominantPatient #Addiction #CureAndDesire
If you wake up every morning hacking over the bathroom sink for 20 minutes — if your chest rattles when you breathe at night — if you've started taking the elevator because you can't hide how out of breath you get on stairs — read this. You don't have "smoker's lung." You have something 99% of doctors will never tell you about, because they don't understand it themselves. And by the end of this, you'll know exactly why every cough syrup, every inhaler, every "quit smoking" app you've tried did absolutely nothing. I'm not writing this to sell you anything. I'm writing this because two years ago I almost lost my father — and it didn't need to happen. --- My dad's 58. Smoked for 35 years. A pack a day, sometimes more. He's the kind of guy who never complains and never goes to the doctor unless he physically can't function. And that's exactly where he ended up. His mornings started with 30 minutes of coughing over the kitchen sink. Sometimes so violently he'd have to grip the counter and wait it out. My mom could hear it through the walls. He rattled all day. That wet sound in the back of his throat he had to clear every ten minutes — in the car, at dinner, in front of guests. He was tired in a way sleep didn't fix. Not "long day" tired. Asleep on the couch by 7 PM with half his dinner still on the plate. My little nephew asked once why grandpa was always sleeping. Stairs became a problem. Two flights and he'd be at the top wheezing like he'd run a marathon. He started taking the elevator at work. He's a contractor. Contractors don't take elevators. And his chest felt heavy. Literally heavy. Like someone was sitting on it. All day, every day. --- He tried everything. And I mean everything. First the doctor. "You need to quit smoking." Thanks doc, never thought of that. Prescribed an inhaler. Worked for two weeks, then nothing. Then the cough syrups. Every over-the-counter brand on the pharmacy shelf. He drank them like water. Result? The mucus got thinner, but it still wouldn't come up. He just coughed more. A buddy of his swore by steam therapy with eucalyptus oil. Half a month, every night, towel over his head bent over a bowl of boiling water. Felt good for an hour. Same rattle the next morning. Mullein tea from a health food store — $40 a tin. Three months. Zero effect. He tried to quit smoking. Four times. Longest he made it was 11 days. Every product softened a symptom. Not one of them cleared anything out. --- Now here's where I got angry. Because I started asking the question nobody around him was asking: Why does every doctor recommend the same useless inhaler? Why does every "lung supplement" on the market contain the same five ingredients that clearly don't do anything? Why does the pharmaceutical industry have a drug for every problem on earth — except the one killing 8 million people a year? I'll tell you why. Because there's no money in fixing it. There's money in inhalers at $80 a month — for life. There's money in COPD medications at $300 a month — for life. There's money in eventually selling oxygen tanks and hospital beds. The entire respiratory drug industry is built around managing the decline, not reversing it. But there is no patent on actually clearing your lungs out. So they don't tell you it's possible. --- Then I read something that flipped everything I thought I knew. It wasn't from a wellness blog. It wasn't from some TikTok influencer selling detox tea. It was from a respiratory specialist writing in a clinical journal. He wasn't writing about what's in your lungs. He was writing about what's stuck to them. Here's what he described, and what I had never heard anyone explain before: After years of smoking, the inside of your lungs builds up a layer. Not "dirt" in some vague sense — a specific, sticky layer of tar, thickened mucus, and protein residue. That layer is glued to your lung walls. Protein bonds hold it in place. Quitting smoking doesn't remove it. The layer stays. Cough syrup thins the mucus floating above it but never touches the glue underneath. Inhalers open the airway around the layer — they don't remove it. Steam softens the surface and moves on. That layer — which doctors are starting to call "lung glue" — has to be dissolved. Not thinned. Not softened. Dissolved. The way soap dissolves grease off a dirty pan. And until I read that, not a single doctor, not a single cough syrup label, not a single "lung detox" product on Instagram had ever used that word. Dissolve. --- So I went deeper. I wasn't looking for "a lung supplement." I'd seen enough of those. I was looking for something that could actually dissolve that glue. What I found were three ingredients you won't find combined in any drugstore product, anywhere. Mullein. Not the washed-out tea version that sells for $20 a bag. Wildcrafted Mullein at a high concentration — 2,000mg equivalent per dose, in liquid form. Mullein contains saponins that attack the binding proteins in that layer. It's the soap. It breaks the glue apart. Bromelain. You usually only hear about Bromelain in digestive supplements — but there's a second use almost nobody talks about. Bromelain breaks down protein bonds. And that's exactly how lung glue stays attached to your lung walls: protein bonds. So while Mullein dissolves the layer, Bromelain literally snips it loose from the wall. Cordyceps. A high-altitude mushroom used for thousands of years for oxygen capacity. But Cordyceps does something else: it activates the cilia — those tiny hairs in your lungs that are supposed to sweep loosened mucus out. Because dissolving the layer isn't enough. It has to come out. Cordyceps turns the drainage back on. Three steps. Dissolve. Detach. Drain. No other product on the market has all three. Not one. I checked. --- Then I made my mistake. I tried to source the ingredients separately. Three different websites, three different brands. Doses I had to calculate myself. Mullein drops that tasted like licorice gone wrong, Bromelain tablets that wouldn't dissolve, Cordyceps powder I wasn't even sure was real. It cost me $70 a month. For my dad. Then a friend mentioned Airovine. One bottle. All three ingredients, properly dosed, in liquid form you take under the tongue — so it bypasses the digestive system entirely and goes straight into the bloodstream. No capsules waiting to break down in the stomach. No powder mixing. Two drops, once a day. I was skeptical, to be honest. I'd seen too much garbage in this market. But the formulation matched exactly what I'd been piecing together. And it was $34.96. I bought one for my dad. Told him: "Try this for a month. If it doesn't do anything, they refund you. It's in their guarantee." --- Here's what happened. Day 1. He called me that evening. "I don't know if I'm imagining it, but my chest feels lighter. Like something's gone." Day 3. He coughed more than usual. Thick, dark mucus. He called me panicking: "Is this wrong?" I told him: "No dad. That's exactly what's supposed to happen. The layer's coming loose. It has to come out." Two days later, that phase was over. Day 7. My mom called me. "He doesn't cough for 30 minutes in the morning anymore. He gets up and he just... breathes." Day 14. He slept through the night for the first time in years. No more waking up to his own rattling chest. Day 25. He came hiking with me and my brother. Six kilometers, up and down. My dad. At the top of the hill he looked around and said, "I'll be damned. I'm not even out of breath." --- And here's the part that matters most. He still smokes. Less than before, but he still smokes. And his lungs are clearing anyway. Because that's how Airovine actually works — you don't have to overhaul your entire life first to see results. You don't have to white-knuckle through a quit attempt. The drops dissolve the layer either way. That's something no doctor will ever tell you. Because their entire model is built on "first you stop, then maybe you heal." Airovine flips that on its head. --- Now listen to me. I'm telling you this because I don't want your father, or you, or your partner to end up where my dad almost ended up. What no doctor will tell you: that layer in your lungs gets thicker every day. Every cigarette, every pack, every year. Your body doesn't clear it out on its own — not even if you quit. It stays there. And year after year, less of it is mucus and more of it is scar tissue. At some point, it stops being a "smoker's cough." It becomes COPD. And at that point, there's nothing left to undo. No drops, no herbs, no miracles. That point is closer than you think. --- If after 60 days you don't hear, feel, and see what I saw with my dad — full refund. No forms, no questions. That's their guarantee, not mine. But try it. Because the only mistake you can make tonight is scrolling past this and standing over your bathroom sink next month, coughing until your eyes water, thinking: "I really need to do something about this." This is that something. https://airovine.com/products/airovine-mullein-drops
My Alpha mate ripped our unborn child out of my womb, leaving me spread open to the elements. All because of a few forged photos, he believed I’d betrayed him. Without a second thought, he killed our pup right before my eyes—and left me here to die. Blood spilled from me, warm and endless, pooling on the floor as my life slipped away. That’s when she walked in— Shannon, my stepsister, the architect of my ruin. “Please don’t do this.” I begged over and over, but no one was listening. I thrashed against their hold, but nothing. “I am your luna.” I screamed at the top of my lungs, but then his laugh from the other room broke all the fight in me. “Luke please.” I begged once more time, my voice horse. “Kill it once it’s done. Toss her out. She will have to survive on her own from here on out.” He can’t mean that. This was our baby. “Our baby.” “Is a mistake from the moon goddess. One I will rectify.” His voice called again from the other room. He wouldn’t even face me. “Now do it. That’s an order.” “Yes, Alpha.” It was a mistake to come here. It was a mistake to give him everything. “Oh, and doctor?” Her sweet voice called from the other room. My stepsister, Shannon. I gritted my teeth. “Don’t use any anesthetic. She should feel everything.” “Yes, Luna.” The doctor turned back to me with sad eyes, but when he picked up the scalpel, I knew I was in trouble. I’m sorry, baby. Momma couldn’t save you. She wanted you so, so much. I tried to rub my stomach, but the nurses had strapped me down. When the doctor approached, I realized he was using a silver blade. “Silver?” My whisper was almost silent, but he nodded. I knew then that Shannon didn’t want me to survive. She wanted my life so badly that she lied about me cheating on my mate, showing photos as proof. But I never touched another wolf, nor would I again, not after this betrayal. Why, Moon Goddess, why would you give him to me just to take him away? My pup. I cried silently as the doctor cut into my abdomen, and I felt my baby thrash inside. He knew it was too early to be born. This was a death sentence for both of us. “Bring me the body of the pup.” “Yes Alpha.” I felt every slice as he cut into me, and finally I could take it no longer. I started to scream, soon I felt the blvvd trickling down my side, every drip off of me hitting the floor. I thrashed against the restraints. But the silver had made me weak. I’m sorry, baby. They weren’t trying to keep me alive, which I expected, but I wished wasn’t true. I used to love my mate, but I felt the love die in me when I saw my pup being ripped from my belly. “Please, let me hold him once.” I tried to move my arms to reach for him, but I was still tied down. The doctor, who was shedding tears, brought my pup and laid him on my chest. He was perfect. I rubbed his scent on my face and mine on his. He would forever be a part of my soul. My missing piece. “Doctor, now.” “Yes Alpha.” The doctor picked the baby up and rushed out, leaving me spread open to the elements. I felt my life slipping away as the door opened and Shannon came in. Her smug smile was firmly in place. “I told you I would take your life, Amy. I would have your mate. And I have, over and over, since he found out of your betrayal.” Shannon walked over and laid a kiss on my face as I snarled. “He is perfection. And don’t worry. I will give him another son.” She laid her hand on her stomach and I started to laugh. “What’s so funny?” “I can smell the beta on you. That’s Derek’s child, and it’s a girl. Nice try though.” She snarled and raised her hand, growing her claws to deliver the final blow, but the door was ripped open and my mate, the man I now hated most in the world, stepped inside. His eyes were red, and I started to laugh again. “You s1vt!” He snarled and struck out, whipping Shannon to the other side of the room. “Brandon!” Shannon shrieked as she hit the wall. “What’s wrong?” She staggered to her feet, but more blvvd dripped out of me and I closed my eyes. “You lied!” He screamed, shaking the walls as his aura struck out, but I could barely feel it. I felt the silver traveling in my veins getting closer to my sluggish heart. “This was my pup. I can smell me on him. He was mine.” Brandon’s eyes grew redder as the tears gathered. “You said she cheated on me and that it wasn’t my pup.” “She did cheat on you. I guess I was wrong about the pup.” “You said you smelt it.” From the sound of it, he lunged for her again, but him clutching our baby in his arm was the last thing I saw. And I wanted to never see it again. He did this to us. Not Shannon. She played her part well, sure, but him not believing me, not waiting for a few more days to smell the pup, that was his fault. And all of our downfalls. I prayed for the moon goddess to take me. I no longer wanted to be here. I wanted to be with my pup. “Save her.” “No!” Shannon screamed. “I am the Luna now, you marked me last night.” Ah, so that was the pain I felt last night. His betrayal had bile shoot into my mouth. “I am bearing your pup.” I started to laugh again. I cracked my eyes to see my mate, Brandon, lingering next to me. “Stay with me Amy.” “Beta’s baby. She is with…the beta.” I choked out the words and laughed as horror bloomed in his eyes. Blvvd flew from my mouth as I smiled again. “Save her.” “No!” I slammed out, putting all of my power in it. “Don’t move.” I used my Alpha strength to freeze everyone, including my mate. “How?” Brandon looked down at me, pleading. “Let me save you.” “I am descended from the Moon Goddess, and you don’t deserve to save me. You don’t deserve our pup. You were weak. And now you lost everything.” I smiled up at him as I felt my life from my body. And then I was free. I opened my eyes to find myself surprisingly alive. “Amy hurry, you’re going to be late.” I jolted up and look around, confused. What was going on? Where was I? “Amy!” The voice called again and I shook myself. I stood up from the bed and looked around again. I recognized this room. It was my childhood bedroom. I hadn’t stepped foot in this room since I found my mate, Brandon. I heard a knock on the door and my mother opened it. Before I could process what was happening, I ran into my mother’s arms. “Mom, you’re here.” I started to cry. “I’ve missed you so much.” “Amy. My girl.” She laughed as she patted my back. “I saw you yesterday.” She pulled back and I looked into her amber eyes that matched my own. “Happy birthday, baby.” I leaned into her hands and realized that today was the last day I spent at home. I found my mate on my eighteenth birthday. “Thank you, mom.” “Hopefully, you will meet your mate today and start your new life.” She smiled at me and I felt my blvvd freeze. I didn’t want to meet Brandon. Not when I knew what was going to happen. “I’d rather stay here with you.” I smiled as I kissed her cheek. “I don’t want to miss you and Morgan. And I knew that when Brandon thought I cheated on him, before he killed my baby and me. He killed my mother for her involvement. Shannon’s father, my mother’s husband, watched her die. Don’t get me wrong I knew he loved my mother, and he was hurting, but his scheming daughter was the cause of all of this. He stood by and watched it all happen. I understood why he supported his daughter, but I didn’t like it, nor him, for that matter. “Baby. You won’t miss us. We will be there every step of the way.” She kissed my cheek, and I wrapped my fingers around hers. “Mom, can we just leave? You and me? Leave Shannon and Morgan and move back to daddy’s pack?” My father, the Alpha of the Silvermoon pack, wasn’t a good husband, but he was a good man. He cheated on my mother, betraying her when he was drunk. But he swore it was a mistake. It was another Alpha’s maneuverings to break them up, but my mother said it didn’t matter. It was too late. His betrayal cost the life of my brother growing inside of her, and she refused to move past it. “No baby. I can’t go back.” My mother’s face fell as she turned away. “I don’t want to be betrayed, mom. Not like you and not any worse. I don’t want a mate.” I whispered my new truth. “Mates don’t hurt each other, baby.” She tried to smile but I shook. I knew exactly what mates do to each other. “Would you be made if I refused my mate?” “God no baby. The Moon Goddess makes a path clear, but it is up to us to choose it. If you don’t want your mate, you can reject him.” “And if it is the Alpha’s son?” My mother looked at me. She knew that if it was the Alpha’s son, I would be in trouble. They wouldn’t allow me to leave. An Alpha has to mate his first mate, even for a day to come into his full power. “What do you know?” I watched as her eyes searched mine. I pulled her back into my room and away from the door. “I don’t know for sure, but I am terrified that if I am mated to Shannon’s boyfriend, I will die after we are mated. Mom, the chances that he will match with an Alpha far outweigh the chance that he is mated to the daughter of the beta.” I pulled back. “I don’t want this for me.” She weighed my words, and I watched as she came to the same conclusion. “Okay baby. But you can’t leave. It would be too conspicuous. You will have to mask your scent whenever he is around.” I tossed my hands in the air. “How would I do that?” “There is much you don’t know that I would leave in the past but if you are sure…” She trailed off and I just nodded my head. “Then let me make a few calls. You don’t have to go to school today.” I lept back into her arms. “Thank you, mom. I don’t know what I would do without you.” “I love you, baby. You will never be without me. That I can promise you.” She kissed my cheek and then left me alone in my room. I ran to my phone and checked the date to make sure. It was twenty eighteen; I went back six years. Six years to the day that I met Brandon. I could relive everything, make better choices. I could live, and maybe this time around, so would my pup. I rubbed my flat stomach. “Don’t worry, my pup. This time around, no one will hurt you.” I went into my ensuite and jumped into the shower. No way was I going to face today, looking like I just crawled out of bed. I stood in side my closet in a towel trying to figure out what to wear when I heard my bedroom door open. I was about to turn and call out to my mother, but I heard a soft step, which my mother wouldn’t do. So I hid behind my winter coats and I waited. “I’m telling you, if she is Brandon’s mate, I’m going to kill her.” “You can’t mean that, Shan.” The nasily voice of Megan, Shannon’s best friend, came from the cell phone pressed to her ear. “Of course I do. Brandon is mine.” “Only because you put out. He was hoping Shannon would notice him.” “You shut your mouth, Megan.” Shannon snarled and her eyes flashed. “He’s mine.” “Whatever I gotta go. Hurry up before I leave you behind,” Megan called, and then the line went dead. A honk sounded from outside and Shannon was snatching something before I grabbed her hand. “What do you think you’re doing in my closet?” “Amy?” Shannon’s mouth dropped out. I squeezed her hand until I heard a crack. Her scream was muffled by my hand. “You’re lucky I only broke one finger. You just threatened to kill me. Didn’t I hear that correctly? A beta’s daughter threatening an alpha.” I tsked. “I didn’t do anything.” She snarled back at me as her hand reformed. “Lie again and I will break all of your fingers and hold them while the bones heal.” I couldn’t stop my grin as I felt her tremble. “Did you threaten me?” “Yes.” she screamed at me. “You’re going to take Brandon from me.” “I don’t want your pathetic alpha now or ever. Keep him.” I pushed her away. “Now get out of my room before I change my mind about maiming you.” I turned back to my clothes and picked out low-rise jeans and a tank top. “What is your problem?” “You. Now leave.” I let my wolf come forward and my eyes flashed. I pushed my alpha command into my words and forcing her out of my room. Stupid woman. How dare she come into my room to take something of mine? My wolf growled lowly. This was our den. I shook myself and refocused. Closing the doors, I hopped back into bed, pulling out my phone. I tried to remember everything that had happened in the last six years that could help me with my plan. Because make no mistake, Brandon and Shannon would pay. “Pack your bags, Amy.” My mom came in, surprising me from the list I was making. “What?” I looked up. “Why?” “You are going to spend the summer with your father. I already got the approval from the Alpha.” Mom smiled down at me. “Come on, baby. Pack your bag and get ready.” I jumped to my feet and ran to my mom. “I can go?” “Just for the summer, baby, then you will be back here with me. I had to promise that you would be returning here.” I pouted. “Mom, I really don’t want to be here.” I wanted to make them pay, but I wouldn’t risk him finding me. “It’s okay baby, you will understand once you see your dad.” She patted my hair and kissed my cheek. “Now get ready.” “Okay mom.” I kissed her back then she left me alone. I grabbed my phone to lock it and then turned back to my closet. I packed my bag and then headed into my bathroom when I heard the downstairs door slam open. “I knew it.” I heard Shannon scream down stairs. I ignored her as I grabbed everything from my bathroom and then I grabbed my laptop and chargers. I stuffed everything in to my backpack and headed downstairs. “Shannon, why are you screaming?” Morgan was at the table with his coffee, and my mom was running around when I pushed my suitcase into the room. “I’m not Brandon’s mate, daddy.” Shannon flew into the room and dove into his arms. “How are you so sure?” Morgan wrapped his arms around her, but I just snickered. She snapped her eyes to me and she flew at me. “It’s you. You stupid wh0'Re.” Shannon tried to claw out my eyes. But I just sent her flying with a backhand. “Amy!” Morgan got to his feet but my mom tsked. “Morgan, you can’t yell at Amy for protecting herself. Shan attacked her first.” My mom placed my breakfast on the table. “Amy, Come eat. You have a long day ahead.” “Babe? Why does Amy have a suitcase?” “She is going away for the summer. To her fathers.” My mother turned to me and opened her arms. “Come baby. Come eat. The car is coming and you need to be ready to go.” I walked over and sat down, and dug in. “Why is she going to her dads?” Morgan walked over to pick Shannon up. “She wanted to spend the summer with her dads before college and who am I to say no?” My mom smiled down at me and I smiled back at her. I didn’t know what was going to happen this summer to protect me from Brandon finding out I was his mate, but I needed it. Whatever it was, I needed it. “Yeah, my dad called me this morning and since I haven’t seen him since Christmas break and when he offered to fly me out, I asked my mom.” I smiled sweetly over at Morgan, and Shannon smiled. “You’re leaving?” Shannon stood up. “Yup. I’ll be gone the full summer.” I smirked over at her. “But my room is locked, and it will stay that way.” My smile dropped away as I stared at her and used my alpha command. “Amy!” Morgan yelled out. “You know you’re not allowed to alpha command your step sister!” “And I wouldn’t have Morgan, if I hadn’t found her in my room this morning, trying to take things out of my closet.” I turned and raised my eyebrow, daring her to try to lie. “Is that true?” Morgan looked down at Shannon and I just stared at her. I watch her open her mouth to deny it. “I wouldn’t lie. I’ll just command you to tell the truth.” She screeched and stomped her foot. “Yes!” she screamed. “Are you happy? Yes, I went into her closet to steal some clothes because I know she is Brandon’s mate.” “How?” I threw up my hands, playing like I didn’t know the truth. “How could you possibly know that I am his mate? Neither of us has scented each other.” “Because he scented you on me!” Her voice was hitting a higher octave, and my ears were starting to hurt. “Calm down. You’re hurting everyone’s ears and just explain yourself.” My mom sat next to me at the table, rubbing her head. “Last month, Brandon turned eighteen, and I was wearing Amy’s dress. He scented around me and said I smelt divine. But when I’m not wearing her clothes, he has zero interest in me.” Shannon pouted. “So he likes the way I smell, doesn’t mean we are mates.” I pointed out. Completely and utterly denouncing Brandon as a mate. If I didn’t accept him, he would never be my mate anyway, and I would never accept him. That was the only thing I was sure of. Brandon would be the last male I would ever touch this time around. “Stop being obtuse Amy. We all know what it means when a wolf likes your smell.” Shannon started to cry and buried her head in her hands. “He’s the male I want, daddy. The only one I would ever accept. But he wants her.” She pointed to me. I scoffed. “I don’t want your sloppy seconds, Shannon. Even if he was my mate, and I am not saying he is. It would be a cold day in hell before I accepted him as a mate. I would take the Lycan King over Brandon.” I threw my head back and laughed when she gasped. The Lycan king was the bogeyman of all wolves. The last Lycan to exist and one who lives in the wild. It’s said the only wolves that ever see his face are the council that oversees the packs. But either way, I wasn’t lying. I would take the King as a mate before I would even look in Brandon’s vicinity. “You’re lying. He’s the alpha.” “And?” “Everyone wants to be the luna.” “Idiots want to be the luna.” I turned back and finished my food as Morgan calmed her down. My mom stood when she heard a horn. “That’s for you.” I nodded as I stood and kissed my mother goodbye before I left. I slipped into the back of the car after putting my bags in the back and buckled in. I had barely taken a breath before I launched myself over the seats and into the driver’s arms. His laugh made my eyes prickle. “Hey love bug.” “Uncle Ronnie. I’ve missed you.” I climbed over the seats and sat up front. “What are you doing here?” Ronnie was my dad’s beta. Not related, but he had been there for most of my life. “You think I was going to let my cheeky niece come to pack lands alone? Not on your life.” “Dad sent you?” I laughed. “Dad sent me. He is a worry wart your da.” He smiled over and laughed with me. “As soon as your mom called, he sent me with the jet.” “He didn’t have to.” I just shook my head and buckled my seatbelt. “Of course he did. He never gets to see you enough, and now you’re sending in the summer. What’s going on?” My uncle looked at me and I just shook my head. “I don’t want to be here.” “Why?” I looked down at my hands that were twisted. “I’m afraid that my mate is here and I don’t want to be right. I figured if I ran away, I could push off the inevitability.” “Why wouldn; t you want your mate?” My uncle asked as he zipped down the highway toward the airport. “I’ll tell both you and dad, just not now.” My uncle looked over at me, searching my face and then nodding. “Fine, but I want the full story.” “You will get it, I swear.” I nodded back to the road. “Now focus on driving so you don’t kill us.” I grabbed the wheel, swerving back into our own lane. Uncle Ronnie grabbed the wheel from me and focused back on the road. “I just worry about you, pup.” I couldn’t stop the laugh because wolves stopped aging at twenty-five, and he looked barely older than me. “I know you do.” I settled back into my seat and sighed. “I promise, what happened isn’t going to make that feeling any better.” I wiped at my face. “I don’t even know why my mom is sending me to my dad. She just said that he could help me.” “Well, let’s hurry and get back so we can figure out what you need, Sugar.” My uncle hit the gas, and we ended up at the airport in no time. We loaded my bags and headed up to the jet, settling in there. “Close your eyes. You look like you barely slept today and we have a few hours.” My uncle patted my head before he sat across from me and opened his laptop. “Work?” “Work.” He nodded. “This summer, can you teach me some stuff?” A plan was forming in my mind, a plan not only to keep myself free from my pathetic mate, but one that would make me a lot of money. “Of course, Sugar.” My uncle smiled up at me. “You know, your dad would teach you just about everything he could if you were open to it.” “I asked to move to your pack.” I snuggled into the blanket the flight attendant handed me, and Ronnie froze. “What is going on?” His eyes flashed. “I’ll explain later. Just promise you will try to believe me and not judge me.” “Of course, Sugar.” He smiled and then turned back to the laptop. “Now get some sleep.” “Will do.” I turned away and fell asleep almost instantly. I woke up to Ronnie shaking me. “We are here.” I gave an enormous yawn and cracked my jaw before wiping my eyes. “Okay.” I handed off the blanket and wiped my face again. “Thank you.” “No problem, Princess.” The flight attendant smiled down at me, and I realized belatedly that she was from the pack too. “You don’t have to call me Princess.” “You are the Alpha’s daughter.” She bowed and then left us to our own devices. “Come on, your dad has already linked me three times since landing.” Ronnie laughed and whisked me off to the waiting car. With in thirty minutes we were at our pack lands. “You dad would allow you to move here if you wanted to, Sugar.” “I know. But Alpha Vince won’t allow me to leave…” I looked over and blew out a breath. “I think he assumes something I am running from and won’t let me leave until he knows for sure.” “You going to tell me yet, Sugar.” I hesitated as we pulled up out front of the pack house. Before I could answer the door was ripped open and I was surrounded by powerful arms and a smell that made my quaking insides settle. “Dad.” “Hey my pup.” His deep voice calmed me further, and I could feel my eyes prickle. “I’ve missed you.” I sniffled as he unbuckled my seat belt and I was in his arms fully. “As I have missed you.” He kissed my temple. “Now we have much to discuss.” He was running with me before I could utter another word, with Ronnie following behind. “Slow down. Some of us can’t move that fast.” Ronnie struggled to keep up and my laughter filled the halls of the pack house. We settled in my father’s office with an out of breath Ronnie, who was scowling. God, I missed these two. “Tell me what’s wrong, pup.” I looked around and still I stumbled over my words. My father grabbed my face and shook his head. “Nothing you tell me will change anything, pup. I believe you, no matter how crazy it seems.” “Agreed Sugar.” My insides settled when I saw how resolute he was. He would believe my craziness. I could tell no matter how crazy my story was, my father and Ronnie would believe everything I said. I never had to second guess if I was going crazy here. So finally I settled fully and told my story.
Sr. Andrade, Você Não Dá Conta! Emília se casa com Ruan Andrade, mas acaba descobrindo a traição dele com a atriz Viviane Duarte e decide pedir o divórcio. Buscando sua independência, ela retorna ao mundo da atuação e conhece Guilherme Montenegro, amigo de Ruan. Entre mal-entendidos e conflitos, a verdade vem à tona. Quando Ruan se fere gravemente ao tentar salvar Emília, os dois deixam o passado para trás. Eles se reconciliam e decidem recomeçar juntos, abrindo um novo capítulo em suas vidas.
My cock was about to explode from the drugs I'd been given. And then she walked in— Aria, my brother-in-law’s quiet ex. Holding that damn charity check I’d sent her. “Gray, I only wanted—” I didn’t let her finish. My mouth was on hers, my hands tearing at her clothes. The check floated to the floor. “Stop,” she gasped into my skin. I couldn’t. I pushed inside her. A raw, searing tightness. A choked cry. “Christ. You’re untouched.” But it was too late. I was already lost. Her cries faded into my ragged breath, her body yielding beneath mine. I was still hard. Aria had passed out, but I was still buried deep inside her… I had to move. “It’s not over,” I growled, driving into her again. “I’ll make it right.I’ll buy you a whole damn building.” Her nails scored down my back as she shuddered. I collapsed over her, our skin slick. In the silence, my lips found her ear. “Tomorrow,” I breathed, voice shattered. “We talk about what you are now.” 👉(When you open the App, it will automatically jump to the book.)"
Fırtınalı bir gecede kurtarıldığında, bunun kader olduğunu düşündü. Bilmiyordu ki, bu onun kabusunun başlangıcıydı. 💔 Gerçeği keşfettiğinde, kendisine tıpatıp benzeyen bir fotoğrafı okşadığını görünce kalbi paramparça oldu. Üç yıllık evlilik sadece acınası bir taklitti. Bu sahte maskeyi nasıl yırtacak ve kibirli adama her şeyini kaybetmenin acısını nasıl tattıracak? 👉 💥🖤 ——Daha fazlasını izleyin—— 🎬Sadece Playlet APP'de 💥TÜM BÖLÜMLERİ izlemek için Playlet'i şimdi indirin💥!
Fırtınalı bir gecede kurtarıldığında, bunun kader olduğunu düşündü. Bilmiyordu ki, bu onun kabusunun başlangıcıydı. 💔 Gerçeği keşfettiğinde, kendisine tıpatıp benzeyen bir fotoğrafı okşadığını görünce kalbi paramparça oldu. Üç yıllık evlilik sadece acınası bir taklitti. Bu sahte maskeyi nasıl yırtacak ve kibirli adama her şeyini kaybetmenin acısını nasıl tattıracak? 👉 💥🖤 ——Daha fazlasını izleyin—— 🎬Sadece Playlet APP'de 💥TÜM BÖLÜMLERİ izlemek için Playlet'i şimdi indirin💥!
My cock was about to explode from the drugs I'd been given. And then she walked in— Aria, my brother-in-law’s quiet ex. Holding that damn charity check I’d sent her. “Gray, I only wanted—” I didn’t let her finish. My mouth was on hers, my hands tearing at her clothes. The check floated to the floor. “Stop,” she gasped into my skin. I couldn’t. I pushed inside her. A raw, searing tightness. A choked cry. “Christ. You’re untouched.” But it was too late. I was already lost. Her cries faded into my ragged breath, her body yielding beneath mine. I was still hard. Aria had passed out, but I was still buried deep inside her… I had to move. “It’s not over,” I growled, driving into her again. “I’ll make it right.I’ll buy you a whole damn building.” Her nails scored down my back as she shuddered. I collapsed over her, our skin slick. In the silence, my lips found her ear. “Tomorrow,” I breathed, voice shattered. “We talk about what you are now.” 👉(When you open the App, it will automatically jump to the book.)"
Binge short dramas daily! Hot romance, revenge, mystery & more—new episodes added every day
Binge short dramas daily! Hot romance, revenge, mystery & more—new episodes added every day
Binge short dramas daily! Hot romance, revenge, mystery & more—new episodes added every day
Binge short dramas daily! Hot romance, revenge, mystery & more—new episodes added every day
🥵hookup🔥download yami-pro and go for fun with me💦 “You want to lose your virginity? Fine. But not with him.” He didn’t ask to be my first, he demanded it 😳🔥. What started as fake dating turned into stolen glances, real touches, and a tension we couldn’t ignore 💥. My ex dumped me for not being "experienced" but Chase made sure I never felt ashamed of what I hadn’t done 😫. He didn’t just take my v-card, he ruined me for anyone else 🖤. Because once you’ve had a guy who sees you and worships you? You don’t look back 🥵🔥. Chapter 1 The second that plastic Coke bottle pointed at Miles like some cursed compass, I knew we were about to witness a social apocalypse. And honestly? I was kinda here for it—until I realized I was the main character in this disaster movie. My boyfriend Miles was doing his usual thing: arm around me but scrolling TikTok, basically treating me like human furniture. The whole setup screamed “trying too hard”—stolen beakers from chem class filled with flat Sprite, those cheap LED strips everyone orders off Amazon, and music so low you could barely hear it over everyone’s performative giggling. “Bro, this is so aesthetic,” someone whispered, probably filming for their private story. I was already feeling weird—that chest-tight, can’t-breathe thing that happens when you’re pretending everything’s fine but your body’s like “ma’am, we are NOT fine.” But whatever. Smile, laugh at the right moments, don’t be the buzzkill. Standard operating procedure. Jaylen looked half-dead but still chaotic as hell. “Truth or dare, my guy?” Everyone leaned in like this was the Met Gala reveal or something. Miles barely looked up from his phone. “Truth, I guess.” And Jaylen—sweet, stupid Jaylen—grinned like he’d just discovered fire. “So are you two finally gonna hook up tonight or what?” The laughter hit different. Not the good kind. The kind that makes your skin crawl and your stomach drop to your literal ass. I opened my mouth to deflect—classic Zoey move—but Miles beat me to it. “I dunno, ask her. She’s still saving it for marriage or whatever.” The room exploded. Not cute giggles anymore. Full-on cackling. I felt my soul leave my body and hover somewhere near the ceiling, watching this train wreck in real time. “Excuse me, what the actual fuck?” My voice came out all breathy and weird. Miles didn’t even blink. “Come on, Z. Don’t act shocked. We’ve been together for two years. At some point you gotta stop being scared of your own body.” Dead silence. The kind that makes your ears ring. Amber Mays—because OF COURSE that pick-me girl was there—smirked from her little spot on the floor, looking like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment. Girl probably had her whole strategy planned out. I know she’s had her eye set on Miles for a while now. I stood up so fast I got dizzy. Everything felt wrong—my hands, my legs, the air itself. Like I was underwater but also on fire. I just knew I had to get out before I completely lost it in front of everyone. Miles followed me into the hallway, his footsteps echoing off the lockers like some horror movie soundtrack. “Zoey, wait up,” he called out, casual as hell. “I didn’t mean to embarrass you.” I whipped around so fast. “Then what the hell WAS that?” He ran his hand through his hair—that thing he does when he’s about to say something that’ll ruin my entire week. “I just… I can’t keep doing this anymore.” “Doing what exactly?” “Waiting for you to grow up.” The audacity. THE AUDACITY. “You’re still acting like we’re in middle school,” he continued, like he was explaining basic math to a toddler. “Everything’s rules and college apps and five-year plans. I need someone who’s actually fun.” I stared at him. Actually stared. “So you’re dumping me because I won’t sleep with you?” “No,” he said, and somehow this was worse. “I’m dumping you because you’re boring, Zoey. You’re safe. And I’m over being safe.” He turned around and walked away like he hadn’t just nuked my entire existence. And when I looked through those glass doors? He was already next to Amber, whispering in her ear like I’d never existed. Two years. TWO YEARS. I helped him write his college essays. I went to every single one of his lacrosse games, even the away ones that were like three hours in his mom’s minivan. I gave him everything except the one thing he decided was the only thing that mattered. I don’t remember walking to the courtyard. One second I was staring through those doors, the next I was sitting on a freezing bench with a crumpled flyer about senior pictures stuck to my shoe. “Capture the moment!” it said. Yeah, I’d like to capture this moment and delete it from existence, thanks. My phone was dead—obviously—and my hands were shaking like I’d had twelve Red Bulls. I folded myself into a little ball and tried not to think about how I was gonna face everyone tomorrow. How I was gonna survive the group chat blowing up. How I was gonna explain to my mom why Miles wasn’t coming to family dinner anymore. “You’ve got that haunted look. Long night?” I jerked my head up so fast I saw stars. Some guy was there—leaning against the bench across from me like he owned the shadows, hoodie slouched just enough to hint at sharp collarbones, one hand deep in his pocket, the other holding a bag of pretzels like it was a cigarette in a noir film. The streetlamp carved gold out of his cheekbones. His eyes flicked up, slow and deliberate, and locked on mine. It was like being hit by a song I didn’t know I loved yet. “What?” He tilted his head, smiling—not sweet, not safe. “You know,” he said, completely unbothered, “girl alone in the dark, emotional damage at peak levels. Very indie music video vibes. All you need is a cigarette and some pretentious caption about how love is dead.” “Do I know you?” I squinted at him through the dark. He stepped forward just a little—close enough that I could catch the trace of something expensive on his hoodie, something unruly and male and magnetic. His mouth curved. “Not yet. Chase Donovan.” Oh. OH. That Chase Donovan. The one teachers sighed about and girls got reckless over. The one who’d been in more fights than classes last semester, who wore bruises like accessories.The one with the family scandal, the broken-home mythology, the brother-shaped silence nobody ever explained. The one Amber has been feverishly obsessed with before she finally gave up and switched to Miles. He wasn’t just hot. He was dangerous like a secret you want to get caught keeping. He tossed a pretzel onto the bench next to me. “Want one?” “Do I look like I want a pretzel right now?” “You look like you need something.” “I need everyone to leave me alone.” “You’ve been alone long enough.” The words just hung there, heavy and unwanted. I could’ve told him to fuck off. Should’ve, probably. But there was something about the way he said it—no pity, no weird savior complex. Just… observation. “Do you always ambush girls when their lives implode?” I asked. “Only the interesting ones.” I let out this bitter laugh. “You don’t even know what happened.” “Don’t need to,” he shrugged. “Whatever it was sucked. You’re radiating damage.” “That obvious?” “To me.” I looked away because his honesty was making my chest feel weird. Everything felt upside down. Like gravity had stopped working properly. But somehow he didn’t feel threatening. He wasn’t trying to fix me or comfort me or feed me bullshit about how everything happens for a reason. “You ever think maybe ‘safe’ is just code for ‘I’m too lazy to actually see you’?” he asked, voice quieter now. My throat burned. I didn’t answer, but I didn’t tell him to leave either. He didn’t push. Just stood there, patient and still, like he had nowhere else to be. Like watching me fall apart was somehow interesting instead of pathetic. “Guess I’ll let you get back to your melancholy,” he said, voice low and lazy, but not unkind. “See you around, heartbreak.” And then he turned—no fanfare, no second look—and strolled off like he hadn’t just cracked something open in me I’d been duct taping shut for weeks. I hated how much I wanted him to stay. What happens when she teams up with the school’s bad boy? 😳🔥 Read Your Rival Saw Me Naked Now! ❤️🔥
My cock was about to explode from the drugs I'd been given. And then she walked in— Aria, my brother-in-law’s quiet ex. Holding that damn charity check I’d sent her. “Gray, I only wanted—” I didn’t let her finish. My mouth was on hers, my hands tearing at her clothes. The check floated to the floor. “Stop,” she gasped into my skin. I couldn’t. I pushed inside her. A raw, searing tightness. A choked cry. “Christ. You’re untouched.” But it was too late. I was already lost. Her cries faded into my ragged breath, her body yielding beneath mine. I was still hard. Aria had passed out, but I was still buried deep inside her… I had to move. “It’s not over,” I growled, driving into her again. “I’ll make it right.I’ll buy you a whole damn building.” Her nails scored down my back as she shuddered. I collapsed over her, our skin slick. In the silence, my lips found her ear. “Tomorrow,” I breathed, voice shattered. “We talk about what you are now.” 👉(When you open the App, it will automatically jump to the book.)"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together." Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope." The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
Thinking about those strong hands gripping my sl1m w@ist, those lÜscious l1ps... ChiLLs r@ce across my skin as I imagine his b0dy against mine. “Teresa Sullivan!” shouts the conductor, snapping me out of my trance. Off the train and back home, I’m grateful for the distance from my arranged husband. Craving a breath of fresh air, I’m happy to spend the holiday out of the city and back with my people. As we set the turkey down on the table, I finally let out a sigh of relief. -------------------------------------- Chapter 1 Love Dies With One Final Snap Teresa Sullivan returned to Brocade Villa at 10 pm. The full moon marked her ovulation day, the 15th. Ever since her daughter Yolanda Logan was born, her in-laws had been pressuring her for another child. Most women would have laughed it off, saying there was no throne to inherit. But the Logans were different. As Riverdale's wealthiest family, their billion-dollar empire demanded a male heir. When Teresa stepped into the bedroom, her husband, Charles Logan, was already showered and ready. No pleasantries, no small talk, they went straight to business. Three minutes later, Charles went to the bathroom. When he returned, Teresa remained still in bed. He dressed with his back to her, tossing the words over his shoulder, "Test on schedule. Call me if it's positive." For five years, he had always treated her with such bare minimum of speech. Their marriage existed only on paper, while Charles openly maintained his relationship with his mistress. Teresa spent sleepless nights combing through his social media, tracing every digital footprint until she found the other woman's profile. Since then, she checked it compulsively, like picking at a scab that would never heal. Before the second-child plan, Teresa could hardly see Charles in person. She could only track her husband's life through the other woman's posts: lavish meals, exotic vacations, birthday celebrations. Now they met exactly once a month, like clockwork. Knowing Charles was eager to leave, Teresa quickly stood up. "Wait," she said, her voice catching. "We need to talk." Her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at his back. Charles slowly turned, his face a mask of cold indifference. "About what?" he asked, the words sharp as broken glass. Teresa's voice dropped to a whisper. "I want to make this work," she pleaded, knowing deep down it was probably too late. But she had to try. She had fought too hard for this marriage, for their family. Their daughter deserved better than failed parents. Charles showed no reaction. Teresa couldn't tell if he hadn't heard or was deliberately ignoring her. He finished buttoning his shirt, fastened his watch, and headed for the door without a word. This time, Teresa stayed by the bed. No desperate hugs. No pleading for him to stay. The old habits had died quietly. Just as Charles reached for the doorknob, Teresa's composure shattered. "You only come to Brocade Villa once a month," she cried, her voice cracking. "No calls. No meals together. We're complete strangers. Tell me, Charles, what kind of marriage even is this?" Charles stopped, turning just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes stayed dry as hers overflowed. "When you're carrying my son," he said flatly, "I'll return." The door clicked shut behind him. Teresa didn't move. For the first time, she let him walk away. She had poured her whole heart into this marriage. The birth of their daughter nearly killed her, with doctors issuing three critical warnings during her amniotic fluid embolism. Still, she had been willing to risk death again for a son. Now, standing alone in their empty bedroom, she started to wonder whether this sacrifice meant anything. After her shower, Teresa automatically grabbed her phone and opened the video app. The "Frequently Viewed" list showed just one account named YatesDaily, with its cheerful profile picture. A new post had gone up two minutes ago. The video displayed two shadowy figures under a streetlight, holding hands with matching bracelets. The caption read, [Two shadows under the light. One is mine. The other is also mine.] Her heart wrenched a bit, but quietly now. Where there once was a hurricane, only ripples remained. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the feeling. These days, their meetings always ended the same way with Charles rushing off to see the other woman. But when the emotion faded, she clung to one certainty. As long as Charles needed her to bear his heir, no one could replace her as Mrs. Logan. But this hollow marriage was a bitter pill she had to keep swallowing day after lonely day. ***** A month later, on a chilly Tuesday evening, Teresa rushed into Brocade Villa, the still-warm pregnancy test report crumpled in her sweaty palm. Her heart pounded, not from running but from the two bold lines that changed everything. Tonight, she would finally have news worth celebrating. As Teresa stepped into the living room, her mother-in-law's sharp voice cut through the air, freezing her in the doorway. "Charles, you're 32," Roselyn Lockwood said. "Five years married and only one daughter. Meeting your wife once a month? How's she supposed to get pregnant like that? If it's really not working, let your mistress try. Any boy with Logan blood will do." Charles immediately rejected the idea, "That's not acceptable." Teresa stepped back, hiding in the shadows. For a brief moment, her heart fluttered, because Charles was standing up for her. After all, she remained his lawful wife, regardless of his affairs. But then his tone shifted, clinical and cold, "Remember her embolism during Yolanda's birth?" Roselyn's face darkened. "And who brought this curse into our home? The Logans never had such shame before." Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. "Other wives pop out babies like it's nothing. But our precious Teresa? One birth and we're the talk of the town for days. Humiliating!" Charles completely ignored his mother's complaints. Instead, he explained, "Childbirth is dangerous. Teresa has already been through it once. She can handle the risk. But Naomi is still young. I can't let her take that chance." Teresa stood rooted outside the door, shock coursing through her like electricity. She felt sad, but the tears wouldn't come. Knowing Charles had betrayed her and that their marriage was broken, she still had clung to the naive hope that a second child might bind him to her and that the Logan name would protect her. Now reality struck, colder and harsher than she had ever dreamed. It turned out, to Charles, she was just a womb for his heir. He had forgotten how she sank into darkness after Yolanda's birth, how the sight of blood made her tremble, how doctors fought to keep her alive. He fretted over the other woman's safety in childbirth, never realizing Teresa's risk was far deadlier. The voices inside the room gradually became distant echoes. Teresa's lips twisted in a bitter smile. She had nearly died giving the Logans a daughter, yet Charles sowed his betrayals like seeds. Clutching the pregnancy report, she thought maybe it was time to end it all. Today was their scheduled conception day, but the ritual now felt hollow. It turned out love died not with a slow fade, but with one final snap. At this moment, there was also no reason to keep the child in her belly. If no one else cared about her life, at least she should do that for herself. As Teresa turned to leave, their housekeeper Barbara Davis noticed her, "Mrs. Logan, you're back already?" Teresa forced a smile, thinking perhaps today was finally the day to mention divorce. Chapter 2 I'm Done Teresa hid the pregnancy test report before walking into the living room. The conversation between Roselyn and Charles abruptly stopped when she appeared. Breaking her usual routine, Teresa didn't even bother with greetings as she entered. Before she had foolishly believed that being the perfect wife and daughter-in-law would make her husband finally see her worth. But life had taught her a cruel lesson. Even if she ripped out her own heart and offered it to the Logans, they wouldn't spare her a glance. Five years of sacrificing everything for this marriage had left her with nothing. It was time to stop that now. Charles knew exactly why he had come home today. He gave Barbara a pointed look and ordered, "Barbara, show Teresa out." The whole time, Teresa stood silently in the corner, but her eyes had turned ice-cold. Charles was the capable head of Logan Group, running everything with perfect precision. He treated his elders with respect, stood by his friends through thick and thin, managed his team with fairness, and showed genuine care for all his employees. Everyone who knew Charles spoke of him with admiration. Their mutual friends often joked that Teresa must have performed miracles in her past life to be married to such a man. But his kindness never reached his own wife. After five years of marriage, Teresa finally understood the painful truth. This cold, empty marriage was not what she wanted anymore. As Roselyn passed by Teresa, she suddenly stopped and said with icy contempt, "If you can't produce a male heir, you'll never be a true Logan." Before, Teresa would have swallowed such words quietly. But those days were over. She met Roselyn's gaze, all former obedience gone from her eyes. "Roselyn, we're both women," she shot back. "Since when is the baby's gender just my fault?" Roselyn had always treated Teresa like a meek little mouse she could push around. This sudden defiance caught her off guard, but she wasn't about to tolerate it. Her hand shot out, the slap cracking like a whip across Teresa's cheek. "You dare talk back to me?" she snapped. "On your knees. Now." There was something almost brutal in her expression, laced with the confidence that Teresa would crumble under her dominance. She knew Teresa loved Charles enough to sacrifice dignity, cast off pride, and even debase herself as a servant for the Logans. But now, Teresa refused to just swallow her pain. Since the Logans had never valued her sacrifices or even her life, she wouldn't yield to them any more. Her eyes hardened as they met Roselyn's. Without a word, she stepped forward, raising her hand to swing. But before her slap could reach Roselyn, a large hand shot out and caught her wrist. At the same time, a deep, reprimanding voice growled in her ear, "Teresa, do you really need to make things worse?" Teresa raised her head, meeting Charles's sharply defined features. His icy gaze prickled against her skin like needles. This was the face that had once driven her wild with obsession, but now, as she studied it closely, a quiet revulsion stirred within her. 'How can anyone be this heartless? Being ignored, cheated on and treated like trash, I could live with that. But regarding me as some baby-making machine? Demanding another child like my life means nothing? That would kill me.' Just thinking about it made her sick. When she was about to say something, Charles suddenly flung her hand away with force and said coldly, "I'm not in the mood today. Ask me again next month." With that, he took Roselyn's arm and walked out. Roselyn glanced back with a smug look that said it all, 'Of course he would choose me. You were never family.' Before, Teresa would've crumbled when Charles took his mother's side. But now, she felt nothing. No tears. No hurt. Just empty silence. As Charles was leaving the hall, Teresa suddenly called out, "Charles." She always kept her word. Now that she had decided on divorce, nothing would stop her, just like when she had stubbornly married him despite her family's strong objections. Eight years of loving Charles had drained her completely. He never valued her, never tried to make their marriage work. The only reason he married her is she got pregnant, and he felt forced to do the right thing. Their marriage was a grave, but Teresa was the only one buried alive. She should have woken up years ago. Charles stopped at the doorway. Teresa thought he was listening to her. Drawing a steady breath, she finally said what she had held back for years, "I'm done. Let's end this." The words lifted a weight she had carried far too long. But Charles abruptly raised his phone to his ear. She caught only his hurried response, "Got it. On my way." Without even glancing back, he ushered Roselyn out of Brocade Villa, leaving Teresa's declaration hanging in the air. As his figure vanished, Teresa finally let out a hollow laugh. Her words, her moment of courage, meant nothing to him. Barbara came back from seeing them off and was startled to find Teresa still frozen in the middle of the living room, as if turned to stone by some ancient curse. "Mrs. Logan?" she called out cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward. Suddenly snapping back to reality, Teresa numbly walked to the sofa and sank down. "Barbara," she said, her voice hollow, "make me dinner." For years she had done everything herself, surviving on the crumbs of Charles's attention. His rare visits had been enough to sustain her foolish hope, but now she knew better. A bitter smile touched her lips as she remembered she had once been her family's treasured youngest daughter, so fiercely protected that she had never needed to lift a finger for anything. After dinner, Teresa went straight to the study and drew up divorce papers. The Sullivans were well-off, and as a pediatrician, she could easily provide for Yolanda. But five years of silent suffering had earned her nothing but a cold, indifferent husband. So she made it clear that Charles would surrender half of their marital assets, plus 700,000 monthly in child support. Teresa stopped writing when she got to the part about Yolanda. She didn't know who her daughter would choose to live with. Realizing she had to ask Yolanda first, she picked up the unfinished divorce papers and left Brocade Villa right away. After Yolanda's birth, Charles purchased Joyacre Villa for his daughter. Teresa had been Yolanda's full-time caregiver for four years before resuming her hospital work. But as her professional responsibilities grew, she found fewer opportunities to be with her daughter. Over the past six months, she had been doing specialized training at a major regional hospital in the neighboring city. The only times she had seen Charles recently were when her foolish heart hoped another baby might anchor her drifting husband. She was always busy, but still swapped shifts with coworkers, working three straight overnight shifts just to see Charles. It never entered her mind that she couldn't have another baby by herself. If she was too busy, Charles could have come to her. But he always chose the other woman instead. A little after nine in the evening, Teresa took a taxi to Joyacre Villa. As she was getting out of the car, her phone showed a new video notification from YatesDaily, one of her regularly watched accounts. Chapter 3 Yolanda Chooses The Other Teresa didn't mean to watch, but force of habit made her tap the video. There was just one photo of Charles crouching before Naomi Yates. Underneath it read, [Had some wine, caught a chill. Called and you came. Having you here means everything.] Teresa's chest tightened at the image. 'If they're so in love, maybe I should step aside. Just give me my daughter and my fair share of the assets in the divorce. That's all I need.' She pocketed her phone and walked into the living room. Sharon Miller, the long-time housekeeper at Joyacre Villa, looked up in surprise when Teresa entered. "Mrs. Logan," she said after a brief hesitation, "Miss Yolanda's in her playroom upstairs with those Barbies she loves so much." Sharon barely finished speaking when Yolanda's excited voice rang out from above, "Mommy?" Teresa's heart ached. It had been weeks since she held her daughter. She dashed upstairs, scooping Yolanda into her arms and sinking to her knees to cover Yolanda's face with kisses. When Teresa finally drew back to speak, she saw Yolanda furiously rubbing her face. The sight choked Teresa's words before they could form. Tears welled as she stared at her daughter, her heart in turmoil. "Mommy, you're just in time," Yolanda blurted out before Teresa could speak. "I was gonna call you. For kindergarten, I want East Street Preschool." Her whole face lit up at the words. Teresa didn't understand why, but seeing Yolanda so excited, she couldn't say no. After all, it was only kindergarten. They could change schools later if needed. "Okay," she smiled, "East Street Preschool then." Yolanda immediately started jumping up and down with delight. Teresa watched Yolanda's joyful face, her own words suddenly stuck in her throat. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her belly. Then, meeting Yolanda's eyes, she asked quietly, "Sweetheart, would you want a baby brother or sister?" Yolanda shifted impatiently from foot to foot, clearly wanting to go back to her room, but she paused to consider the question. After a moment, she nodded decisively. "Okay," she said, "then I want a brother." A sharp pain shot through Teresa's heart. With teary eyes, she asked, "What if Mommy is scared?" Though the physical danger was gone, her hands still trembled as she remembered those terrifying hours after Yolanda's birth. The blood, the rushing doctors, the fear she might never hold her baby. Yolanda tilted her head, studying Teresa's worried face with surprising seriousness. "Then don't be selfish, Mommy," she said. "You weren't scared to have me, right?" Teresa went completely still, her face turning pale as if struck by lightning. She stood frozen for what felt like ages, lips trembling before she managed to whisper, "Don't you care if you lose Mommy forever?" For four long years, Teresa had shouldered every parenting duty by herself, waking for midnight feedings, singing soft lullabies, tending to every cry and need. In all that time, she couldn't remember a single uninterrupted night's sleep. Now, after all that sacrifice, she just wondered if her little girl still loved her. Yolanda's nose scrunched in annoyance. "I'm sleepy now," she declared. Before Teresa could react, Yolanda had scampered off, her bedroom door slamming shut. Left alone on the stairs, Teresa stood frozen, a hollow chill spreading through her chest. Soon, Yolanda's excited voice drifted from the bedroom. "Miss Naomi, I'm going to East Street Preschool! You can pick me up after work. It's right near your office. And no babies for you and Daddy, okay? Mommy says it's dangerous. She has done it before with me, so she can do it again. I really miss your bedtime stories and your hugs." Teresa stood outside the bedroom door, her chest aching as she remembered how Yolanda had wiped away her kisses earlier. She had believed that no matter what happened with Charles, her daughter would always be hers. Yet now Yolanda was pushing her away too, just like what her father had done. Teresa finally realized all her sacrifices and efforts were nothing but a joke. No one cared about what she had endured. Moving like a sleepwalker, she made her way downstairs. Sharon reached out when she saw Teresa's hollow expression, but got only a silent wave in reply. As soon as Teresa stepped out of Joyacre Villa, she pulled out her phone and called Charles. Ring after ring went unanswered. Usually she would hang up after a few tries, but tonight she kept hitting redial like a madwoman. When Charles finally answered, his voice was clipped, "I'm busy. If this is important—" Charles hadn't finished speaking when Teresa's voice cut in, sharp as glass shards, "Meet me. Now." The calm demand erupted into raw screams. Charles's face darkened at her outburst. When Teresa finally calmed down, Charles replied in an icy tone, "Whatever it is, we'll talk next month." The line went dead before Teresa could respond, leaving her clutching the silent phone. This was classic Charles, cutting her off, leaving her screaming into the void. Five years of this had hollowed her out. Divorce was the only way. But she would fight tooth and nail for Yolanda. Even if Yolanda seemed to favor Naomi now, those countless nights soothing a fussy baby still meant something. That bond couldn't be broken so easily. Teresa had just made up her mind when a Rolls Royce came to a sudden stop at the villa gates. Through the windshield, she saw Charles behind the wheel and Naomi Yates sitting beside him, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Charles met Teresa's gaze through the glass, the air between them thick with silence. In the past, Teresa was too afraid to confront Naomi's presence. Now, she couldn't even bring herself to care. After an agonizing silence, Charles finally stepped out of the car. Ignoring Teresa completely, he moved to open the door for Naomi. But Teresa called out sharply, "Charles. We need to talk." Charles kept moving, his hand already on the door handle. Teresa seized his wrist and forced it down. "Sleep with every woman in this city if you want," she spat through clenched teeth, "but that mistress of yours stays away from my daughter." At last, Charles looked at her. His gaze was cold, his voice low and dismissive, "Naomi would make a better mother than you." With that, he pushed past her and opened the car door. Teresa stood rooted to the spot, the cruel meaning dawning on her. 'Did he just say Naomi should be Yolanda's mother?' Chapter 4 Bad Mommy The car door opened. Charles held it with one hand and reached out to Naomi with the other. Their hands touched just as Teresa turned around. She should have felt hurt seeing this, but instead she was calm. Perhaps she had finally understood everything. That was why she could stand there so quietly now. She would've cried her heart out before. But now, all she could think was confronting Charles. "Charles," she said, her lips trembling, voice unsteady, "what exactly did you mean by that?" Naomi stepped out of the car, her hand still tucked in Charles's arm. Their long shadows blended together under the moonlight. Charles acted as if he hadn't heard Teresa, leading Naomi toward Joyacre Villa instead. Teresa had lost track of how many times she had been ignored like this. Her heart had taken too many blows already. But when it came to her daughter, she couldn't back down. Before she knew it, she had grabbed Charles's wrist with surprising force. "Charles!" Her voice cut through the night. "You owe me an explanation." Charles finally stopped and turned, his gaze icy. With a quick twist, he freed his wrist effortlessly. "You're busy with work," he said coldly, "and Yolanda's still young. She needs care. When you're pregnant again, Naomi will take care of Yolanda." That was Charles, always deciding things alone, declaring them like orders, not discussions. But this time, Teresa refused to accept his unilateral decision. When she had first planned her training in the neighboring city, she had personally chosen a nanny for Yolanda. Only last month did she learn Charles had fired the nanny a long time ago. During her half-year absence, Naomi had moved into Joyacre Villa, where the three of them had been living together as a happy family. Teresa had always avoided making scenes, clinging to the faint hope that Charles still respected her as his wife. But now, even her daughter was being taken from her. She couldn't simply walk away. When it came to Yolanda's care, Teresa's calm finally broke. "I can raise my own child," she said, her voice shaking. "We don't need any outsiders." Charles brushed aside Teresa's protests like they were nothing. "The matter is decided," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Teresa's patience finally snapped. "I said I'll take care of my own daughter!" Her voice rang out, sharper than she had ever allowed herself to sound before. The air grew thick with tension. Noticing the rising conflict, Naomi, who had been quietly standing behind Charles, gently stepped in, "Charles, maybe you two should talk this out? I'll go see how Yolanda is doing." She waited for Charles's approving nod before heading back toward Joyacre Villa. Just then, Teresa's sharp command stopped her, "Naomi, stay right there." The instant Naomi glanced back, Teresa's hand flew out, a loud slap landing across her face. Charles immediately pushed Teresa away and wrapped Naomi protectively in his arms. "Did she hurt you?" he asked urgently, examining the red mark blooming on her cheek. Naomi covered her stinging face, tears springing to her eyes with picture-perfect timing, the very image of wronged innocence. Charles was worried about Naomi. But Teresa felt no guilt. No decent woman would meddle this deeply with a married man. Then again, it took two to tango. Charles bore equal blame. Just as Teresa opened her mouth to say something, a small figure came sprinting from Joyacre Villa. Yolanda came running in a hurry, her small feet bare on the ground. The moment she got close, she threw herself at Naomi, wrapping both arms tightly around Naomi's legs. Her wide eyes brimmed with concern as she looked up. "Miss Naomi, does it hurt?" she whispered, voice quivering. Yolanda was getting ready for bed when she saw her father's car pull up through the window. Spotting him returning with Miss Naomi, she bolted downstairs. She reached the doorway just as Teresa's slap landed. Without a second thought, she ran to them, leaving her shoes behind in her hurry. Teresa stood rooted to the spot, watching her husband and daughter comfort this outsider. A sharp pain shot through her chest. She could practically hear her heart breaking. But what hurt most was seeing the little rose she had raised now pricking her with its thorns. Her hand shook as she reached out, her voice cracking, "Yolanda." Teresa barely got the name out when Yolanda spun around, face flushed with anger. The next instant, Yolanda flew at Teresa, small fists beating against Teresa's thighs. "Bad Mommy! Bad Mommy!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with rage. "Why would you hurt Miss Naomi? I hate you!" Teresa stood frozen, her face going pale in an instant. The realization hit her like a physical blow. Everything she had fought for in the custody battle had been nothing but her own foolish fantasy. Neither her husband nor her daughter wanted her anymore. In that moment, she became the punchline of her own life's cruel joke. But the most painful part was that she carried another child for a man who had never loved her. Teresa barely noticed how long Yolanda kept hitting her, when it stopped, or what else the little girl screamed. Those two words "Bad Mommy" had killed every bit of hope left. Numb, she stood frozen for a long moment. Then she let out a hollow laugh and walked away, without even glancing at Charles or Yolanda. Behind her, Charles and Yolanda kept huddling around Naomi, never noticing Teresa's departure. As she rounded the corner, she stole one final look back at the two people who had been her whole world for five years. Charles held Naomi's right hand while Yolanda clung to her left as they walked together, the three of them forming the very image of a loving family returning home. Teresa's lips quivered into a semblance of a smile, all her sorrow trapped inside. She longed to weep, but the tears refused to surface. These five years had sucked her dry. Never again would she burn herself to light their way. She walked away from Joyacre Villa alone, step by step replaying the past five years in her mind. Somewhere inside, she had always known this relationship was eating her alive. She just couldn't admit it. But now her eyes were open. From this moment on, she would put herself first. Teresa took a cab back to Brocade Villa. In the study, she prepared a new divorce agreement, stating that all assets would be divided equally and that she would not seek custody of their daughter. She placed the signed papers neatly on the desk, and then drove through the night back to the neighboring city. ***** After a night's rest, Teresa went to the hospital early. The doctor on duty was her old college friend, Sylvia Morris, who knew some of Teresa's marital troubles. When Sylvia heard Teresa's decision to end the pregnancy, she was shocked. "This baby didn't come easy," Sylvia said. "Why let go now? Even if things are bad between you, you can keep the baby without the man." Teresa met Sylvia's gaze steadily, her voice firm. "Sylvia, a woman's true strength lies in making responsible choices about motherhood. What's more, my life matters too. The surgery will be this morning. This is my final decision." The Teresa of the past no longer existed. From this moment forward, she would reserve her love for herself and those who genuinely cared for her. Those who failed to love her deserved no place in her life. Chapter 5 That Chapter Has Closed When Teresa woke up, she found herself in a hospital bed. Sylvia checked on her and said, "Stay two more days before discharge. Then get proper rest at home." Teresa nodded. She had decided to take a full month off. Her body mattered, and she would treat it right. After Sylvia left, Teresa checked her phone. The screen showed no missed calls from Charles. Clearly, last night had meant nothing to him. But for Teresa, everything had changed. This painful realization finally freed her from endless emotional exhaustion and struggle. Out of habit, she opened the video app. Naomi's post appeared first, with a subtle suggestion that they might know each other. The video showed Naomi holding a child's hand. Even from behind, Teresa recognized Yolanda instantly. The caption simply read, [It feels good to be needed.] The familiar backdrop was unmistakably Joyacre Villa's living room. Teresa's lips twitched in automatic response, the ghost of a smile flickering briefly. Then she pressed down on the post and selected Not Interested. No longer would she be a silent witness to their lives. That chapter had closed for good. ***** After leaving the hospital, Teresa hired a live-in caregiver. She followed her doctor's advice carefully, resting at home for a full month. When the recovery period ended, she paid the caregiver. Then she changed into a simple dress, applied light makeup, and drove straight to Riverdale. It was the 15th, their usual day to try for another baby. Teresa never really enjoyed being with Charles. He always rushed through it, eager to get back to Naomi. But tonight wasn't about having a child. Tonight, she would seriously tell him she wanted a divorce. Teresa reached Brocade Villa around 7 pm. Seeing her arrival, Barbara quickly set about making dinner. After the meal, Teresa headed upstairs to the study. On the desk sat the divorce papers, completely untouched, just like she had left them last month. Clearly, Charles hadn't come home the entire time. Teresa waited until past 9 pm, growing impatient. Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside. But when the door opened, it was only Barbara. "Mrs. Logan, Mr. Logan just called. He said he's busy tonight and won't be back. He told you to come back next month instead." Teresa laughed bitterly. She came back this month, but she wouldn't be coming next month. She was tired of being chained to this marriage. After a short pause, she stood and said to Barbara, "When he comes back, tell him I left something on the desk for him." Barbara nodded silently. Teresa grabbed her bag and walked out of Brocade Villa. With no destination in mind, she drove aimlessly through the city streets. Her hands moved automatically on the steering wheel until, without conscious thought, she found herself outside Riverdale Auditorium, where crowds of young people were pouring out after some event. The crowd gradually dispersed until only three figures remained. Charles and Naomi walked side by side, each holding one of Yolanda's hands. The three of them exchanged warm smiles, creating a picture of perfect happiness. Teresa froze at the sight. Yolanda swung Naomi's arm playfully and said in her sweetest voice, "Miss Naomi, you looked like a shining fairy up there. Your piano playing was wonderful. When I grow up, will you teach me too? Please, Miss Naomi?" Naomi stood glowing in a white evening dress, bright as a night-time star. She bent down to Yolanda's level with a kind smile, tapping the girl's nose gently. "If you want to learn," she laughed, "of course I'll teach you." Yolanda bounced excitedly, then looked up at Charles with shining eyes. "Daddy, Miss Naomi is the best, right?" Charles' eyes softened as he nodded, his expression full of pride and admiration. Yolanda grinned from ear to ear. "I wanna be just like Miss Naomi when I'm big." Teresa watched through the glass. She had never seen that look of love in her daughter's eyes. Marriage had consumed her completely. Over the years, she had given everything to her family, slowly losing herself in the process. To Yolanda, she was just the woman in the kitchen, while Naomi seemed like an unattainable angel. The realization struck like a knife to the heart. At the auditorium entrance, Yolanda suddenly bounced on her toes, arms stretched high. "Miss Naomi, pick me up!" Charles gently stepped between them, quietly noting Naomi's evening gown wasn't suitable for lifting a child. Yolanda's little face instantly clouded with disappointment. Naomi took in the scene. With a warm laugh, she swept Yolanda into her arms, shooting Charles a reassuring look. "Don't worry, I've got her," she said. Charles's stern expression melted into something tender as he watched them, his eyes glowing with quiet affection. Naomi carried Yolanda down the steps, the little girl nestling against her shoulder while Charles followed close behind, carefully gathering Naomi's gown to prevent it from dragging. The man who dominated corporate meetings now gently tended to a woman's dress. And just like that, the three settled into the car and vanished down the street. Teresa let out a bitter laugh. 'So this is what kept him busy.' She sat motionless in her car, staring blankly ahead, until her phone suddenly rang. The screen displayed Matthew Spencer's name. Matthew was her direct supervisor at the hospital. Though fully qualified in pediatric surgery, Teresa had to restart as a junior doctor after her four-year leave as a full-time mother. "Mr. Spencer," she answered politely. Matthew's voice came through clearly. "We're approving early completion of your training. You can return to regular hospital shifts next Monday." Teresa paused, then asked carefully, "What about that countryside program for kids' check-ups? I'd like to help out there." Matthew sounded surprised. "That's tough work with few career benefits. It's completely voluntary. The hospital isn't forcing anyone to go." But Teresa had made up her mind. "I'm willing to go, Mr. Spencer. Think of it as my working break." Hearing her unwavering resolve, Matthew stopped pressing the matter and approved a two-month placement. ***** A month flew by. Yolanda had settled well into preschool. With family pressure mounting after two straight failed months, Charles returned to Brocade Villa earlier than usual on the 15th. By 6 pm, Charles was already home. Barbara was surprised to see him return before Teresa. "You're early today, Mr. Logan?" she asked. Without answering the question, Charles made his way upstairs. "Send Teresa to the bedroom when she gets back," he instructed curtly. Barbara gave a slight nod, her eyes following him up the steps. Charles walked straight past the study. There was no reason to go anywhere else. His only reason for coming home was to try for another baby. After showering, he settled into bed to wait for Teresa. The hours dragged on from seven to eight to nine, yet Teresa remained absent. Just as his patience was wearing thin, footsteps finally sounded at the door. Chapter 6 Unanswered Calls The door opened. Charles flipped the light switch without thinking. The room was instantly engulfed in darkness. As he untied his robe, he said, "It's late. Let's begin. I've got things to do later." Light from the hallway crept in, barely illuminating the figure in the doorway. Barbara stiffened at Charles's words. "Mr. Logan, it's just me," she whispered, lingering nervously in the doorway. Charles was momentarily stunned. Realizing his mistake, he turned the light back on and looked at Barbara, his tone laced with confusion. "She hasn't returned yet?" Barbara's forehead glistened with sweat as she shook her head. "Not yet, Mr. Logan." The room's air turned leaden with tension. Noticing Charles's displeasure, Barbara added, "Mrs. Logan is normally home by six. Maybe something came up tonight?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly. Charles understood her kind intention but only replied with a terse, "Got it." When Barbara was about to remind him to sleep early, he abruptly sat up, leaving her words unspoken. Five minutes later, Charles changed his clothes and left Brocade Villa. Barbara saw him off downstairs, a nagging sense of forgetting something tugging at her. It wasn't until Charles's car disappeared from sight that she remembered Teresa had mentioned something in the study. Charles had just pulled out of Brocade Villa when his phone lit up with Naomi's call. "What's wrong?" he answered, his unusually gentle expression softened further by the dim interior light. Naomi's voice came softly through the phone. "Charles, I have an important performance tomorrow, but Yolanda's preschool is having Family Fun Day. I don't think I can make it." Charles didn't even consider asking Teresa first. "Teresa will go," he said, deciding for her like he always did. "Thank you," Naomi replied, her voice lifting with relief. "I've already discussed it with Yolanda. Would you mind passing the message along to Ms. Sullivan when you get a chance?" Charles said, "Don't worry. Just focus on your performance." Hanging up, he pulled the car over to the side of the road. After checking his call list for a long time, he still couldn't find Teresa's number. That was when he realized she hadn't called him in months. For years when Teresa stayed home with Yolanda, she called every day to ask if he would be home for dinner. He only occasionally returned, just to see their daughter. After they talked about having another baby, she still frequently called to check if he was coming home. He often ignored her calls, either hanging up or letting the phone ring. But when he needed to reach her, her number was right there in his phone. But now when Charles kept scrolling through his call log, her number was nowhere to be found. When he finally spotted it, the last call showed it was 3 months ago. Charles couldn't even remember if he had answered that one. Without hesitation, he dialed that number, only hearing an automated message saying the call could not go through. This had never happened before. Surprised, he tried again but got the same result. After several failed attempts, he finally gave up. He thought about video-calling Teresa on WhatsApp but couldn't find her contact. Left with no other option, he sent a text, [Yolanda has a Family Fun Day at her school tomorrow. She wants you there. East Street Preschool, at 2 pm.] With the message sent, Charles drove away. Charles assumed Teresa must be busy, which explained the missed calls. He was sure she would see the message and take Yolanda to the event. Content with this thought, he let his worries go. ***** At 9 pm, Teresa finished her evening shift at the village school. Exhausted, she trudged back to the teacher's dorm, washed up, and collapsed into bed. Her silenced phone lay untouched beside her. She didn't check it before falling asleep. The next morning, Teresa was awakened by a sound from her phone. Still half-asleep, she picked it up and saw it wasn't an alarm but a calendar reminder about her father-in-law's birthday tomorrow. In previous years, she would have woken up early to go to the morning market for groceries. Then she would spend the entire day cooking fancy dishes for the birthday dinner party. But this year was different. She decided not to do that anymore. After closing the reminder, she put down her phone and went back to sleep for a while longer. ***** Today was Friday. Teresa finished work at 2 pm. Before, she had only remembered her father-in-law's birthday, forgetting it was also her dad's special day. But this year, she would head back to her parents' house tonight and cook a hearty meal for her own family tomorrow. As for Charles's text, it had long been buried under a flood of notifications. ***** Teresa arrived at her parents' place at 6 pm, just in time for dinner. Walking into the living room, she saw the whole family were there. Monica Sullivan, deep in her puzzle, jumped when a figure appeared in the doorway. Squinting for a better look, she suddenly recognized her long-absent aunt. The puzzle pieces scattered as she sprinted across the room and clung to Teresa's legs. "Aunt Teresa, you're back!" Teresa dropped to her knees and gathered Monica into a fierce hug, pressing a kiss to the child's cheek. Words choked in her throat, her eyes stinging as she fought back tears. Monica locked her arms around Teresa's neck, smacking a loud kiss on her aunt's cheek. Then she yelled toward the kitchen, "Dad! Mom! Aunt Teresa's home!" Hearing the words, Theodore Sullivan and Yvonne Wesley emerged from the kitchen. Theodore's face lit up at first glimpse of Teresa, but the joy evaporated instantly. Noticing his stern expression, Yvonne gave him a subtle elbow nudge before turning to Teresa with a warm smile. "Just in time. Dinner's about to be served." Monica walked towards Yvonne, tugging her mother's sleeve. "Mom, Aunt Teresa's favorite is prosciutto. You said we had to save it till she visited. Now can we have some?" Yvonne tapped Monica's nose with a chuckle. "Such a greedy girl. Alright, we'll have some today." Monica squealed with delight, her tiny hands clapping and ponytails swinging wildly with every jump. Theodore kept his eyes averted from Teresa, his disapproval settling on Monica instead. "Don't waste your affection on those who don't appreciate it," he grumbled under his breath. Teresa's family had always loved her. But she threw herself into serving the Logans, never getting so much as a thank you. They took her for granted while her real family suffered. Actually, she was too ashamed to come back tonight. But she knew the love from her family was always there. Her brother and father might act tough, but they cared deeply. Her mother never stopped waiting for her. Her sister-in-law was always kind and understanding. And her niece was so adorable. It was time to hold on to those who really loved her. The coldness of the past was only worth leaving behind. -------------------------------------------------- There are limited chapters to put here, click “learn more” to open App to continue reading (It will automatically jump to the book)
Thinking about those strong hands gripping my sl1m w@ist, those lÜscious l1ps... ChiLLs r@ce across my skin as I imagine his b0dy against mine. “Teresa Sullivan!” shouts the conductor, snapping me out of my trance. Off the train and back home, I’m grateful for the distance from my arranged husband. Craving a breath of fresh air, I’m happy to spend the holiday out of the city and back with my people. As we set the turkey down on the table, I finally let out a sigh of relief. -------------------------------------- Chapter 1 Love Dies With One Final Snap Teresa Sullivan returned to Brocade Villa at 10 pm. The full moon marked her ovulation day, the 15th. Ever since her daughter Yolanda Logan was born, her in-laws had been pressuring her for another child. Most women would have laughed it off, saying there was no throne to inherit. But the Logans were different. As Riverdale's wealthiest family, their billion-dollar empire demanded a male heir. When Teresa stepped into the bedroom, her husband, Charles Logan, was already showered and ready. No pleasantries, no small talk, they went straight to business. Three minutes later, Charles went to the bathroom. When he returned, Teresa remained still in bed. He dressed with his back to her, tossing the words over his shoulder, "Test on schedule. Call me if it's positive." For five years, he had always treated her with such bare minimum of speech. Their marriage existed only on paper, while Charles openly maintained his relationship with his mistress. Teresa spent sleepless nights combing through his social media, tracing every digital footprint until she found the other woman's profile. Since then, she checked it compulsively, like picking at a scab that would never heal. Before the second-child plan, Teresa could hardly see Charles in person. She could only track her husband's life through the other woman's posts: lavish meals, exotic vacations, birthday celebrations. Now they met exactly once a month, like clockwork. Knowing Charles was eager to leave, Teresa quickly stood up. "Wait," she said, her voice catching. "We need to talk." Her hands clenched at her sides as she stared at his back. Charles slowly turned, his face a mask of cold indifference. "About what?" he asked, the words sharp as broken glass. Teresa's voice dropped to a whisper. "I want to make this work," she pleaded, knowing deep down it was probably too late. But she had to try. She had fought too hard for this marriage, for their family. Their daughter deserved better than failed parents. Charles showed no reaction. Teresa couldn't tell if he hadn't heard or was deliberately ignoring her. He finished buttoning his shirt, fastened his watch, and headed for the door without a word. This time, Teresa stayed by the bed. No desperate hugs. No pleading for him to stay. The old habits had died quietly. Just as Charles reached for the doorknob, Teresa's composure shattered. "You only come to Brocade Villa once a month," she cried, her voice cracking. "No calls. No meals together. We're complete strangers. Tell me, Charles, what kind of marriage even is this?" Charles stopped, turning just enough to meet her gaze. His eyes stayed dry as hers overflowed. "When you're carrying my son," he said flatly, "I'll return." The door clicked shut behind him. Teresa didn't move. For the first time, she let him walk away. She had poured her whole heart into this marriage. The birth of their daughter nearly killed her, with doctors issuing three critical warnings during her amniotic fluid embolism. Still, she had been willing to risk death again for a son. Now, standing alone in their empty bedroom, she started to wonder whether this sacrifice meant anything. After her shower, Teresa automatically grabbed her phone and opened the video app. The "Frequently Viewed" list showed just one account named YatesDaily, with its cheerful profile picture. A new post had gone up two minutes ago. The video displayed two shadowy figures under a streetlight, holding hands with matching bracelets. The caption read, [Two shadows under the light. One is mine. The other is also mine.] Her heart wrenched a bit, but quietly now. Where there once was a hurricane, only ripples remained. Perhaps she had grown accustomed to the feeling. These days, their meetings always ended the same way with Charles rushing off to see the other woman. But when the emotion faded, she clung to one certainty. As long as Charles needed her to bear his heir, no one could replace her as Mrs. Logan. But this hollow marriage was a bitter pill she had to keep swallowing day after lonely day. ***** A month later, on a chilly Tuesday evening, Teresa rushed into Brocade Villa, the still-warm pregnancy test report crumpled in her sweaty palm. Her heart pounded, not from running but from the two bold lines that changed everything. Tonight, she would finally have news worth celebrating. As Teresa stepped into the living room, her mother-in-law's sharp voice cut through the air, freezing her in the doorway. "Charles, you're 32," Roselyn Lockwood said. "Five years married and only one daughter. Meeting your wife once a month? How's she supposed to get pregnant like that? If it's really not working, let your mistress try. Any boy with Logan blood will do." Charles immediately rejected the idea, "That's not acceptable." Teresa stepped back, hiding in the shadows. For a brief moment, her heart fluttered, because Charles was standing up for her. After all, she remained his lawful wife, regardless of his affairs. But then his tone shifted, clinical and cold, "Remember her embolism during Yolanda's birth?" Roselyn's face darkened. "And who brought this curse into our home? The Logans never had such shame before." Her voice rose to a shrill pitch. "Other wives pop out babies like it's nothing. But our precious Teresa? One birth and we're the talk of the town for days. Humiliating!" Charles completely ignored his mother's complaints. Instead, he explained, "Childbirth is dangerous. Teresa has already been through it once. She can handle the risk. But Naomi is still young. I can't let her take that chance." Teresa stood rooted outside the door, shock coursing through her like electricity. She felt sad, but the tears wouldn't come. Knowing Charles had betrayed her and that their marriage was broken, she still had clung to the naive hope that a second child might bind him to her and that the Logan name would protect her. Now reality struck, colder and harsher than she had ever dreamed. It turned out, to Charles, she was just a womb for his heir. He had forgotten how she sank into darkness after Yolanda's birth, how the sight of blood made her tremble, how doctors fought to keep her alive. He fretted over the other woman's safety in childbirth, never realizing Teresa's risk was far deadlier. The voices inside the room gradually became distant echoes. Teresa's lips twisted in a bitter smile. She had nearly died giving the Logans a daughter, yet Charles sowed his betrayals like seeds. Clutching the pregnancy report, she thought maybe it was time to end it all. Today was their scheduled conception day, but the ritual now felt hollow. It turned out love died not with a slow fade, but with one final snap. At this moment, there was also no reason to keep the child in her belly. If no one else cared about her life, at least she should do that for herself. As Teresa turned to leave, their housekeeper Barbara Davis noticed her, "Mrs. Logan, you're back already?" Teresa forced a smile, thinking perhaps today was finally the day to mention divorce. Chapter 2 I'm Done Teresa hid the pregnancy test report before walking into the living room. The conversation between Roselyn and Charles abruptly stopped when she appeared. Breaking her usual routine, Teresa didn't even bother with greetings as she entered. Before she had foolishly believed that being the perfect wife and daughter-in-law would make her husband finally see her worth. But life had taught her a cruel lesson. Even if she ripped out her own heart and offered it to the Logans, they wouldn't spare her a glance. Five years of sacrificing everything for this marriage had left her with nothing. It was time to stop that now. Charles knew exactly why he had come home today. He gave Barbara a pointed look and ordered, "Barbara, show Teresa out." The whole time, Teresa stood silently in the corner, but her eyes had turned ice-cold. Charles was the capable head of Logan Group, running everything with perfect precision. He treated his elders with respect, stood by his friends through thick and thin, managed his team with fairness, and showed genuine care for all his employees. Everyone who knew Charles spoke of him with admiration. Their mutual friends often joked that Teresa must have performed miracles in her past life to be married to such a man. But his kindness never reached his own wife. After five years of marriage, Teresa finally understood the painful truth. This cold, empty marriage was not what she wanted anymore. As Roselyn passed by Teresa, she suddenly stopped and said with icy contempt, "If you can't produce a male heir, you'll never be a true Logan." Before, Teresa would have swallowed such words quietly. But those days were over. She met Roselyn's gaze, all former obedience gone from her eyes. "Roselyn, we're both women," she shot back. "Since when is the baby's gender just my fault?" Roselyn had always treated Teresa like a meek little mouse she could push around. This sudden defiance caught her off guard, but she wasn't about to tolerate it. Her hand shot out, the slap cracking like a whip across Teresa's cheek. "You dare talk back to me?" she snapped. "On your knees. Now." There was something almost brutal in her expression, laced with the confidence that Teresa would crumble under her dominance. She knew Teresa loved Charles enough to sacrifice dignity, cast off pride, and even debase herself as a servant for the Logans. But now, Teresa refused to just swallow her pain. Since the Logans had never valued her sacrifices or even her life, she wouldn't yield to them any more. Her eyes hardened as they met Roselyn's. Without a word, she stepped forward, raising her hand to swing. But before her slap could reach Roselyn, a large hand shot out and caught her wrist. At the same time, a deep, reprimanding voice growled in her ear, "Teresa, do you really need to make things worse?" Teresa raised her head, meeting Charles's sharply defined features. His icy gaze prickled against her skin like needles. This was the face that had once driven her wild with obsession, but now, as she studied it closely, a quiet revulsion stirred within her. 'How can anyone be this heartless? Being ignored, cheated on and treated like trash, I could live with that. But regarding me as some baby-making machine? Demanding another child like my life means nothing? That would kill me.' Just thinking about it made her sick. When she was about to say something, Charles suddenly flung her hand away with force and said coldly, "I'm not in the mood today. Ask me again next month." With that, he took Roselyn's arm and walked out. Roselyn glanced back with a smug look that said it all, 'Of course he would choose me. You were never family.' Before, Teresa would've crumbled when Charles took his mother's side. But now, she felt nothing. No tears. No hurt. Just empty silence. As Charles was leaving the hall, Teresa suddenly called out, "Charles." She always kept her word. Now that she had decided on divorce, nothing would stop her, just like when she had stubbornly married him despite her family's strong objections. Eight years of loving Charles had drained her completely. He never valued her, never tried to make their marriage work. The only reason he married her is she got pregnant, and he felt forced to do the right thing. Their marriage was a grave, but Teresa was the only one buried alive. She should have woken up years ago. Charles stopped at the doorway. Teresa thought he was listening to her. Drawing a steady breath, she finally said what she had held back for years, "I'm done. Let's end this." The words lifted a weight she had carried far too long. But Charles abruptly raised his phone to his ear. She caught only his hurried response, "Got it. On my way." Without even glancing back, he ushered Roselyn out of Brocade Villa, leaving Teresa's declaration hanging in the air. As his figure vanished, Teresa finally let out a hollow laugh. Her words, her moment of courage, meant nothing to him. Barbara came back from seeing them off and was startled to find Teresa still frozen in the middle of the living room, as if turned to stone by some ancient curse. "Mrs. Logan?" she called out cautiously, taking a hesitant step forward. Suddenly snapping back to reality, Teresa numbly walked to the sofa and sank down. "Barbara," she said, her voice hollow, "make me dinner." For years she had done everything herself, surviving on the crumbs of Charles's attention. His rare visits had been enough to sustain her foolish hope, but now she knew better. A bitter smile touched her lips as she remembered she had once been her family's treasured youngest daughter, so fiercely protected that she had never needed to lift a finger for anything. After dinner, Teresa went straight to the study and drew up divorce papers. The Sullivans were well-off, and as a pediatrician, she could easily provide for Yolanda. But five years of silent suffering had earned her nothing but a cold, indifferent husband. So she made it clear that Charles would surrender half of their marital assets, plus 700,000 monthly in child support. Teresa stopped writing when she got to the part about Yolanda. She didn't know who her daughter would choose to live with. Realizing she had to ask Yolanda first, she picked up the unfinished divorce papers and left Brocade Villa right away. After Yolanda's birth, Charles purchased Joyacre Villa for his daughter. Teresa had been Yolanda's full-time caregiver for four years before resuming her hospital work. But as her professional responsibilities grew, she found fewer opportunities to be with her daughter. Over the past six months, she had been doing specialized training at a major regional hospital in the neighboring city. The only times she had seen Charles recently were when her foolish heart hoped another baby might anchor her drifting husband. She was always busy, but still swapped shifts with coworkers, working three straight overnight shifts just to see Charles. It never entered her mind that she couldn't have another baby by herself. If she was too busy, Charles could have come to her. But he always chose the other woman instead. A little after nine in the evening, Teresa took a taxi to Joyacre Villa. As she was getting out of the car, her phone showed a new video notification from YatesDaily, one of her regularly watched accounts. Chapter 3 Yolanda Chooses The Other Teresa didn't mean to watch, but force of habit made her tap the video. There was just one photo of Charles crouching before Naomi Yates. Underneath it read, [Had some wine, caught a chill. Called and you came. Having you here means everything.] Teresa's chest tightened at the image. 'If they're so in love, maybe I should step aside. Just give me my daughter and my fair share of the assets in the divorce. That's all I need.' She pocketed her phone and walked into the living room. Sharon Miller, the long-time housekeeper at Joyacre Villa, looked up in surprise when Teresa entered. "Mrs. Logan," she said after a brief hesitation, "Miss Yolanda's in her playroom upstairs with those Barbies she loves so much." Sharon barely finished speaking when Yolanda's excited voice rang out from above, "Mommy?" Teresa's heart ached. It had been weeks since she held her daughter. She dashed upstairs, scooping Yolanda into her arms and sinking to her knees to cover Yolanda's face with kisses. When Teresa finally drew back to speak, she saw Yolanda furiously rubbing her face. The sight choked Teresa's words before they could form. Tears welled as she stared at her daughter, her heart in turmoil. "Mommy, you're just in time," Yolanda blurted out before Teresa could speak. "I was gonna call you. For kindergarten, I want East Street Preschool." Her whole face lit up at the words. Teresa didn't understand why, but seeing Yolanda so excited, she couldn't say no. After all, it was only kindergarten. They could change schools later if needed. "Okay," she smiled, "East Street Preschool then." Yolanda immediately started jumping up and down with delight. Teresa watched Yolanda's joyful face, her own words suddenly stuck in her throat. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her belly. Then, meeting Yolanda's eyes, she asked quietly, "Sweetheart, would you want a baby brother or sister?" Yolanda shifted impatiently from foot to foot, clearly wanting to go back to her room, but she paused to consider the question. After a moment, she nodded decisively. "Okay," she said, "then I want a brother." A sharp pain shot through Teresa's heart. With teary eyes, she asked, "What if Mommy is scared?" Though the physical danger was gone, her hands still trembled as she remembered those terrifying hours after Yolanda's birth. The blood, the rushing doctors, the fear she might never hold her baby. Yolanda tilted her head, studying Teresa's worried face with surprising seriousness. "Then don't be selfish, Mommy," she said. "You weren't scared to have me, right?" Teresa went completely still, her face turning pale as if struck by lightning. She stood frozen for what felt like ages, lips trembling before she managed to whisper, "Don't you care if you lose Mommy forever?" For four long years, Teresa had shouldered every parenting duty by herself, waking for midnight feedings, singing soft lullabies, tending to every cry and need. In all that time, she couldn't remember a single uninterrupted night's sleep. Now, after all that sacrifice, she just wondered if her little girl still loved her. Yolanda's nose scrunched in annoyance. "I'm sleepy now," she declared. Before Teresa could react, Yolanda had scampered off, her bedroom door slamming shut. Left alone on the stairs, Teresa stood frozen, a hollow chill spreading through her chest. Soon, Yolanda's excited voice drifted from the bedroom. "Miss Naomi, I'm going to East Street Preschool! You can pick me up after work. It's right near your office. And no babies for you and Daddy, okay? Mommy says it's dangerous. She has done it before with me, so she can do it again. I really miss your bedtime stories and your hugs." Teresa stood outside the bedroom door, her chest aching as she remembered how Yolanda had wiped away her kisses earlier. She had believed that no matter what happened with Charles, her daughter would always be hers. Yet now Yolanda was pushing her away too, just like what her father had done. Teresa finally realized all her sacrifices and efforts were nothing but a joke. No one cared about what she had endured. Moving like a sleepwalker, she made her way downstairs. Sharon reached out when she saw Teresa's hollow expression, but got only a silent wave in reply. As soon as Teresa stepped out of Joyacre Villa, she pulled out her phone and called Charles. Ring after ring went unanswered. Usually she would hang up after a few tries, but tonight she kept hitting redial like a madwoman. When Charles finally answered, his voice was clipped, "I'm busy. If this is important—" Charles hadn't finished speaking when Teresa's voice cut in, sharp as glass shards, "Meet me. Now." The calm demand erupted into raw screams. Charles's face darkened at her outburst. When Teresa finally calmed down, Charles replied in an icy tone, "Whatever it is, we'll talk next month." The line went dead before Teresa could respond, leaving her clutching the silent phone. This was classic Charles, cutting her off, leaving her screaming into the void. Five years of this had hollowed her out. Divorce was the only way. But she would fight tooth and nail for Yolanda. Even if Yolanda seemed to favor Naomi now, those countless nights soothing a fussy baby still meant something. That bond couldn't be broken so easily. Teresa had just made up her mind when a Rolls Royce came to a sudden stop at the villa gates. Through the windshield, she saw Charles behind the wheel and Naomi Yates sitting beside him, a bouquet of flowers in her hands. Charles met Teresa's gaze through the glass, the air between them thick with silence. In the past, Teresa was too afraid to confront Naomi's presence. Now, she couldn't even bring herself to care. After an agonizing silence, Charles finally stepped out of the car. Ignoring Teresa completely, he moved to open the door for Naomi. But Teresa called out sharply, "Charles. We need to talk." Charles kept moving, his hand already on the door handle. Teresa seized his wrist and forced it down. "Sleep with every woman in this city if you want," she spat through clenched teeth, "but that mistress of yours stays away from my daughter." At last, Charles looked at her. His gaze was cold, his voice low and dismissive, "Naomi would make a better mother than you." With that, he pushed past her and opened the car door. Teresa stood rooted to the spot, the cruel meaning dawning on her. 'Did he just say Naomi should be Yolanda's mother?' Chapter 4 Bad Mommy The car door opened. Charles held it with one hand and reached out to Naomi with the other. Their hands touched just as Teresa turned around. She should have felt hurt seeing this, but instead she was calm. Perhaps she had finally understood everything. That was why she could stand there so quietly now. She would've cried her heart out before. But now, all she could think was confronting Charles. "Charles," she said, her lips trembling, voice unsteady, "what exactly did you mean by that?" Naomi stepped out of the car, her hand still tucked in Charles's arm. Their long shadows blended together under the moonlight. Charles acted as if he hadn't heard Teresa, leading Naomi toward Joyacre Villa instead. Teresa had lost track of how many times she had been ignored like this. Her heart had taken too many blows already. But when it came to her daughter, she couldn't back down. Before she knew it, she had grabbed Charles's wrist with surprising force. "Charles!" Her voice cut through the night. "You owe me an explanation." Charles finally stopped and turned, his gaze icy. With a quick twist, he freed his wrist effortlessly. "You're busy with work," he said coldly, "and Yolanda's still young. She needs care. When you're pregnant again, Naomi will take care of Yolanda." That was Charles, always deciding things alone, declaring them like orders, not discussions. But this time, Teresa refused to accept his unilateral decision. When she had first planned her training in the neighboring city, she had personally chosen a nanny for Yolanda. Only last month did she learn Charles had fired the nanny a long time ago. During her half-year absence, Naomi had moved into Joyacre Villa, where the three of them had been living together as a happy family. Teresa had always avoided making scenes, clinging to the faint hope that Charles still respected her as his wife. But now, even her daughter was being taken from her. She couldn't simply walk away. When it came to Yolanda's care, Teresa's calm finally broke. "I can raise my own child," she said, her voice shaking. "We don't need any outsiders." Charles brushed aside Teresa's protests like they were nothing. "The matter is decided," he stated flatly, his tone leaving no room for argument. Teresa's patience finally snapped. "I said I'll take care of my own daughter!" Her voice rang out, sharper than she had ever allowed herself to sound before. The air grew thick with tension. Noticing the rising conflict, Naomi, who had been quietly standing behind Charles, gently stepped in, "Charles, maybe you two should talk this out? I'll go see how Yolanda is doing." She waited for Charles's approving nod before heading back toward Joyacre Villa. Just then, Teresa's sharp command stopped her, "Naomi, stay right there." The instant Naomi glanced back, Teresa's hand flew out, a loud slap landing across her face. Charles immediately pushed Teresa away and wrapped Naomi protectively in his arms. "Did she hurt you?" he asked urgently, examining the red mark blooming on her cheek. Naomi covered her stinging face, tears springing to her eyes with picture-perfect timing, the very image of wronged innocence. Charles was worried about Naomi. But Teresa felt no guilt. No decent woman would meddle this deeply with a married man. Then again, it took two to tango. Charles bore equal blame. Just as Teresa opened her mouth to say something, a small figure came sprinting from Joyacre Villa. Yolanda came running in a hurry, her small feet bare on the ground. The moment she got close, she threw herself at Naomi, wrapping both arms tightly around Naomi's legs. Her wide eyes brimmed with concern as she looked up. "Miss Naomi, does it hurt?" she whispered, voice quivering. Yolanda was getting ready for bed when she saw her father's car pull up through the window. Spotting him returning with Miss Naomi, she bolted downstairs. She reached the doorway just as Teresa's slap landed. Without a second thought, she ran to them, leaving her shoes behind in her hurry. Teresa stood rooted to the spot, watching her husband and daughter comfort this outsider. A sharp pain shot through her chest. She could practically hear her heart breaking. But what hurt most was seeing the little rose she had raised now pricking her with its thorns. Her hand shook as she reached out, her voice cracking, "Yolanda." Teresa barely got the name out when Yolanda spun around, face flushed with anger. The next instant, Yolanda flew at Teresa, small fists beating against Teresa's thighs. "Bad Mommy! Bad Mommy!" she shrieked, her voice cracking with rage. "Why would you hurt Miss Naomi? I hate you!" Teresa stood frozen, her face going pale in an instant. The realization hit her like a physical blow. Everything she had fought for in the custody battle had been nothing but her own foolish fantasy. Neither her husband nor her daughter wanted her anymore. In that moment, she became the punchline of her own life's cruel joke. But the most painful part was that she carried another child for a man who had never loved her. Teresa barely noticed how long Yolanda kept hitting her, when it stopped, or what else the little girl screamed. Those two words "Bad Mommy" had killed every bit of hope left. Numb, she stood frozen for a long moment. Then she let out a hollow laugh and walked away, without even glancing at Charles or Yolanda. Behind her, Charles and Yolanda kept huddling around Naomi, never noticing Teresa's departure. As she rounded the corner, she stole one final look back at the two people who had been her whole world for five years. Charles held Naomi's right hand while Yolanda clung to her left as they walked together, the three of them forming the very image of a loving family returning home. Teresa's lips quivered into a semblance of a smile, all her sorrow trapped inside. She longed to weep, but the tears refused to surface. These five years had sucked her dry. Never again would she burn herself to light their way. She walked away from Joyacre Villa alone, step by step replaying the past five years in her mind. Somewhere inside, she had always known this relationship was eating her alive. She just couldn't admit it. But now her eyes were open. From this moment on, she would put herself first. Teresa took a cab back to Brocade Villa. In the study, she prepared a new divorce agreement, stating that all assets would be divided equally and that she would not seek custody of their daughter. She placed the signed papers neatly on the desk, and then drove through the night back to the neighboring city. ***** After a night's rest, Teresa went to the hospital early. The doctor on duty was her old college friend, Sylvia Morris, who knew some of Teresa's marital troubles. When Sylvia heard Teresa's decision to end the pregnancy, she was shocked. "This baby didn't come easy," Sylvia said. "Why let go now? Even if things are bad between you, you can keep the baby without the man." Teresa met Sylvia's gaze steadily, her voice firm. "Sylvia, a woman's true strength lies in making responsible choices about motherhood. What's more, my life matters too. The surgery will be this morning. This is my final decision." The Teresa of the past no longer existed. From this moment forward, she would reserve her love for herself and those who genuinely cared for her. Those who failed to love her deserved no place in her life. Chapter 5 That Chapter Has Closed When Teresa woke up, she found herself in a hospital bed. Sylvia checked on her and said, "Stay two more days before discharge. Then get proper rest at home." Teresa nodded. She had decided to take a full month off. Her body mattered, and she would treat it right. After Sylvia left, Teresa checked her phone. The screen showed no missed calls from Charles. Clearly, last night had meant nothing to him. But for Teresa, everything had changed. This painful realization finally freed her from endless emotional exhaustion and struggle. Out of habit, she opened the video app. Naomi's post appeared first, with a subtle suggestion that they might know each other. The video showed Naomi holding a child's hand. Even from behind, Teresa recognized Yolanda instantly. The caption simply read, [It feels good to be needed.] The familiar backdrop was unmistakably Joyacre Villa's living room. Teresa's lips twitched in automatic response, the ghost of a smile flickering briefly. Then she pressed down on the post and selected Not Interested. No longer would she be a silent witness to their lives. That chapter had closed for good. ***** After leaving the hospital, Teresa hired a live-in caregiver. She followed her doctor's advice carefully, resting at home for a full month. When the recovery period ended, she paid the caregiver. Then she changed into a simple dress, applied light makeup, and drove straight to Riverdale. It was the 15th, their usual day to try for another baby. Teresa never really enjoyed being with Charles. He always rushed through it, eager to get back to Naomi. But tonight wasn't about having a child. Tonight, she would seriously tell him she wanted a divorce. Teresa reached Brocade Villa around 7 pm. Seeing her arrival, Barbara quickly set about making dinner. After the meal, Teresa headed upstairs to the study. On the desk sat the divorce papers, completely untouched, just like she had left them last month. Clearly, Charles hadn't come home the entire time. Teresa waited until past 9 pm, growing impatient. Suddenly, footsteps sounded outside. But when the door opened, it was only Barbara. "Mrs. Logan, Mr. Logan just called. He said he's busy tonight and won't be back. He told you to come back next month instead." Teresa laughed bitterly. She came back this month, but she wouldn't be coming next month. She was tired of being chained to this marriage. After a short pause, she stood and said to Barbara, "When he comes back, tell him I left something on the desk for him." Barbara nodded silently. Teresa grabbed her bag and walked out of Brocade Villa. With no destination in mind, she drove aimlessly through the city streets. Her hands moved automatically on the steering wheel until, without conscious thought, she found herself outside Riverdale Auditorium, where crowds of young people were pouring out after some event. The crowd gradually dispersed until only three figures remained. Charles and Naomi walked side by side, each holding one of Yolanda's hands. The three of them exchanged warm smiles, creating a picture of perfect happiness. Teresa froze at the sight. Yolanda swung Naomi's arm playfully and said in her sweetest voice, "Miss Naomi, you looked like a shining fairy up there. Your piano playing was wonderful. When I grow up, will you teach me too? Please, Miss Naomi?" Naomi stood glowing in a white evening dress, bright as a night-time star. She bent down to Yolanda's level with a kind smile, tapping the girl's nose gently. "If you want to learn," she laughed, "of course I'll teach you." Yolanda bounced excitedly, then looked up at Charles with shining eyes. "Daddy, Miss Naomi is the best, right?" Charles' eyes softened as he nodded, his expression full of pride and admiration. Yolanda grinned from ear to ear. "I wanna be just like Miss Naomi when I'm big." Teresa watched through the glass. She had never seen that look of love in her daughter's eyes. Marriage had consumed her completely. Over the years, she had given everything to her family, slowly losing herself in the process. To Yolanda, she was just the woman in the kitchen, while Naomi seemed like an unattainable angel. The realization struck like a knife to the heart. At the auditorium entrance, Yolanda suddenly bounced on her toes, arms stretched high. "Miss Naomi, pick me up!" Charles gently stepped between them, quietly noting Naomi's evening gown wasn't suitable for lifting a child. Yolanda's little face instantly clouded with disappointment. Naomi took in the scene. With a warm laugh, she swept Yolanda into her arms, shooting Charles a reassuring look. "Don't worry, I've got her," she said. Charles's stern expression melted into something tender as he watched them, his eyes glowing with quiet affection. Naomi carried Yolanda down the steps, the little girl nestling against her shoulder while Charles followed close behind, carefully gathering Naomi's gown to prevent it from dragging. The man who dominated corporate meetings now gently tended to a woman's dress. And just like that, the three settled into the car and vanished down the street. Teresa let out a bitter laugh. 'So this is what kept him busy.' She sat motionless in her car, staring blankly ahead, until her phone suddenly rang. The screen displayed Matthew Spencer's name. Matthew was her direct supervisor at the hospital. Though fully qualified in pediatric surgery, Teresa had to restart as a junior doctor after her four-year leave as a full-time mother. "Mr. Spencer," she answered politely. Matthew's voice came through clearly. "We're approving early completion of your training. You can return to regular hospital shifts next Monday." Teresa paused, then asked carefully, "What about that countryside program for kids' check-ups? I'd like to help out there." Matthew sounded surprised. "That's tough work with few career benefits. It's completely voluntary. The hospital isn't forcing anyone to go." But Teresa had made up her mind. "I'm willing to go, Mr. Spencer. Think of it as my working break." Hearing her unwavering resolve, Matthew stopped pressing the matter and approved a two-month placement. ***** A month flew by. Yolanda had settled well into preschool. With family pressure mounting after two straight failed months, Charles returned to Brocade Villa earlier than usual on the 15th. By 6 pm, Charles was already home. Barbara was surprised to see him return before Teresa. "You're early today, Mr. Logan?" she asked. Without answering the question, Charles made his way upstairs. "Send Teresa to the bedroom when she gets back," he instructed curtly. Barbara gave a slight nod, her eyes following him up the steps. Charles walked straight past the study. There was no reason to go anywhere else. His only reason for coming home was to try for another baby. After showering, he settled into bed to wait for Teresa. The hours dragged on from seven to eight to nine, yet Teresa remained absent. Just as his patience was wearing thin, footsteps finally sounded at the door. Chapter 6 Unanswered Calls The door opened. Charles flipped the light switch without thinking. The room was instantly engulfed in darkness. As he untied his robe, he said, "It's late. Let's begin. I've got things to do later." Light from the hallway crept in, barely illuminating the figure in the doorway. Barbara stiffened at Charles's words. "Mr. Logan, it's just me," she whispered, lingering nervously in the doorway. Charles was momentarily stunned. Realizing his mistake, he turned the light back on and looked at Barbara, his tone laced with confusion. "She hasn't returned yet?" Barbara's forehead glistened with sweat as she shook her head. "Not yet, Mr. Logan." The room's air turned leaden with tension. Noticing Charles's displeasure, Barbara added, "Mrs. Logan is normally home by six. Maybe something came up tonight?" Her voice trailed off uncertainly. Charles understood her kind intention but only replied with a terse, "Got it." When Barbara was about to remind him to sleep early, he abruptly sat up, leaving her words unspoken. Five minutes later, Charles changed his clothes and left Brocade Villa. Barbara saw him off downstairs, a nagging sense of forgetting something tugging at her. It wasn't until Charles's car disappeared from sight that she remembered Teresa had mentioned something in the study. Charles had just pulled out of Brocade Villa when his phone lit up with Naomi's call. "What's wrong?" he answered, his unusually gentle expression softened further by the dim interior light. Naomi's voice came softly through the phone. "Charles, I have an important performance tomorrow, but Yolanda's preschool is having Family Fun Day. I don't think I can make it." Charles didn't even consider asking Teresa first. "Teresa will go," he said, deciding for her like he always did. "Thank you," Naomi replied, her voice lifting with relief. "I've already discussed it with Yolanda. Would you mind passing the message along to Ms. Sullivan when you get a chance?" Charles said, "Don't worry. Just focus on your performance." Hanging up, he pulled the car over to the side of the road. After checking his call list for a long time, he still couldn't find Teresa's number. That was when he realized she hadn't called him in months. For years when Teresa stayed home with Yolanda, she called every day to ask if he would be home for dinner. He only occasionally returned, just to see their daughter. After they talked about having another baby, she still frequently called to check if he was coming home. He often ignored her calls, either hanging up or letting the phone ring. But when he needed to reach her, her number was right there in his phone. But now when Charles kept scrolling through his call log, her number was nowhere to be found. When he finally spotted it, the last call showed it was 3 months ago. Charles couldn't even remember if he had answered that one. Without hesitation, he dialed that number, only hearing an automated message saying the call could not go through. This had never happened before. Surprised, he tried again but got the same result. After several failed attempts, he finally gave up. He thought about video-calling Teresa on WhatsApp but couldn't find her contact. Left with no other option, he sent a text, [Yolanda has a Family Fun Day at her school tomorrow. She wants you there. East Street Preschool, at 2 pm.] With the message sent, Charles drove away. Charles assumed Teresa must be busy, which explained the missed calls. He was sure she would see the message and take Yolanda to the event. Content with this thought, he let his worries go. ***** At 9 pm, Teresa finished her evening shift at the village school. Exhausted, she trudged back to the teacher's dorm, washed up, and collapsed into bed. Her silenced phone lay untouched beside her. She didn't check it before falling asleep. The next morning, Teresa was awakened by a sound from her phone. Still half-asleep, she picked it up and saw it wasn't an alarm but a calendar reminder about her father-in-law's birthday tomorrow. In previous years, she would have woken up early to go to the morning market for groceries. Then she would spend the entire day cooking fancy dishes for the birthday dinner party. But this year was different. She decided not to do that anymore. After closing the reminder, she put down her phone and went back to sleep for a while longer. ***** Today was Friday. Teresa finished work at 2 pm. Before, she had only remembered her father-in-law's birthday, forgetting it was also her dad's special day. But this year, she would head back to her parents' house tonight and cook a hearty meal for her own family tomorrow. As for Charles's text, it had long been buried under a flood of notifications. ***** Teresa arrived at her parents' place at 6 pm, just in time for dinner. Walking into the living room, she saw the whole family were there. Monica Sullivan, deep in her puzzle, jumped when a figure appeared in the doorway. Squinting for a better look, she suddenly recognized her long-absent aunt. The puzzle pieces scattered as she sprinted across the room and clung to Teresa's legs. "Aunt Teresa, you're back!" Teresa dropped to her knees and gathered Monica into a fierce hug, pressing a kiss to the child's cheek. Words choked in her throat, her eyes stinging as she fought back tears. Monica locked her arms around Teresa's neck, smacking a loud kiss on her aunt's cheek. Then she yelled toward the kitchen, "Dad! Mom! Aunt Teresa's home!" Hearing the words, Theodore Sullivan and Yvonne Wesley emerged from the kitchen. Theodore's face lit up at first glimpse of Teresa, but the joy evaporated instantly. Noticing his stern expression, Yvonne gave him a subtle elbow nudge before turning to Teresa with a warm smile. "Just in time. Dinner's about to be served." Monica walked towards Yvonne, tugging her mother's sleeve. "Mom, Aunt Teresa's favorite is prosciutto. You said we had to save it till she visited. Now can we have some?" Yvonne tapped Monica's nose with a chuckle. "Such a greedy girl. Alright, we'll have some today." Monica squealed with delight, her tiny hands clapping and ponytails swinging wildly with every jump. Theodore kept his eyes averted from Teresa, his disapproval settling on Monica instead. "Don't waste your affection on those who don't appreciate it," he grumbled under his breath. Teresa's family had always loved her. But she threw herself into serving the Logans, never getting so much as a thank you. They took her for granted while her real family suffered. Actually, she was too ashamed to come back tonight. But she knew the love from her family was always there. Her brother and father might act tough, but they cared deeply. Her mother never stopped waiting for her. Her sister-in-law was always kind and understanding. And her niece was so adorable. It was time to hold on to those who really loved her. The coldness of the past was only worth leaving behind. -------------------------------------------------- There are limited chapters to put here, click “learn more” to open App to continue reading (It will automatically jump to the book)