My soul—which should’ve faded away—somehow drifted across decades and landed inside Hazel Bennett’s mother.
The tiny hands in mine were as soft as little rice dumplings, warm and tender. That warmth reminded me, unmistakably, that I was alive.
“Mom.”
Three-year-old Hazel’s voice—sweet and babyish—sounded so adorable.
“Hm?”
I still had not gotten used to being called that. After all, I had never raised a child in my previous life. And this little girl was the very person whose scheming had ruined my happiness back then.
“Mom,” she said again, timid but hopeful, “can I have lunch with Daddy today?”
I hesitated for a moment, then nodded. Little Hazel’s face flushed with happiness; kids wear their feelings plainly on their faces, and she was nothing like the version of herself from my past life.
The elevator reached the top floor. When the doors opened, a perfectly made-up woman was already waiting.
“Ms. Sutton, Mr. Bennett has guests. Please wait here,” she said.
“Okay.”
I took Hazel’s hand and stepped out. The woman led us to a reception room.
She set two glasses of water on the table. As she bent, her cleavage was on full display. I murmured thanks and shifted my gaze away—only to catch Hazel staring at the woman.
Those round almond eyes fixed on the sexy woman without blinking, stunned and transfixed until the woman left the reception room.
“Hazel?”
At my voice, she jerked her head toward me as though waking from a trance. Her unfocused eyes gradually cleared; it seemed to take her a moment to recognize me.
“Mom!”
She flashed a sweet, ingratiating smile and called me that.
“Thirsty?” I asked.
“Yes.”
She nodded hard and obediently picked up the cup to sip.
Her face was round and I had the silly urge to pinch her cheek to feel it, but she isn’t my child and it felt odd to do so.
This morning she walked into my bedroom and reminded me that today was “see Daddy day.” Only then did I remember she has a father.
In the years we’d been friends she’d mentioned, again and again, how rich and loving her father was—yet I never once saw him.
I’d only run into her mother a few times.
If I had not accidentally learned about her parents’ relationship, I would never have guessed that Hazel had been born outside marriage and that her mother was only one of Mr. Bennett’s many mistresses. Now I was about to meet her father for the first time, in the body of Hazel’s mother: his mistress.
A glass clattered and my memories were cut off. Hazel burst into tears. “Mom, it hurts—wah!”
Hearing her cry, I panicked. Her tiny hand covered her face and I didn’t dare move her, so I asked anxiously, “Where does it hurt?”
She sobbed, inconsolable, words choked by her cries.
The woman who’d brought the water hurried over to ask what happened. I could only say the child kept hollering she was hurt; I didn’t know why.
“What happened?” came a stern, authoritative voice.
“Daddy!” Hazel hiccuped, darting around the table to cling to the man’s leg. He paused, bent, and ruffled her hair. “Why is Hazel crying?”
His tone, while concerned, carried no warmth.
I stood up, silent.
For one thing, I didn’t know what had happened. For another, I wasn’t sure how I should feel toward this man.
“Daddy, Hazel got burned.” Hazel pointed with a pudgy arm at the fallen cup.
“How could you not keep an eye on the child!” the man snapped.
I froze, then realized the rebuke was directed at me.
“I—”
“Daddy, it’s not Mommy’s fault!” Hazel shook his leg desperately, a tiny insect trying to shake a tree.
“Daddy, it’s that lady’s fault. The water she gave me was too hot.” Hazel pointed at the woman.
“Yes, yes, I’m sorry! Mr. Bennett, I— I didn’t mean to.” The glamorous woman was startled and apologized repeatedly.
“You can’t even manage this?” he said coldly. Then he turned to me and ordered, “Come to my office.”
He lifted his foot and pulled himself away from Hazel.
I stayed where I was, unsettled. The two glasses the woman had brought—mine was comfortably warm. There was no reason the other should be scalding.
I looked down. The overturned cup still lay on the table.
Hazel’s little face was streaked with tears. The man turned and left without seeing Hazel’s outstretched hands begging to be picked up.
I stepped forward and took her hand.
The office was elegantly furnished, cold and imposing. I set Hazel on the sofa and sat beside her. He settled into the executive chair behind his desk, distant and imperious.
“I heard from the nanny that you were drunk again a few days ago,” he said as he took a cigar from the desk drawer and lit it. “Don’t you think you’re frightening the child?”
“No, Daddy, Mommy hasn’t been drinking lately. Right, Mommy? Cough, cough…” Hazel hurried to defend me before I could speak.
He exhaled a smoke ring. “What’s the purpose of this visit?”
I was puzzled but stayed composed. “Hazel wanted to have a meal with you.”
“Oh? That’s new.”
He flicked ash and looked at Hazel. “What does Hazel want to eat?”
Hazel’s face lit up when he spoke to her. In a sweet, sing-song voice she said, “Daddy, I want to go to that new Hartwell Bistro on Red Maple Avenue. I like their egg pastries. Mommy likes the cheese pie.”
For the first time, a faint smile crossed his face and his tone softened. “And what does Daddy like, does Hazel know?”
“Steak. Mommy told me.” Hazel turned to me, eager to please. “Right, Mommy?”
In a noticeably better mood, he pressed a button on his phone. “Call the Hartwell Bistro on Red Maple Avenue. Reserve a private room for three. Have the driver fetch us at the company.”
“Okay, Mr. Bennett.” The glamorous woman answered.
The man paused, then added, “Actually, let Alex Turner handle it. Don’t bother yourself.”
“Mr. Bennett, I—” the woman started.
He cut her off and hung up.
“Mommy, Daddy said he’d have lunch with us!” Hazel announced, nearly breathless with excitement. I didn’t want to ruin her mood. Though I didn’t want to go, I nodded to her.
“Are you that happy, Hazel? Has it been a long time since you ate out?” he asked.
“No, Mommy often takes me to yummy places!” Hazel hurried to say. “I’m happy to eat with Daddy!”
“Daddy, can we go shopping after lunch?” she continued.
“Yes. Whatever you want, Daddy will buy it,” he said easily.
“I want Daddy to buy Mommy a handbag!” Hazel blurted out.
The warm atmosphere froze. Hazel’s small hand, lifted above her head, stalled in midair.
The man sneered. “That’s all you want?”
His contempt stung. I hurried to explain, “No, that wasn’t my idea. I didn’t know!”
Hazel grew tense; I watched her lower her hands, clench them, and start picking at her fingers. That tiny habit hit me like a physical blow. In the years I knew her, whenever she felt awkward or anxious she would pick at the base of her nails until they bled.
When our relationship soured, I used to find that habit disgusting.
Now, seeing three-year-old Hazel nervously picking her nails, something fierce flared up in me.
I reached out, took her hand in mine, and glared at the man. “I don’t care what you think of me. I didn’t want to come here today. She wanted to see you, and I had no reason to stop her. But seeing how you’re acting now, I regret coming.”
“Regret?” He snorted, took a puff of his cigar, then threw something at me from the drawer. “Take it. There’s two hundred thousand on this card. Enough for a bag.”
“You—”
“The table’s booked. Take her and go. I’m busy and won’t accompany you.”
Hazel’s little hand trembled in mine. Her face flushed and paled, full of fear. Furious, I let go of her hand, stood, and picked up the card.
His expression grew even more contemptuous. I walked to the desk, checked the nameplate, and flung the card back at him. “Ethan Bennett! Two hundred thousand for one hour of your time. Take her to lunch!”
He didn’t expect that move and froze. “What if I don’t go?”
“Then I’ll find her a new dad willing to eat out with her.”
02
Inside the Hartwell Bistro.
Hazel sat at the table, the egg pastries she’d asked for arranged before her, but she sat with her head down, utterly still, with no intention of eating.
“Hazel, why aren’t you eating? Don’t you like the egg pastries?” I asked, puzzled.
At my voice she jumped, snapped out of her daze, and fixed me with a blank stare for a moment before forcing a weak smile. “Okay, Mommy.”
She mechanically picked up a pastry and took a bite, a stiff smile on her face.
Watching her, I felt a mix of worry, guilt, and frustration.
“Not good?” I asked.
Her voice was rough. “They’re good. Mommy, I love egg pastries the most…”
I was about to ask what she meant when she reached for a second pastry and started eating ravenously. Sensing something was wrong, I tried to stop her, but then—she murmured, “Mommy, I’m sorry.”
“Mommy, please don’t hit me.”
Her voice was low and trembling. Tears welled in her eyes, but a smile still trembled at the corner of her mouth.
My hand froze for a moment, then reached toward her again. She shut her eyes at the sudden movement, and big tears spilled down her cheeks.
She seemed scared of me, but she didn’t pull away.
I took a tissue from the table and gently wiped her face. In a soft voice I said, “I’m sorry. Today was my fault. I’m sorry you didn’t get to have lunch with Dad.”
Her eyes opened slowly, still squinting at me. “Mom, aren’t you mad at Hazel?”
“Why would I be mad at you?”
“Hazel made you miss buying the bag and she stopped you from getting Dad’s card.”
I was taken aback—she’d been thinking about this all along. I hurried to soothe her. “Mom isn’t mad. Look, don’t I have lots of bags? And I’m not short on money! Well… I shouldn’t be.”
Just now, after I’d thrown the card at him, Ethan had still refused to eat with Hazel. He’d said if there wasn’t enough money he could put another hundred thousand on that card.
I was furious. I snatched a glass from the table and splashed the water in his face. “The child is coughing from your smoke! Are you blind or deaf?”
After dousing that awful man, I scooped Hazel up and stormed out of the company’s offices.
We were supposed to go home, but the reservation was made at The Hartwell Bistro—might as well eat.
I comforted little Hazel a bit more. She relaxed once she saw I wasn’t going to lose my temper, and began to eat. Still, I could feel her sneaking glances at my face now and then.
Ugh, I’m about to lose it.
I never raised a child. Somehow I’m suddenly a mom, and this kid’s family situation is a mess.
In my last life I made it to sixty. Even though I’d been shaken up by Hazel’s scheming, the back half of my life was steady and quiet.
Who knew how it happened—I was dragged back into life to replay this brutal chapter.
Being tied to Hazel again makes me uncomfortable.
Lately I’ve avoided her as much as possible. She’s sensible—she doesn’t come looking for me and mostly eats with Martha, or she sits quietly in the living room watching TV.
The TV isn’t loud, and she’s always quiet when she watches—no laughing or yelling.
Sometimes I watch her sit there like a little doll and wonder—are kids this easy?
“Mom, why aren’t you eating?” Hazel asked.
“Oh, me? I don’t like sweets.”
I glanced at the cheese pie in front of me. I had no appetite—entirely my fault for zoning out when ordering and picking this.
Hazel frowned and lowered her face. “Is it because Dad didn’t come?”
“No, actually… um… my taste changed.”
She’s little; she won’t see through a small fib. I ordered more.
“Do you have lamb chops?”
“Yes.”
“Pan-seared lamb chops, and one savory pie, and open a bottle of a light dry red.”
Hazel shuddered slightly when she heard me order wine.
“Never mind the wine. Bring fresh-squeezed juice and a cup of warm milk.”
“Okay.”
No matter how bad things are, fill the stomach first.
When the lamb arrived I nearly drooled. The scent was intoxicating; the fat on the surface gleamed golden.
I cut a small piece and put it in my mouth—tender, juicy, utterly delicious. I felt lightheaded, like my soul had floated free.
“Mom.”
“Mm?”
“Is the lamb good?”
“Oh my, it’s amazing—I’m telling you!” I said, cutting a bit for her and placing it on Hazel’s plate. She obediently said, “Thank you, Mom,” and took a bite.
“Mom, this lamb is so good!” she praised.
“Of course!” I bobbed my head proudly and cut a few more pieces for her.
“Do you really like lamb that much?” she asked.
“Yes!” I nodded solemnly. “It’s my favorite food in the whole world!”
Hazel nodded, not quite understanding. She had no idea that in my final days I could no longer taste anything, or how long it had been since I had enjoyed lamb this good.
We finished the meal happy and full. At checkout, I learned it was on Ethan’s tab, so I ordered another serving of egg pastries to take home.
By the time the taxi pulled up to our building, Hazel had fallen asleep on me.
Afternoon sun through the window made a soft halo on her small round face. I looked down and noticed how long and curled her lashes were when she was little, how her hair was a lighter color with natural waves—before she straightened and dyed it black to suit Daniel’s tastes. I’d almost forgotten what her hair used to look like.
Daniel… it had been more than a decade since he left me.
Thinking of Daniel brought those younger days sharply back to me, along with all the pain and tangled love and resentment. How much better everything would have been without Hazel.
“We’re here,” the taxi driver said, pulling me out of my memories. Still dazed, I paid and started to get out. As I moved, Hazel slumped into my lap.
I sighed and lifted the little one from the car.
…
Back home, barely through the door, Martha ran out, flustered. “Ms. Sutton, Mr. Bennett called—he said…”
“What?” A bad feeling rose in my chest.
“He said you have three days to move out of this house.”
03
“Don’t come any closer!”
A woman in a white gown stood on the edge of the rooftop. The wind whipped her hair across her face so you couldn’t see it clearly.
“Back off! Get away!”
She shouted as she put half her foot over the edge.
“Hazel! Come down!” The man with me sounded frantic and terrified.
I looked at him for a beat before realizing it was Daniel.
And the woman on the ledge—who else could it be but Hazel? It came back to me: today was supposed to be my wedding to Daniel. During the ring exchange someone rushed in shouting that Hazel had climbed to the top of the tallest hotel in the city, threatening to jump unless Daniel came to her—calling it a wedding gift to me.
Everyone had gathered at the hotel rooftop. All eyes were on Hazel in her wedding dress. I felt terrified and weirdly embarrassed, as if they were the couple of the day and I was the interloper spoiling the show.
“Come down—we can talk.” Daniel’s voice was steadier, calmer than before.
“Promise you’ll dump her and marry me!” Hazel shrieked—her face cold and frantic, her look at me full of hatred.
“You—” Daniel was momentarily speechless. He didn’t want to anger Hazel further, so he paused and looked back at me. I nodded.
Guests murmured; wind and whispers made a noisy, chaotic backdrop.
“Come down. We’ll go back and talk it over.” Daniel tried to calm his tone.
“Marry me today, or you’ll watch me die!” Hazel cried, growing more agitated.
“All right,” Daniel finally said. “Come down and I’ll agree.”
I forced a bitter smile. I knew it was a stalling tactic, but everything inside me felt hollow.
“Then take the wedding ring off her hand! It belongs to me!” Hazel cried, the triumph in her voice like a war horn.
Daniel glanced at me, worry creasing his brow. There was no time for stubbornness now—human life was at stake.
I reached to remove the ring that had just been placed on my finger, but no matter how hard I tried it wouldn’t budge.
As I struggled with my ring, Daniel suddenly stopped me. “Don’t take it off,” he said. He took my hand and looked up at Hazel. “I can’t marry you.”
Hazel’s eyes widened in horror.
“I love her,” Daniel said.
My heart trembled as I looked at him. How long had it been since I’d really looked at his face? He was so handsome when he was young.
“All right, all right!” Hazel screamed, laughing crazily, then turned to me with murderous eyes. “You win!”
Before anyone could react, she flung her arms out and leaped.
“No—!” I woke with a jolt, sitting up in bed, shaking. It was another dream. The events from that day, instead of fading, replayed in my head in sharper detail each time.
Enough. I’ve been tormented my whole life; I refuse to be tied to her ever again.
I had to call Ethan.
By seven a.m. I couldn’t wait.
“Hello, Mr. Bennett. It’s me.” I used a formal address since we weren’t close. His voice at the other end hummed with amusement. “Yeah? Speak.”
He sounded lazy.
“You can make me move out, but Hazel can’t end up sleeping on the street with me. You’ll have to raise her.”
“What are you trying to get from me by using her?”
“Nothing. I can’t raise her.” I hesitated, then added, “I have nothing—how could I provide for her? You have the money to protect her.”
“When she needs money, ask me and I’ll give it to you. If you think she’s a burden, take her to a children’s home.” He sounded unconcerned and hung up before I could reply.
I glared at my phone and tossed it aside in anger. Then I caught a flash near the doorway out of the corner of my eye.
I went out and looked around, but saw nothing unusual. I crept to Hazel’s room and gently pushed the unlocked door open. She was asleep in her little bed.
Martha wouldn’t be in until eight.
Maybe I’d imagined the flash.
I sat down in the living room and tried to think through our situation carefully.
Hazel’s mother was Claire Sutton. Her ID said she was only twenty-seven, while Hazel was already three. By my reckoning, Claire must have become involved with Ethan before she had even finished college.
Ethan Bennett had far more money than decency. He wanted to get rid of a mistress he might already have grown tired of, and he did not even want his own daughter. Emotionally, I felt no obligation to take responsibility for Hazel. But my current identity made things awkward. In this body, I could not simply walk away.
Besides, she was a child.
No matter what, the most important thing right now was to survive.
By the time Martha arrived, I’d already packed a pile of things. I was explaining I had to go out when Hazel came out of her room. Seeing both my hands full, she froze for a moment and asked in a small voice, “Mom, where are you going?”
I slid into my shoes and said hurriedly, “I have to go out for a bit. Be good at home, okay? There are some egg pastries in the fridge—ask Martha to warm them up for you.”
I waved at her, turned, and walked out the door. From inside came a tiny, “Bye, Mommy.”
For some reason, there was a quaver in her voice. TV dramas always make a scene out of a parent leaving and a child wailing—earth-shattering and tragic—but this wasn’t like that.
Maybe it was just my imagination.
I hopped into a cab and headed straight to Red Maple Avenue.
Red Maple was the kind of neighborhood rich people frequented. Prime real estate, plenty of luxury boutiques—and, if you looked carefully, shops that bought pre-owned designer goods.
As expected, after checking nearly every side street off Red Maple, I found one.
I dumped all the bags on the counter—thirteen handbags in total.
The owner’s eyes lit up when he saw the merchandise. Two were limited editions. I told him I had more like these at home; if his offer was fair, I wouldn’t bother shopping around.
I walked out of the store feeling lighter—money really does buy peace of mind.
With a wad of cash, I went straight to the bank.
I had searched the house and found only two bank cards. I planned to withdraw everything, open an account at a different bank, and deposit it there. For some reason, that seemed safer.
By the time I finished, it was after two in the afternoon.
I was tired and hungry and wanted to grab something to eat. For the first time since this all began, I felt a little relaxed.
I picked a random restaurant and ordered. While waiting for my food, I was already calculating how much Claire’s shoe collection from that entire wall of shoes could be worth.
Just as my order arrived, my phone rang. The home number showed on the screen.
“Hello?”
“Ms. Sutton, where…where are you? Hazel has a high fever.”
When I got to the hospital, Hazel was asleep in a bed. Fortunately, St. Clare Children’s Hospital was close by. Martha said Hazel had been treated here before, so they had files—and some nurses and doctors who remembered her.
Martha didn’t know why Hazel had a fever. My nerves were on edge. I told Martha to take care of her and went out to find the doctor.
Near the nurses’ station, I overheard two young nurses gossiping. “That little girl’s back again—with another fever.”
“Just wait. Her mom will use this excuse to call the girl’s dad for money.”
“That woman’s ruthless. She’d even use her child for a payout.”
“She’ll do anything herself for money. Why would she spare her child?”
Their words made my skin crawl, but my sixth sense told me this was about me. I stood quietly listening.
“That child is always being hospitalized with a fever. This time she really does seem ill, though. I just took her temperature: 102.2 degrees Fahrenheit. And her mother isn’t here.”
“Really? That woman’s always teaching the kid little tricks. Won’t she worry the kid will grow up crooked?”
“Why would she worry? Maybe she thinks being kept is easy money and wants her daughter to follow in her footsteps.”
“Heh—you have a sharp tongue. But you’re not wrong.”
“And I say…”
“Cough, cough!”
A man cleared his throat behind me, and it jolted me like thunder. I turned and saw a doctor—tall, clean jawline—the kind of face that made you notice him first.
The two nurses straightened up, greeting him: “Dr. Lewis.”
Then they saw me and their tones went thin. “Ms. Sutton, you’re here too.”
Their faces flushed. They exchanged nervous looks, as if worried I might blow up.
“I want to speak to the doctor treating Hazel,” I said calmly, not bringing up what I’d just heard. I had no desire to argue. I’m not the original person; besides, I’ve lived long enough to know these things aren’t worth the trouble.
“That’s Dr. Lewis,” one nurse said quickly.
“Oh—Dr. Lewis, hello. I want to know why Hazel suddenly has a fever.”
“Come into the consulting room,” Dr. Lewis said, glancing at me. “Please, sit down.”
Inside the small office—just a desk, a bed, two filing cabinets—something on the desk caught my eye: a framed photograph of four people. Dr. Lewis, a man, a woman, and a baby in the woman’s arms.
For some reason, the man and woman looked familiar. I searched my mind but found nothing and let it go. I don’t have the energy to dig into every face anymore.
“Doc, she was fine this morning,” I said bluntly. “What happened?”
“Ms. Sutton, did anything…unpleasant…happen between you and the child this morning?” He paused, choosing his words carefully.
“Unpleasant? No—when I left she’d just woken up. Could she have eaten something bad?”
He scanned my face as if seeking an answer and answered coolly, “I asked Martha. She didn’t eat this morning.”
I frowned.
“But Martha said after you left, Hazel went back to her room. At first she thought the child had fallen asleep. Later, when she went to call her to come eat, she found her lying in bed, crying. She cried until she fell asleep.”
He spoke evenly, but something inside me shifted.
“She didn’t eat lunch either. Martha found the fever in the afternoon. I ran the necessary tests—no abnormalities.”
He looked me in the eye. “She’s become run down from being so upset, and her resistance is low. That has brought on the sudden fever. Ms. Sutton, can you think of anything that might have distressed her?”
I stayed silent. But an image flashed in my head: a shadow that passed the doorway when I’d been on the phone this morning…and that tremulous goodbye I’d heard when I left.
“Ms. Sutton, children are like saplings. They grow according to how you tend them.”
As I left Dr. Lewis’s office and headed back to the ward, I felt a tangle of emotions. Did I hate Hazel? I couldn’t honestly say hatred was the right word.
More than hate, I felt pity.
Back when Hazel was alive, Daniel Lewis had told me bits about her. After she died, she became a wound in both our hearts—something neither of us spoke of, but the silence never erased her impact.
I remembered classmates and friends warning me that Hazel was not as innocent as she seemed. Some said outright that she was a two-faced manipulator, desperate for male attention and love. But after learning about her family, I felt sorry for her. Perhaps her unhappy home explained some of her faults.
“She grows the way her mother raises her. You can’t blame the child entirely.”
Young me always wanted tidy explanations for human messiness. Fate seemed to mock me—like, since you’re so clever, you take care of it now. What could I do?
Back in the ward Hazel was waking. Her big eyes blinked blearily and then found me.
“Mommy!”
She tried to sit up. I hurried over and stopped her. “Don’t move. Lie still.”
She froze and stared at me like I might vanish. I patted her pillow and helped her lie more comfortably. “Do you feel sick anywhere?”
I checked her forehead. It felt hot.
“I’m hungry…” she replied in a small, childlike voice.
“I’ll get you something to eat.”
She panicked and blurted, “I’m not hungry! Mommy don’t go…”
I paused, looked at her, then asked Martha to go instead and gave her some money. Once she left, Hazel and I were alone. I told Hazel to sleep a little longer and promised to wake her when the IV finished, but she refused.
I’m not experienced at handling children’s stubbornness, so I let her be, though I kept checking the drip every few minutes.
“Mommy, where did you go?”
She asked softly, like she’d been building up courage.
“I went to get us some money,” I said truthfully.
“Money?” she asked, puzzled. “Did you go to Daddy?”
“No, no.” I shook my head. “Remember all those bags I had when I left? I sold them—I turned them into money.”
Her little head bobbed on the pillow, not entirely understanding. “You didn’t like them anymore?”
“Not exactly,” I said after thinking. “But we need money more right now.”
She nodded, still half-comprehending, still a child.
When I looked back at the IV, she was picking at the skin around her nails. I reached out and took one of her small hands in mine.
“Mommy, when you need money, will you sell Hazel?”
Her voice was timid, her eyelids lowered, and tears had already clung to her lashes.
I sighed inwardly and reassured her softly. “No, sweetheart.”
“You’re Mommy’s treasure. Ahem…”
I felt guilty saying it and cringed at my own sentimentality. But seeing her delight, I cleared my throat and continued, “I’m selling the bags because I have too many. But there’s only one Hazel!
“And selling the bags means you and I can have a better life.
“Do you understand what I mean?”
She nodded solemnly, then reached out with her free hand and hooked her tiny index finger at me. I had no choice but to lean forward.
She put her little hand against my head and said in her baby voice, “Mommy is Hazel’s treasure too!”
Then—“smack”—she kissed my cheek.
My face grew hot. In all my years, I had never heard such an unabashed declaration of affection. I was genuinely embarrassed.
Fortunately, Martha returned just then. I asked her to feed Hazel and give me the number of the real estate agent I had asked her to find while she was out.
I explained what I needed, and we quickly scheduled viewings for the next day.
We had only three days to move, and now Hazel was ill. I was exhausted.
Single mom life is no joke!
Thankfully Hazel’s illness wasn’t serious and her fever broke quickly. After one night in the hospital, we were discharged early the next morning.
I’d planned to leave her with Martha so I could move faster, but she refused to leave me. So I had no choice but to take her along on the house-hunting, leaving Martha to finish packing.
The real estate agent was a young man named Nick.
Seeing that I had a child with me, he found an electric bike fitted with a child seat. Noticing my surprise, he smiled and explained that a tireless colleague sometimes brought her child to work when she had no childcare. She had installed the seat.
I settled Hazel into the child seat and rode behind Nick on the other electric bike. I had not ridden one in years and felt stiff and awkward.
“Mom, you’re so good at this,” Hazel said from the seat. Her voice was crisp and bright; people on the sidewalk turned to look.
“Ah… thank you,” I replied awkwardly, keeping my eyes fixed on Nick ahead of me so I would not lose him.
“Mom, you ride this so well!” Hazel gushed, practically bursting with excitement.
“Do you like riding on this electric bike?” I asked, hoping to distract her.
“I do!” she shouted. “This is better than a car!”
I couldn’t help but think of those old jokes—better to cry in a BMW than laugh on a bike. Seeing Hazel happily bobbing her head, I laughed. Kids.
That morning we saw six apartments. Only one caught my eye: a three-bedroom not far from where we lived, with a good kindergarten nearby and decent amenities—just a bit pricey.
Back in the agency’s reception room, I thought over the apartments we had seen and asked Nick about the rental arrangements.
Seeing my hesitation, Nick suggested one of the two-bedroom apartments. It had been nice enough, but I would probably need to find work, so I could not do without the nanny. Nor was I ready for such a close mother-daughter relationship with Hazel overnight.
So the three-bedroom felt more suitable.
“Can the price be lower?” I asked. In my last life I never worried about housing; who knew I’d be dealing with this now.
Sigh—once Hazel was in my life, everything became a new challenge.
“I’m sorry, Ms. Sutton, but that apartment has an excellent layout, good finishes, a convenient location, and pleasant surroundings. The nearby kindergarten is well known. Lots of wealthy families send their children there. It would make drop-off and pickup easy for you, too. The rent really is reasonable.”
“I understand what you’re saying, but it’s still a bit high. I saw dust on the coffee table in that apartment. It hasn’t been lived in for a while, right? Letting it sit empty is a loss for you guys. Lower it a bit and I’ll take it.”
Nick looked hesitant.
“Uncle, I’ll kiss you if you give Mommy a discount,” Hazel said suddenly, pushing forward from where she’d been waiting.
Nick paused, then smiled. “I’ll ask my manager about it.”
I had not expected that at all. As Nick turned to leave, I recovered enough to call, “Wait!”
He looked back, puzzled.
I didn’t have time to explain. I said, “Don’t bother asking. I’ll take it without a discount. Go draw up the contract.”
As soon as Nick left the reception room, I pulled Hazel in front of me. Sensitive as she was, she had already noticed something was wrong. Her little face was pale as she stared at me.
Honestly, I was a bit angry. I hadn’t expected such a small child to say something like that. Did she even know what she was doing?
I forced my temper down. Since Daniel’s death I rarely got angry. I thought age would mellow me, but maybe this is just the emotions of a twenty-seven-year-old body.
“Hazel, why did you tell that man that?” I asked.
“I wanted to help Mommy…” Her voice trembled, thin and small.
“I know you wanted to help, but we can’t rely on…” I swallowed the words “trading on our looks” and chose my words again. “We have to use our intelligence, our abilities, and our hard work to get what we want.”
She nodded, half-understanding.
“Kisses and hugs are for family and loved ones. You can’t kiss people just like that, okay?”
She nodded again.
“And they are definitely not something we trade for things. Do you know what I mean by a trade?”
She nodded, then shook her head—her little face full of confusion.
“But that’s what Mommy does when she asks Daddy for a card…”
That stopped me short. I struggled for an explanation. “That’s because Mommy and Daddy are a couple… It won’t happen again.”
I paused and then added, “And you mustn’t do that anymore, okay?”
She nodded earnestly and said in her baby voice that she would.
After signing the lease, I asked Nick to arrange movers. I took Hazel home to pack and had the secondhand luxury-goods dealer visit that afternoon. Martha had sorted the bags, shoes, and clothes as instructed; I agreed a price with him for the lot.
Having cash in hand calmed me a little. I wasn’t going to leave any of that stuff for Ethan; let it be my compensation for raising his daughter.
Watching Hazel’s small back as she toddled around, I quietly planned.
On the third day, Nick arrived with the movers and everyone got to work.
Hazel was curious and a little bewildered. She seemed never to have experienced a move and had little idea what it meant.
I kept giving the movers directions and she mimicked me, occasionally flashing me a thumbs-up. I didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, so I just smiled.
During a break I decided to have a little talk with her.
“Hazel.”
I set her on the couch and chose my words carefully. “Soon you, me, and Martha are going to live someplace else. Daddy might not come see you anymore. Is that okay?”
Her dark, grape-like eyes fluttered and she said with solemnity, “It’s okay, Mommy. We can go see Daddy.”
“Yes, you’re right,” I managed. Honestly, I would have preferred never to see that man again. Being in the role of his mistress put me in an awkward position.
“If—just if—we didn’t have Daddy in our lives, just you and me living together, would you be okay with that?”
She nodded seriously. “Hazel has Mommy and she’s happy.”
Sigh. Kids are weird—shouldn’t she be crying that she wants both parents? I clearly didn’t understand children.
I was still unsure how to tell her we’d been abandoned by Ethan, thinking maybe I’d wait until she was older, when the phone rang.
I picked it up.
“Third day, huh? How come you can keep your cool this time?” It was Ethan.
“Ah?” I was taken aback.
“I’m waiting at the office. Bring Hazel this afternoon. We’ll have a meal together, and I’ll buy you a few bags.” He sounded as though he were graciously forgiving me, which annoyed me.
“No thanks. I’m busy with the move,” I snapped.
“Moving? Who told you you could move?” Ethan’s voice shot up, shocked.
Hadn’t he told us to leave? Was he contradicting himself now? Before I could say anything, he ordered, “Stay home and wait for me. I’ll be there soon.”
When Ethan arrived, I was eating takeout with Hazel. The movers had finished; I’d had Martha head out with them while I waited for Ethan.
He walked right in—the door banged shut behind him like an announcement.
He glanced around and then fixed his eyes on me and Hazel.
“What are you trying to do?” he asked. Though his face was almost expressionless, his voice had an edge.
I wiped my mouth with a napkin and stood. “Moving—didn’t you tell us to leave?”
He inspected me, something unreadable crossing his face. “Are you seeing someone else?”
I hadn’t expected that. “What are you talking about? The kid’s right here!”
Hazel, still a child, kept eating and concentrating on the battle between spoon and noodles.
“Come with me!” Ethan grabbed my hand and pulled me into the bedroom, shutting the door behind us. I shook off his hand and flexed my aching wrist. Annoyed, I snapped, “Don’t manhandle the elderly!”
Ethan Bennett, who had been walking toward me, faltered for a beat. When he saw my frown, his voice softened again. "Did I hurt you?"
Even though I’ve seen just about everything in life, hearing something that syrupy still sent goosebumps up my arms.
I know I’m a sixty-year-old woman. I feel “safe” in that. But his concern reminded me that to outsiders I’m just a 27-year-old woman — and that the man in front of me is the one supporting her as his mistress.
A man and a woman alone in a room, with the atmosphere growing charged… If I did not do something now, I could be in trouble.
Ethan moved closer. Behind me was a large bed. Not good. I slid a step to the side without changing my expression and put on a businesslike tone. "If you have something to say, say it."
His softened expression stiffened, then cooled. He repeated the question, more controlled this time. "Are you seeing someone?"
"No."
I answered plainly.
"Then why are you insisting on leaving? Are you making a scene on purpose?"
"I’m trying to be independent. I want to support myself and Hazel. Is that a problem?"
"Independent?"
He tasted the word for a moment, snorted, and said, "With what? Have you ever worked? Do you know how much people earn working out there? With your experience, you couldn’t afford a single bag like that in a year. Can you handle it?"
He wasn’t wrong — that was the old Claire he remembered, not the woman I am now.
But there was no point arguing.
"Anything else? Finished? Since you’re here, take a look — the place is fine, the keys are on the rack by the door. No more issues; I’m taking Hazel and leaving."
Before I finished, Ethan suddenly stepped toward me. I jumped back and moved past him to the bedroom door. After decades of living, I know: if something feels off, get away. It’s basic self-preservation.
I grabbed the doorknob, twisted it, and the lock clicked. I breathed a little easier. I had the door just cracked open when a hard tug on my shoulder yanked me back. Before I could react, my body was slammed against the door.
Bang!
The door slammed shut again.
"What are you trying to do?"
Ethan’s voice dropped low, squeezed out through his teeth. I knew he was furious, but I didn’t know why. Wasn’t it good for him to be rid of a burden? From his earlier behavior he didn’t seem too attached to Hazel’s mother anyway.
"I want freedom."
I kept my voice steady.
"Freedom?" he echoed.
Trapped against the door, I searched for something to say. Angering him would be unwise. He was much too close. I avoided his gaze and tried to shrink away, desperate for even another inch between us.
When I stayed silent, he caught my chin and forced me to look up. Oh, I knew this move: pinning someone against a wall. It had been a popular romantic trope when I was young.
The wooden door digging into my back was uncomfortable, but that wasn’t the point. The point was that he seemed about to kiss me.
His face was close to mine. Just as I was about to kick him away, a sudden clatter outside interrupted him.
"Ma—ma—MOM!" Hazel’s cry rang out.
Ethan sighed, murmured "ungrateful," then opened the door and walked out.
Hazel was still crying. Although I was shaken, I hurried after him.
She was on the floor; her lunchbox lay overturned, a little soup splashed on her calves. Her tiny hands covered her face as she sobbed.
Ethan walked over, looked like he might pick her up, but paused for some reason. He glanced at me with a complicated expression, then said, "The preschool you wanted — it’s all arranged. It starts next week. Bring her then. My secretary will contact you about the other things."
Without another look, he left.
I rushed to Hazel, scooped her up, brushed the food off her legs, and asked, "Are you okay? Did you get hurt? Burned?"
Her crying stopped. Her little hands, which had been clamped over her eyes, parted a sliver, and she peered through them.
"Mom, did Daddy leave?" she asked timidly.
Maybe the soup had splashed near her eyes.
"He left. Are you alright? Your eyes okay?"
At my question, her hands flew open like little doors. A pair of round, grape-black eyes blinked up at me. Not a single tear. She’d been pretending!
No wonder Ethan looked at me like that — he probably thought I taught her to put on a show.
I realized then that she had deliberately bailed me out.
Her hands closed again and she giggled. “Mommy, my eyes are fine. Look, look: open sesame!” She opened her hands and looked at me, eager to please. I could hardly scold her for the deception after she had helped me. I gave her a helpless smile, and only then did she laugh freely.
The soup was not hot; her clothes were merely dirty. She had not fallen at all and was unhurt.
I set her on the sink and washed her calves and tiny feet, replaying the earlier scene in my head and feeling my cheeks warm.
"Mom, why is your face all red? Are you feverish?"
“No,” I said. “I’m getting too old for this.”
Hazel cocked her head. "Is Mom old?"
I glanced at her. Your mother is not old, I thought. But I am.
Settling into the new home went smoothly. Martha and I worked day and night for several days, but I did not feel tired. After all those years in a sickbed, having a healthy body again made even sweat and weak limbs feel like proof that I was alive.
On Monday I let Martha have two days off and took Hazel to enroll at preschool myself.
The preschool Ethan had arranged was the same one I’d liked when looking for the rental. I had worried enrollment would be a hassle — the agent, Nick, had warned it was hard to get in.
Ethan handling it saved me a lot of trouble.
When we arrived that morning, parents and kids were already waiting. We were early; everyone was greeting each other. Some children were already being left in the play area to warm up. I followed suit and encouraged Hazel to go make friends.
Watching her reluctantly let go of my hand and head for the play area, glancing back nervously now and then, made my chest ache in a small, unexpected way.
Because she’s a child, I told myself.
It certainly was not because she was Hazel Bennett. Watching her go, I thought of my previous life. Daniel and I had never had children or worried about raising them. So this was what people meant by a sweet burden.
As I stood lost in thought, something bumped my shin. A boy in a baseball cap had fallen in front of me. I crouched to help him up and only then noticed that he was also wearing a mask.
I dusted the dirt off his knee. "Are you okay?"
He answered coolly, "I’m fine. Thanks, ma’am." Then he tilted his head, looked around, and asked, "Ma’am, do you know where the teacher is?"
Right then a teacher in a uniform came out, smiling. "Good morning to all the new parents and kids. Our classroom is ready. Please come to Classroom 7 for the opening ceremony."
The kids in the play area swarmed toward their parents. Hazel returned to me with sweat on her rosy little face. After I wiped her brow, I looked up — the boy in the baseball cap had vanished. He must have gone in with his parents.
We all filed into the classroom. After a brief bustle, parents spread around the perimeter while I picked a spot in the back. Hazel sat down and I scanned the room. The boy was there, quietly seated.
Most kids looked around at their parents and the room, but he sat still, calm as a statue. I couldn’t help smiling — he looked cool.
After the director and teachers welcomed everyone and introduced themselves, they began an icebreaker. Each child received a little daisy. They were to introduce themselves in turn, give the flower to another child they wanted to befriend, and ask, “Can we be friends?”
It was a cute icebreaker. I worried, briefly, that Hazel might not get a flower and be upset — but my worry was unnecessary. Before long, she had received two daisies and happily waved the three she held at me.
Now some other children would get no flowers at all. I sighed inwardly. The game had a flaw.
Then it was the baseball-capped boy’s turn to introduce himself.
He stood and, quietly, said, “Hello everyone, my name is Daniel Lewis.”
He walked through the rows toward me at the back of the classroom. I stood rooted to the spot. He stopped in front of me and held up his daisy. “Can we be friends?” Daniel Lewis was asking me this at three years old.
Daniel Lewis. My eyes fixed on him. I forgot to reach out. A teacher had to prompt, “Don’t forget to give it to a child,” but he seemed not to hear, holding the little flower straight up.
Yes. It was him. Not a namesake. Not a dream. It was him.
"No one steals my mom!" a loud shout split the room. I snapped back to attention and saw Hazel had charged over and shoved Daniel.
The classroom went momentarily chaotic. The teacher, practiced, rushed to steady Daniel.
I called out to Hazel and told her hitting was wrong. I had Hazel apologize to Daniel. She stuck out her lower lip and quickly teared up. "It’s his fault! He tried to steal my mommy!" she sniffed.
Daniel Lewis looked at Hazel Bennett calmly, then offered the little daisy to me again.
I almost reflexively reached to take it when the teacher suddenly spoke up: "Look, Hazel’s crying. Why don’t you give the flower to her and be friends?"
Daniel shook his head, refusing.
The room froze. The teacher looked helplessly at me, hoping I’d say something, but I just stared at the two kids and felt my chest tighten.
"Sorry I’m late."
A man’s voice came from the doorway and everyone’s heads turned.
He had messy hair and, from a distance, looked familiar.
He scanned the classroom and began introducing himself. “I’m Daniel’s guardian. Where is he? Oh, there he is!”
He walked toward the back of the room, clearly puzzled by everyone’s stares. When he reached Daniel, he asked the teacher, "Has he been in trouble?"
The teacher explained what had happened. Daniel drew the daisy back against his chest. Hazel clutched my finger so hard she wouldn’t let go, shooting angry glances at Daniel.
No one could see the earthquake raging inside me.
To begin with, I recognized that man—he was the doctor I’d visited at the hospital a few days ago.
Daniel’s presence had already stunned me. I never imagined that the doctor would be his guardian.
Then who was he?
After listening, the doctor thought for a moment and asked Daniel, "The teacher said the rule is to give the flower to a classmate. Do you understand?"
Daniel nodded.
"Then would you consider giving it to this little girl, making up with her, being friends?"
Daniel lowered his head in silence, then suddenly looked up at me. I managed a shaky smile. He seemed to make up his mind, shoved the daisy into my other hand, and walked back to his seat without looking back.
The teacher and the doctor exchanged glances. The director recovered first and pushed the activity forward. Fortunately the children weren’t too disrupted and the entrance ceremony finished smoothly.
The parents began leaving the preschool. Hazel made me promise, again and again, to be there to pick her up before school let out. Nearby, the doctor was talking to Daniel, and I could not help listening.
"Why didn’t you wake me this morning?" the doctor asked.
"You were sleeping," Daniel replied.
"That’s why you should wake me!" the doctor said.
Daniel said nothing. I sneaked a look at him—and our eyes met. I hurriedly looked away and then reminded Hazel of a few things before leaving the preschool.
I had only gone a few steps when someone called behind me, “Ms. Sutton.”
I turned. It was the doctor.
"Hello, Doctor," I said.
He came over, scratched his head, and apologized awkwardly, "Sorry to cause trouble."
"It’s fine."
I looked him over. His hair was untidy and stubble showed around his mouth, nothing like his neat, serious appearance at the hospital. I pointed. “Your T-shirt is inside out.”
He glanced down, grinned, and said, “I left in a hurry. I worked the night shift last night and was still half-asleep this morning.”
I was silent for a moment, then couldn’t help asking, "You’re… Daniel’s…?"
"Uncle. My name is Mark Lewis."
A sudden, wrenching pain hit me and my eyes burned. Still, I clung to a sliver of hope and hesitated before asking, "Why weren’t his parents here?"
Mark was silent for a heartbeat, then said the thing I didn’t want to hear: "Car accident. They died."
I dropped my head and tears fell uncontrollably.
“What’s wrong? You… oh… let me find a tissue…” Flustered, he searched his pockets but found nothing.
I knew my crying must have looked inexplicable to a bystander, but the hurt in my chest wouldn’t let me stop.
That photo I’d seen on Mark’s desk flashed through my mind—him standing beside Daniel’s parents, the baby in their arms being Daniel.
In my previous life, Daniel’s parents had died when he was very young; he’d been raised by an uncle. That uncle later left the country heartbroken the year Daniel got into college and died abroad. I had never met that uncle in my past life—but now he stood before me, awkward and unsure.
Daniel had already lost his parents. Seeing him again had not given him a happier childhood. Worried about me, Mark insisted on walking me home. We lived near each other, I learned. He did not ask why I was crying. Instead, he said, “He probably kept coming to you because of your dress. His mother liked that style.” Suddenly I understood. In my previous life, Daniel had often bought me dresses in checks and sheer fabrics, and I had gradually grown fond of them too. So that was why. Even after so many years together, there were things we had never known about each other.
At home, I collapsed onto the sofa, utterly drained. I closed my eyes and the memories rose like waves. Daniel and I had met at university. He had seemed unapproachable, but his looks and grades drew plenty of admirers. Hazel was always beside him, so everyone assumed they were dating. Then a girl he rejected learned they were only childhood friends. As word spread, more girls tried their luck. So did the rumors about Hazel: she clung to him despite knowing he was not interested, acted like his girlfriend, and harassed the women who pursued him.
At first I ignored the rumors. Only as Daniel and I grew closer did I experience Hazel’s two-faced behavior myself. Yet Daniel remained faithful. We had misunderstandings, but he chose me, and even after Hazel used her death to disrupt our marriage, we supported each other to the end. His life had been marked by loss: his parents died when he was only two. At preschool today, his solitary arrival and silence had not been an attempt to look cool. He knew nobody in the crowd had come for him. I had known he and Hazel were childhood friends, but never imagined they met in preschool. In university I had envied her place in his childhood. Now I could finally be there myself, but only in this impossible role.
And Mark? Looking at that young, lively face, I could hardly connect him with the heartbroken uncle who had left the country and eventually died abroad.
Wait. Mark never married in my past life. What if I introduced him to someone? If I worked to set him up, could his future change? If his future could change, maybe other things could too.
Right now I’m Hazel Bennett’s mother. If I raise her differently, maybe Hazel wouldn’t cling to Daniel so obsessively. Maybe she wouldn’t do those extreme things.
But they’d already made enemies of each other the first day we met. Maybe my appearance had already broken their bond.
Fine—let them hate each other. Better for Hazel to dislike Daniel than to love him from afar, right?
I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. If heaven could bring me back from the dead, could it not be a little more generous and give me a sign? Perhaps a big “CORRECT!” could appear overhead.
The ceiling remained ordinary. The house was eerily quiet.
"Ring! Ring! Ring!"
The urgent ringing jolted me out of my thoughts and gave me a fright.
I answered and heard an anxious voice: "Are you Hazel Bennett’s mother?"
"Yes, this is she."
"Please come back to the preschool. Hazel and Daniel got into a fight."
When I returned to the preschool for the second time and walked into the office, Mark was already there waiting. I nodded at him to acknowledge him.
My eyes went straight to Daniel. His cap and mask were off. His head and face looked fine, and his clothes seemed undamaged. But his knee… there was a sterile bandage on it!
For a moment I was furious, but then I caught sight of Hazel. Her eyes were red and wet. My anger evaporated halfway.
"Teacher, what happened between the two kids?" I asked, keeping my temper down.
"During recess, by the sinks in the bathroom, for some reason Hazel pushed Daniel, causing him to fall and scrape his knee, but…" The teacher hesitated and glanced at Hazel, who quickly hid behind my legs.
"Hazel says Daniel splashed water on her, and she bumped into him trying to get away."
I glanced at Daniel, worried. "Is he hurt anywhere else? Did he sprain his ankle?"
Daniel met my eyes and calmly shook his head.
"Any other injuries? Will a bandage on the knee be enough? Should we go to the hospital for an X-ray to make sure he didn’t badly hurt himself?"
I looked to Mark. He’d been examining Daniel but went a little awkward at my question, hastily waving it off. "No, no—kids roughhouse. Just a scrape…"
"That’s not okay!" I snapped.
“A scratch can still be dangerous—what if he gets tetanus…”
As I spoke, I kept glancing at Daniel, wanting nothing more than to scoop him up and run to the hospital. Behind me, Hazel whimpered "Mom" a few times, but I ignored it.
“Ahem, Ms. Sutton.”
The teacher cleared her throat, cutting off my rapid-fire questions. "The issue right now is that, as the school, we have to ensure the children’s safety. We need to resolve the conflict between the two kids to prevent this from happening again. Don’t you agree?"
“Yes, yes, you’re right.”
I pulled Hazel out from behind me and ordered sternly, "Hazel, apologize to Daniel right now!"
“Mom, that’s not what happened!”
Hazel looked crushed, big tears rolling down her cheeks.
“Don’t argue!” My voice grew sharp. “Daniel’s knee is hurt. If it’s serious, I…”
“Ms. Sutton, Ms. Sutton!”
Mark could not stand by any longer. He interrupted my scolding. “It’s a disagreement between children. Let them talk it through. Don’t frighten them…”
He said that and I realized Hazel looked even more upset. One hand clung to my leg while the other wiped her face.
"Mom, Mom, it wasn’t my fault. He dumped water on me; I didn’t mean to—Mom, wahhh…"
I glanced at Daniel with concern. He spoke up then: "Auntie, I’m okay. She didn’t do it on purpose."
I was taken aback, and softened slightly as I nodded. "Hazel, even if Daniel says you didn’t mean to, he still got hurt because of you. You need to apologize. Understand?"
Hazel hiccupped and stopped crying, looked up at me, and reluctantly nodded when she saw my firm expression.
I separated her from my leg. She kept holding my hand, but finally looked at Daniel and whispered, "I’m sorry."
"It’s okay."
Little Daniel answered calmly.
“Is there anything else you’d like us to address?” the teacher asked Daniel’s uncle, turning to Mark. “Both families are here. Please tell us if there’s anything you need.”
Mark had seemed bewildered throughout. “No, nothing else. What do you think, Daniel?”
Daniel shook his head.
“All right, then…” Relieved, the teacher continued, “You two can go back to class. Mr. Lewis, thank you for coming. We’ll get in touch if anything else happens.”
Mark nodded, exchanged a few polite words, and followed the children out of the office.
“Ms. Sutton.”
Once the office emptied, the teacher called me over. I nodded.
“The other family is not taking the matter further, but I would still like to discuss it. Hazel says Daniel splashed her and that she accidentally knocked him over while trying to get out of the way. But actually…” She paused, studying my face as she chose her words. “Please don’t be upset.”
I nodded.
"Daniel didn’t splash her with water. Hazel pushed him from behind when he wasn’t looking. Our custodian saw the whole thing and reported it."
“Hazel did cry very hard, so there may be something we don’t know about. But she deliberately pushed Daniel.”
The teacher seemed worried I wouldn’t believe them or would be angry about blaming Hazel. If she only knew—this was so typical of Hazel!
I wanted to take her hand and tell her about all Hazel’s old manipulations, all the tears they had cost me. But I held back. I was Hazel’s mother now. What mattered was listening to the teacher.
"I understand. I’ll seriously reprimand her when we get home," I promised solemnly.
“I believe you will.” The teacher seemed taken aback by my indignation and continued with concern. “But she is still young and may not understand how serious her actions are. We saw what happened this morning, too. Perhaps she sees Daniel as a rival. The important thing is to guide her away from these thoughts and behaviors. Don’t you agree?”
I nodded vigorously.
Before I left, the teacher gave me a thin leaflet about communicating with children. I opened it and saw the bold heading: “My Mom and I Are Friends.”
My skin went cold at the thought of being Hazel’s ‘friend.’
I left the school building and headed toward the gate. In the distance, Mark was waiting.
“Hey, I thought the teacher had locked you up. I was planning a rescue!” he joked. I laughed. “Why is your T-shirt still inside out?”
He scratched his head, embarrassed. “I went straight to sleep when I got home and forgot to turn it right side out.”
"I’m really sorry about today. I’ll talk to Hazel," I said.
“No, please don’t. What child doesn’t have disagreements? It was just a fall. There’s no need to make such a big issue of it.” I smiled and thanked him.
We stood there awkwardly for a long beat before I broke it: "I need to stop by the grocery store for dinner ingredients. I’m off."
“Oh?” Mark scratched his head again. “Oh, I… I need groceries too.”
Without another word, he fell in step with me.
On the walk, he kept commenting about how kids these days are treated like porcelain—teachers act like any little scratch is a catastrophe. “When we were kids,” he said, “we were tougher—unless someone fell and ended up bleeding, the teachers wouldn’t worry about it.”
“Were your teachers that cautious when you were little?” he asked.
I glanced at him and thought—actually, yes. He had no idea that the three-year-old me was just starting kindergarten now.
He did not mind my silence and went on talking about how tiring but rewarding childcare could be, unaware that my thoughts had wandered. I had wondered about this before: where was the three-year-old girl I used to be, at this point in time? Where were my parents, still young? However hard I tried, I could not remember our address or phone number when I was three. I had not come to this city until university. Everything before that had grown strangely hazy. I remembered a tall, handsome father and a gentle, gracious mother. Where were they now? Would I ever see them again?
At the supermarket, Mark put an assortment of things in his cart; it was impossible to tell what he planned to cook. Seeing me compare three boxes of cookies, he smiled. “All that scrutiny just to buy cookies?”
I was comparing ingredient lists on three different cookie boxes. "Looking for peanut-free."
After comparing the labels, I put two boxes back. In the frozen-food aisle, I looked through several packs of dumplings while he tossed some instant noodles into his cart.
"All done?" he asked.
“Yes, these.” I lifted several bags of dumplings out of the freezer. “All shrimp?” he asked. “Yes.”
At checkout, I asked for two bags and separated my purchases. Mark had a full bag of his own, but insisted on carrying one of mine. When we parted, he offered it back. I smiled. “Those are for Daniel, as an apology on Hazel’s behalf.”
He peered into the bag. “These are all that boy’s favorites.” Then he looked at me in surprise. “You seem to know Daniel very well!”
I paused. “Do I?” I said softly. “My husband likes these things too.”
When I went to pick Hazel up from kindergarten, I saw her coming out of the school building with her teacher. She stood on tiptoe, craning her neck to look for me, her little brows drawn together as though something worried her. Only when she spotted me did her face break into a big smile.
I waved to her, my gaze straying over the children until I found Daniel at the very back. In his baseball cap and mask, he trailed silently behind them with his head down. Hazel ran to me, shouting, “Mom!” I thought he glanced our way then. But by the time I steadied her and looked back, he was already walking away alone.
I went over to ask the teacher whether anyone was coming to collect Daniel. She sighed. “He only has his uncle. He just called to say he couldn’t leave the hospital and that Daniel should go home on his own. I told Daniel to call me as soon as he got home so I would know he was safe.”
After saying goodbye to the teacher, I took Hazel by the hand and made a small detour. Only after I saw Daniel enter an apartment building did I feel reassured enough to go home.
I changed Hazel into her home clothes. She obediently washed her hands and face, water still beading on her cheeks as she proudly presented herself. I patted her dry, placed her in her high chair with a bowl of mashed pumpkin as a snack, then sat across from her, listening to her chatter about her first day while I tried to think how to bring up the talk I needed to have.
Earlier, when I was alone, I had thought about it for a long time. I had never raised a child. Could I take on that responsibility? And Hazel was not truly my child. Did I have the right to influence her life?
No matter how I thought about it, if we were meant to meet, then this bitter tie was fate. What had to be faced would still have to be faced.
"Mom, I think—it’s just, the preschool is so much fun!"
She gestured excitedly as she spoke and put another spoonful of pumpkin puree into her mouth.
"Hazel."
"Mm?"
“Can you tell me about the trouble with your classmate at school today?”
The moment I mentioned it, her excitement wilted. Her little head drooped until it was almost in the bowl.
I reached out and touched her cheek gently, speaking calmly.
"I’m not blaming you. I just want you to try to remember what happened because the teacher might not know the whole story. If she misunderstands you and starts not liking you because of this—what would we do?"
Her head went up a fraction. I caught her big eyes slipping a quick look at me.
“Your teacher said you pushed Daniel. Is that true?”
At Daniel’s name, Hazel’s mouth pressed tight. She paused, then nodded.
"So you pushed him because he upset you, right?"
She nodded again.
"What did he do to upset you? Did he splash water on you?"
This time she didn’t nod as decisively. Instead she tightened her lips.
“Your teacher said she didn’t see Daniel splash water on you. Was she mistaken, Hazel?”
Her shoulders gave a little shudder, and she seemed to sniff. Then she slowly shook her head. I pressed on. “No? Do you mean your teacher didn’t see it?”
Finally she lifted her chin a little. Tears had pooled in her big eyes. My heart pinched. She mumbled, "I’m sorry, Mommy. I lied. Boohoo—I’m sorry—"
She looked up at me and burst into tears, still holding pumpkin puree in her mouth and gripping the spoon in her right hand. I was torn between exasperation and amusement. I wiped her face with a tissue and soothed her. “Don’t cry. I know, I know. It’s all right, sweetheart…”
Perhaps because I had not scolded her, she gradually relaxed. Still sniffling, she did not forget to chew. I was about to tell her to spit the food out when she swallowed it and managed a compliment through her tears. “Mommy’s pumpkin puree is so yummy…”
I hid a laugh. I never suspected Hazel was such a foodie. Still, I didn’t forget why I was asking. "So can you tell me why you pushed Daniel?"
Every time she sniffed, her head bobbed unconsciously. She answered in fits and starts, "I don’t like him taking you away from me, Mommy…"
When she said it, she seemed crushed, then broke into louder sobs and hiccupped.
I jumped up and sat beside her, patting her back and calming her down. It took a long time, and only after she was sure I wasn’t mad at her did she finally settle.
After her bath that night, I told her the story of Pinocchio. When I reached the part where Pinocchio’s nose grows when he lies, Hazel instinctively covered her nose.
I was amused, but seeing that the lesson was having an effect, I kept going until I had finished the story.
When the story ended, Hazel scrambled upright on the bed and looked at me seriously. “Mommy, do you turn into a wooden puppet if you tell lies?”
I had meant to nod, to say yes. But looking at her, I thought of the day she had died in my last life, and the words that came out were, "If it’s a lie told to be kind…then no."
"What is a kind lie?" she asked.
"A kind lie is…a lie that doesn’t hurt people. Can you understand that?"
Her big eyes blinked; she nodded, confused but trusting.
She didn’t really understand, but for today that was enough. I added, "But it’s okay to lie to bad people."
Her little brows drew together. She seemed even more confused. I could see how hard she was trying to understand and was about to say she would understand when she was older. Before I could, she came over and wrapped her arms around my neck.
"I’ll never lie to Mommy again."
Her little arms were surprisingly strong. Held tightly in her hug, I felt my face grow warm. Whether it was from being squeezed so hard or something else, I could not tell.
"Will you love me forever, Mommy?"
My body stiffened.
After a long beat, I nodded.
After the fight on her first day of kindergarten, I set three rules for Hazel: no lying, no making friends with Daniel, and no fighting with him. I was not asking for much, I thought. I just wanted her not to cause him trouble.
She was thrilled I hadn’t scolded her and agreed right away.
Life at preschool settled into a peaceful routine. Habit is a powerful thing; I found myself getting used to being busy for a child.
Every morning we’d eat together; I’d drop her off, pick her up, do crafts with her. Even Martha teased me that I had suddenly learned how to be a mom.
Puzzled, I asked whether I had been unkind to Hazel before. Martha smiled. “Not unkind exactly. You just weren’t very affectionate with her, and she was afraid of you. But now she looks for Mommy the moment she opens her eyes.”
“What about before? Didn’t she do that before?” I asked.
“Goodness, you really don’t notice these things, do you?” Martha trimmed the ends off the green beans and dropped them into a bowl. “Back at Mr. Bennett’s house, you were so drunk five days out of seven that you hardly knew who you were. The other two days, you were nowhere to be found. How could you look after her?”
I lowered my eyes and went back to trimming. Martha carried on: "Hazel used to eat by herself, watch TV by herself, play alone. Every time I saw her talking to her doll, my heart—"
She sniffed despite herself. "But now we’ve moved. You’re different, and that’s good. It’s good for the child and good for you."
Martha was in her fifties and widowed. She said being idle made her anxious, so she had found work as a live-in nanny. It meant she did not have to stay at her son and daughter-in-law’s home and could earn a little extra money. She was diligent and efficient, and I liked her. When I had time, I would help her prepare vegetables and chat. Sometimes I took her shopping for clothes. She felt like an old friend my own age, and I would forget myself. “You’re still young! That color is fine. When you get to my age…” Then she would laugh. “If I could be your age again, wouldn’t that be a miracle?”
We’d become comfortable enough to speak freely. To her, I still seemed like a kid myself—about the same age as her son—and she worried about me.
"But you’re young. You should find a steady way to make a living. Kids cost more as they grow. Always asking others for money isn’t reliable."
She was referring to Ethan Bennett. I nodded in agreement and she smiled.
I had been thinking about it too. Having traveled decades into the past, I knew things that could give me an advantage in property or stocks. But I still wanted to run a business. I had been away from work for so long that I could not immediately think of a good idea.
The money from selling the bags, shoes, and clothes, added to what was already in the bank, came to a substantial sum. But simply living off it until it ran out was not a good idea. Money mattered far too much.
While I stood lost in thought, the reminder on my phone sounded. It was time to pick Hazel up.
Kids were trickling out when I arrived. There were four classes in her age group; Hazel was in Class Two. I waited outside and soon they came out.
She spotted me and waved, jumping and telling her teacher, "My mommy’s here, my mommy’s here!" The teacher exchanged a look with me before letting her go.
I fussed with her coat and backpack while she complained of being hungry, and I kept an eye out for Daniel.
Daniel was trailing the line out of the preschool when a woman called his name.
She was young and pretty, with long, smooth hair falling beside her ears and a pale apricot floral dress. Daniel went over and spoke with her for a moment. The kindergarten entrance was noisy, and I was too far away to hear what they said.
As I hesitated over whether to go and ask, the woman smiled and held out her hand to Daniel. He shook his head. I was just about to breathe a sigh of relief when he followed her away.
None of the teachers seemed to notice. A cold feeling crawled up my spine.
I grabbed Hazel’s hand to follow, but a figure stepped right in front of me and blocked my path.
“Ms. Sutton.”
I stared at the woman, surprised. Who was she?
“My son has started at this kindergarten too.” She paused. “Don’t tell me Ethan hasn’t told you?”
Her smile was icy, condescending, eyes skimming down to Hazel.
No way… this couldn’t be happening. Was this the classic showdown—wife ripping into the other woman? I didn’t want to take that blame.
“Excuse me, who are you?” Watching to make sure she did not swing her bag at my face, I drew Hazel behind me. Her little hand gripped my fingers tightly, as though she was frightened.
“What?” The woman looked startled, then gave a scornful laugh. “What game are you playing? Pretending you’ve lost your memory? Is that little act how you got Ethan into bed?”
“Watch your language in front of the children!” Her words were filthy; my temper flared. “Hazel, cover your ears!”
She obeyed, squeezing her small hands over her ears until her face squished.
“Oh, playing the innocent now?” She seemed unconcerned about the people around us. “Afraid your daughter will find out about all those shameful things you’ve done?”
People were picking up their kids and hurrying by—who would want their child hearing that kind of filth? The woman didn’t seem to care.
People are naturally curious. As others walked past me, their gazes drifted my way.
I knew I didn’t have the upper hand if things came to blows—being the other woman, I didn’t have the moral high ground.
There was no point getting into a fight I could not win. I took Hazel’s arm and turned to leave. By then, Daniel and the woman with him were completely out of sight.
"Don’t go!"
The overbearing woman put a hand against my shoulder to stop me. “I haven’t finished talking!”
"Say it, then."
I glanced anxiously in the direction Daniel had gone.
"You—since you’ve already been thrown out of Ethan’s house, you should know how he feels."
She smugly picked at her nails. "My son and I have moved in.
“I hope you two stay far away from Ethan from now on. Don’t let me catch you trying to steal my man.”
"Mom!"
A loud voice interrupted me before I could answer. The older kindergarten classes were coming out, and a chubby little boy ran toward us. The woman’s face immediately softened. She crouched and opened her arms to greet him.
I seized the chance, scooped Hazel up, and tried to escape. But the woman seemed determined to keep picking a fight.
"I’m telling you, don’t even look at Ethan."
I wanted to tell her I had no interest in Ethan Bennett, but who would believe that? It would only make me look ridiculous.
Seeing me stay silent, she seemed satisfied and couldn’t help gloating: "Even if his wife died, it still wouldn’t be your place!
“You have a daughter and you think you can compete with me and my boy?
“Dream on!”
Wait.
What did she just say?
His wife?
This woman was not his wife?
Great.
So this was even more outrageous than a wife confronting her husband’s mistress. It was one mistress attacking another!
“She’s only a daughter. How could she compare to my darling Noah?”
She crowed triumphantly. Her words grated on me. I glanced at Hazel in my arms—still obediently covering her ears, her big eyes pure and clear.
“What is wrong with having a daughter? Aren’t you someone’s daughter too?”
She hadn’t expected me to snap back; her face froze.
“Besides, if Ethan were so satisfied with you and your precious son, why would my daughter and I be in the picture at all?
“Don’t you agree?”
With that, I carried Hazel quickly in the direction Daniel had gone, ignoring the furious woman’s curses behind me.
We walked a long way and still couldn’t find Daniel or the woman. Hazel finally spoke: "Mom, how much longer should I keep covering my ears?"
"Huh? Oh—sorry, I forgot."
I put her down and took one of her hands; the other hung by her side.
"Mom, what are you looking for?"
"…Nothing."
Back home I had Martha change Hazel’s clothes and feed her, while I sat in the living room stewing. After a long hesitation I called the teacher to check on Daniel.
When the teacher said Daniel had already gone home, I breathed easier.
Who was the woman who had taken Daniel home? Mark’s girlfriend?
As I showered, I kept thinking about everything that had happened that day.
And the woman who had confronted me at the kindergarten: what was her problem? What gave her the right to criticize Claire Sutton? How could she be foolish enough to argue at the school gates? Wasn’t she afraid people would gossip about her son? Or did she think everyone should look up to her just because she had given birth to a boy?
Ethan’s son… Even the way the two mothers had chosen their children’s names reeked of rivalry. I could not help finding it absurd. What were these young women thinking?
Coming out of the bathroom, I heard voices coming from Hazel’s room. What’s going on?
I crept over. Her bedroom door was open so she could call for me if she woke in the night. In the middle of her small bed, a little mound rose under her favorite plush blanket. Her childish voice came from beneath it. “Daddy, Mommy cried today.”
“Mm… mm… it was Ms. Carter. She yelled at Mommy and pushed her. She was going to hit her, too.”
"Mm, she said Hazel and Mom should never go see Dad again."
“Mommy? Mommy’s having a bath. Mommy cried…”
I couldn’t hold back. I poked the blanket; the little body stiffened.
I poked again. The kid slowly crawled out from under the blanket, one hand hidden behind her back, sneaking a look to see if I was mad.
I looked at her, exasperated and amused. Ethan’s voice came from the phone hidden behind her. “Hello? Hello? Why aren’t you talking?”
I tipped my chin toward her. She brought the phone to her cheek. “Hazel’s going to sleep now. Bye, Daddy.”
Before he could reply, she ended the call, pushed the phone toward me, and quickly lay down. She pulled the blanket over herself, squeezed her eyes shut, and pretended to sleep.
I sighed and picked up the phone. "Hazel?"
“I’m asleep. I’ll talk to you when I wake up, Mommy.”
"Then I’ll talk to Sleeping Hazel."
No answer.
"Sleeping Hazel, can you tell me why you lied to Daddy?"
Her eyelids fluttered. She opened them a sliver and whispered, “Because Ms. Carter is a bad person.”
“Ms. Carter? The lady from the kindergarten today?”
She nodded.
So she had met that woman before. I sighed, sat on the edge of the bed, and tucked the blanket around her. “We can’t decide whether someone is bad just because we like or dislike them.”
She opened her eyes. “Didn’t you always say Ms. Carter was bad, Mom?”
I paused. “I won’t say that anymore, okay? And what’s between Daddy, Ms. Carter, and me is grown-up stuff. You don’t need to worry, okay?”
"Okay."
"Sleep."
As I left Hazel’s room, my phone rang.
“Go on.”
“Did you see Lily today?”
It took me a moment to realize Ethan meant the woman from the kindergarten. So her name was Lily Carter. “Yes, I saw her.”
"Were you angry?"
He sounded curious.
"No. It doesn’t matter."
"Is there nothing you want to tell me?"
He probed more when my voice stayed cool. I was getting tired of the conversation and just wanted it over.
"Say what you need to say."
“Noah and Hazel are at the same school, so the two children can look out for each other.
“Of course, if you don’t want to see Lily and her son, I can tell her not to bother you.
“Or… if you want, I can move Hazel or Noah to a different kindergarten.”
I was so angry I almost laughed. “Didn’t you put your son in this kindergarten on purpose? Let me guess why. You wanted two women fighting over you? You don’t even care how it affects the children? Do you think you’re an emperor, with consorts on either side? Wake up. Those days are long gone!”
This time he didn’t snap back right away; after a moment he asked hesitantly, "Are you mad?"
Good grief. Did this man’s brain get stuck in a power fantasy? Do all alpha CEOs think like this?
I was done. I hung up.
As I took Hazel to kindergarten the next morning, she seemed subdued instead of skipping along as usual.
At the gate I handed her a water bottle. "Hazel, are you upset today?"
"Mom, did you argue with Daddy?"
She hung her head and pressed the toe of her shoe against the ground.
I hesitated, not sure how to explain. I decided to tell the truth in a way she could understand. "Your dad and I—there’s a little misunderstanding. Like when you and a friend have a fight, okay?"
She nodded firmly. It struck me how much Hazel kept bottled up, especially with such complicated family relationships to face from so young an age.
I ruffled her hair. "I’ll fix it. Don’t worry."
I watched her walk into the kindergarten, still troubled. When I turned around, I saw Mark, who had brought Daniel to school. He raised a hand in greeting and came over.
"Hi again!"
This time he wore a white cotton-and-linen shirt, his hair clean and neat, and gold-rimmed rectangular glasses. He reminded me of the composed doctor I had first met at the hospital.
"Morning," I replied. "Usually I only see Daniel come by alone."
He scratched his head. "Work’s busy. I can’t always make it. Luckily the kindergarten is close."
"I saw a girl pick him up yesterday," I said.
“Oh, we went to the same school.”
Remembering that heartbreak had driven him abroad in my previous life, I asked another question. “Is she your girlfriend? She’s very pretty.”
He immediately waved both hands. “No, no, she isn’t! She wanted to consult some materials I happened to have at home. I couldn’t leave work, so she met Daniel at school to have him let her into the house.”
He seemed embarrassed at how much he was explaining and shrugged.
I wasn’t trying to pry—just nodded. Ready to leave, I made a small gesture. He understood and was about to say goodbye when a teacher rushed out and called to us, breathless. "Great, you’re still here."
“Hazel’s mother, Daniel’s uncle, could you both come inside, please?”
"What’s wrong?" we both asked.
The teacher lowered her voice and spoke quickly. “The children have been fighting. Daniel has a cut on his head.”
The teacher took Mark to the nurse’s office first. I hurried anxiously to the school office on my own. Hazel’s pigtails and clothes were in disarray, and a teacher was straightening her skirt. The moment she saw me, she cried, “Mommy!” and pulled away from the teacher to run over.
I crouched, gathering her, not even having time to ask what had happened, when I noticed a round little boy standing in the corner who looked familiar. Squinting closer, I realized it was Noah.
"What happened?" I asked the teacher.
“Hazel’s mom, please calm down first,” the teacher soothed, guiding me to sit. “Hazel and Noah had some kind of scuffle in the hallway, and Daniel somehow got involved…”
"The teachers have already gone to pull the security footage to find out what happened."
"What about Daniel?" I asked, instinctively wiping a smear of dirt off Hazel’s cheek as I spoke.
"He’s got a scrape on his head, some bleeding. They took him to the nurse. They might need to go to the hospital for X-rays to make sure there’s no other damage."
I nodded.
“Mommy, it’s all his fault!” Hazel pointed fiercely at Noah. He lowered his head and turned away as she went on. “He pulled my hair and called me names and hit me.”
"Did you hit him back?" I asked.
The teachers froze at my question.
“I… I couldn’t fight him off. He’s older than me.” Looking uncomfortable, Noah pressed himself closer to the wall.
I looked him over. He was tall and round for a four-year-old. Next to him, Hazel seemed tiny, all thin arms and legs.
The office quieted down. Through the door we could hear the distant murmur of other kids in class. We waited for the footage result; I was anxious, wanting to know how Daniel was doing.
A sharp click of high heels approached, then, as expected, a woman in a tight, sexy dress—Lily Carter—strode into the office.
Her eyes landed on me first, then shot a glare at Hazel, before moving to Noah.
Seeing his mother arrive, Noah—who’d been pressed silently to the wall—suddenly began to wail.
Lily’s temper flared. She lunged over to inspect Noah from head to toe and discovered a little scrape on his elbow. She immediately ramped up her act: “What happened? Who did this to my son’s arm?”
I ignored her and glanced at Noah’s elbow—just a little scuff, no skin broken.
“Noah’s mom, please don’t worry,” the teacher said. “There’s no bleeding. If you’re concerned, you can take him to the hospital for an X-ray later, just to be sure.”
Lily ignored the teacher and glared at me through a heavy sweep of eyeshadow, grabbing her son’s hand. “Was it her?”
Noah cried and nodded, then shook his head.
“What do you mean, shaking your head? Did she scrape your arm or not?”
"It wasn’t me!" Hazel yelled from my lap.
“Shut up!” Lily snapped viciously at Hazel.
“Don’t shout at the children!” I couldn’t help but snap back at Lily. “The teacher is pulling the footage now. We’ll know in a moment.”
“Noah’s mom, please calm down and take a seat. Let’s all stay calm and not frighten the children.” The teacher tried to keep the situation under control.
Lily sat down with an arm around Noah, still full of bluster and shooting us dirty looks now and then.
“There is also another child in the nurse’s office with a cut on his head…” The teacher glanced carefully at Lily. “We may need both of you to work with his guardian to decide whether he needs further medical checks.”
Lily nearly jumped out of her chair. “Why should we cooperate? He has a cut on his head, and my son has a scrape on his arm! Besides, who is this? What other child? Why was another child involved?”
The teacher had to explain what had happened again. As she spoke, another teacher led Mark and Daniel into the office. Mark looked icy; Daniel was expressionless. The two came over almost like a pair of emotionless robots and sat beside Hazel and me.
I nodded to Mark, then noticed where the gauze sat on Daniel’s forehead. My eyelid twitched.
The teacher asked some of the children to describe what happened. Hazel spoke quickly: she said she was walking down the hallway to class when Noah grabbed her braid and called her names.
"What did he call you?" I asked.
“He said Mommy was a… um… witch?” Hazel sounded puzzled, unsure of the word. “And he called Hazel a bastard.”
Both teachers looked uncomfortable. I frowned.
“You’re lying!” Lily barked at Hazel, and I immediately snapped, “Shut up!”
“She isn’t lying,” Daniel said suddenly, pointing at Noah. “That’s what he called her.”
Lily didn’t expect anyone to back Hazel up and immediately turned on Daniel. “What does that have to do with you?”
"Watch your language," Dr. Lewis said coldly—his first words since entering the room.
"He bullied the girl—pulled her braid and called names," Daniel finished, then fell silent like he’d completed a task.
“Is that true, Noah? Are they lying?” With both Hazel and Daniel accusing her son, Lily pressed him anxiously for an answer. “Did they gang up on you?”
Frightened by his mother’s manner, Noah kept shaking his head and then nodding, unable to say a word.
“We’re not lying!” Hazel said clearly.
“Shut up! Little tramp, just like your mother—knowing how to flirt with boys at your age!” Lily spat, her hateful glare making Hazel shiver.
I set Hazel down and before anyone could react, I crossed the room in three strides and slapped Lily across the face.
“You hit me!” Lily clutched her cheek, sprang to her feet, and swung at me. I was ready and blocked her arm.
Noah’s crying got louder.
“Please take the children out, teachers. We adults can deal with the rest,” Mark said behind me. The teacher who had just brought him and Daniel in immediately led all three children out.
Lily glared at me, her chest heaving above the low neckline of her dress. I flung her arm aside, turned, and sat down again.
“Hazel’s mom, Noah’s mom, this is not good for the children. Let’s wait for the video. It should be here soon,” the teacher said.
A moment later someone came in with a USB drive, handed it to the teacher, whispered, and left. The teacher plugged it into the computer and swiveled the screen. The three of us leaned in.
In the video, Hazel was skipping along the hallway when Noah came out of a classroom. Seeing her, he caught her pigtail and pulled so hard she nearly fell backward. He did not let go and seemed to be saying something smugly. Other children passed without intervening.
Daniel appeared in the footage and went over to them, maybe saying something to Noah. Noah shook his head and tried to pull Hazel away from Daniel. Daniel reached out to pull Hazel free; Noah shoved Daniel hard with his other hand. Daniel staggered and hit the door frame with his head.
Daniel didn’t back down—he moved back in. The three of them began to tussle.
After the video, Lily’s bluster faded, although she still muttered that Noah had only been playing with the other children. The teacher ignored her and spoke matter-of-factly. “We all know what happened now. Noah did start this. As for what comes next…”
She looked at Dr. Lewis. "Do you want Daniel checked at the hospital?"
Mark answered without expression. “I’ll take him to the hospital shortly. As for the examination fees and any consequences…”
He turned his gaze to Lily. Lily snapped angrily, “So it’s about money? Fine, take him. I can afford it!”
Then she turned to the teacher, suddenly indignant: "But what about her hitting me just now?!"
I almost laughed at her—her intelligence didn’t seem much higher than her son’s.
The teacher stammered helplessly, "Th—that’s between you two. It’s not something the preschool manages…"
With nobody willing to take her side, Lily flushed red. Suddenly remembering something, she grabbed her bag and rummaged inside. “Just wait. I’m calling Ethan right now, so he can see what you and your daughter did to my precious boy!”
“I’ll wait,” I said, unruffled. “I have a few questions for him too, about the woman he chose and the child he fathered.”
"You!" She stopped mid-rummage, furious.
“I’m warning you. If Hazel tells me she has heard any more language like that, I won’t let you get away with it. You’d better be sensible and stop teaching your child such vile things. Have you forgotten your own position?”
As though something had just occurred to him, Mark turned to the teacher. “I would like Noah kept away from Daniel. I don’t want Daniel learning this sort of filthy language at kindergarten, either.” Although he addressed the teacher, the second part was meant for Lily.
Lily’s face flushed and then paled. Seeing that she had stopped making a scene, the teacher hurried to bring the matter to a close.
After all that, I decided to take Hazel home for the day. At the preschool gate we ran into Dr. Lewis and Daniel.
“Dr. Lewis,” I called. They stopped, and I led Hazel over to them.
"Hazel, say thank you to Daniel," I prompted.
"Thank you," Hazel said obediently. "Does it still hurt?"
Daniel shook his head.
"Will you take him to the hospital?" I asked Dr. Lewis. "We share responsibility here—if there’s an issue, tell me."
"Yes. X-rays," he said. Seeing my worry, he added, "Kids are tough. I checked him—he’s fine. X-rays are just for peace of mind."
I nodded.
"Mom?" Hazel suddenly asked. "Can I be friends with him?"
I hesitated and saw Daniel looking up at me. I nodded slowly.
Hazel reached out and grabbed Daniel’s hand. "Yay!"
Daniel gave a small smile and bobbed his head.
Watching them, a gnawing anxiety twisted in me. In my previous life, Daniel had a three-centimeter scar in the same spot on his forehead. He didn’t remember how he got it.
The scar sat close to the hairline and often went unnoticed. I had almost forgotten about it myself.
The gauze bandage on little Daniel’s forehead left me puzzled: If my arrival changes nothing, then what was the point of all this?
"Mom!"
Hazel’s voice pulled me back to the present.
"Mm?"
“Can I invite my friend to our house for a meal?”
Hazel grabbed my hand and shook it. Daniel tilted his head, looking at me with pleading eyes.
"But Daniel still needs to go to the hospital…"
"It’s fine. It won’t take long."
Mark saw the hope in Daniel’s eyes, even though the boy said nothing, and understood. “I’ll take him to the hospital first. We’ll be back soon.”
“Is there anything you’d like to eat? I can book a restaurant.”
“I want to eat your cooking.”
Daniel spoke up. It was the first time I had heard him speak so loudly.
"Hey, kid!"
Mark looked surprised. “Sorry, he doesn’t usually make requests like this. Maybe he’s tired of takeout. I rarely have time to cook.”
I couldn’t argue, so the four of us split up. Mark took Daniel to the hospital, and I took Hazel to the grocery store to buy ingredients.
When we got home, Martha asked why Hazel was back. Hazel announced loudly that she had gotten into a fight today.
Startled, Martha asked what had happened. Hazel said Noah had pulled her pigtail. At his name, Martha looked even more surprised. “Why is he at that kindergarten too? Was that Carter woman there today?”
“She was.”
Hazel nodded. "Mom got into a fight today too!"
"Huh?"
Having changed Hazel’s clothes, Martha set her down and hurried into the kitchen. I was organizing the ingredients. She turned me around and looked me over anxiously. “Are you hurt?”
Someone caring like that warmed me from the inside out. "I’m fine!"
“How can you be fine? That Carter woman never holds back. Last time she slapped you, your face was swollen for days. Just thinking about it makes me furious!”
She held my chin and turned my face this way and that, determined to find a mark from a slap.
Hazel ran into the kitchen clutching a doll. Seeing Martha’s expression, she asked, "Mom, what’s wrong with your face?"
“I’m checking where that Carter woman hit your mom,” Martha fussed.
“No, no! It was Mommy! Mommy hit Ms. Carter!”
Martha froze, looked at me in disbelief, then checked with Hazel. “Your mom hit that Carter woman?”
Hazel nodded so hard that her pigtails bounced against her forehead. She rubbed it quickly, then held her doll up in her left hand and mimed a slap with her right. Although her hand never touched the doll’s face, she still brought it close and blew gently on its cheek.
Martha’s eyes widened. “Well, you’ve finally found your backbone! I always said, why shouldn’t you stand up for yourself? You used to be a pushover outside, then come home and take your temper out on the family. Goodness, things really have changed!”
She rubbed her hands together excitedly. "How do you feel now?"
"Pretty great."
Why wouldn’t I feel good? In the decades of my previous life, I had never quarreled with anyone. Even Hazel, who was always causing me trouble, had never made me truly lose my temper. I had spent a lifetime swallowing my anger, and I blamed all that repression for my illness. I was not going to live that way again. Gentleness and generosity? To hell with them.
"Oh my little Hazel, your mom finally woke up!"
Martha took Hazel’s hand, giggling as they spun around.
“If you two want to dance, go into the living room. Don’t get in my way here. We have guests coming, and I need to make lunch.”
I put on my apron and tried to shoo them out of the kitchen.
When Martha heard there were guests, she immediately asked, "Is it Mr. Bennett?"
"No, ask her."
"It’s my friend, and his uncle!"
Hazel puffed up with pride.
"Oh my, you have friends now!"
Martha joined in enthusiastically. But instead of leaving the kitchen, she tried to take the apron from me.
“No, take her into the living room and play with her. The boy asked for my cooking.”
I firmly ushered them both out of the kitchen and began making lunch.
I could hear Hazel in the living room, boasting to Martha about the day’s exploits.
By the time the doorbell rang, Martha and I had just set the table.
I took Hazel with me to answer the door. An adult and a child stood outside, both looking so impassive that they might have come to collect a debt.
After we exchanged greetings, Daniel came in first, walked over to me, and held something out. “Here.”
No form of address, no explanation. I accepted it: a single blue rose.
I looked questioningly at Mark. He shrugged. “He chose it himself. Little boys like blue, I suppose.”
Daniel followed closely behind Hazel. I carefully put the flower in a vase and followed them back in.
Lunch was ready, and we all took our seats. Martha insisted on not eating with us, and I did not press her.
Hazel sat to my right, Daniel to my left, and Mark opposite me. Hazel was delighted; Daniel looked as calm and comfortable as though he were at home. Mark, on the other hand, seemed nervous.
Did these three ever meet like this in my previous life?
I couldn’t help wondering.
At the table, Mark and I barely spoke. I wanted to ask questions about Daniel, but I didn’t want to seem too eager or raise suspicion. There would be more chances later.
Now and then, Mark complimented the food and asked Daniel to agree. The boy’s cheeks were full, but he kept his solemn little expression and nodded with great dignity.
Hazel was the liveliest person at the table. As though she had never had so much to say, she chattered nonstop, finding a topic in everything. “Look at my spoon! Isn’t it pretty?” she asked Mark.
After getting a yes, she turned to Daniel. "My mom bought this spoon for me. Ask your mom to buy you one too. Friends should have the same things."
Both Mark and I were startled and glanced at Daniel, but he barely reacted.
He swallowed and said to Hazel seriously, "My uncle will buy one. Tell him where your mom bought it."
"Why not ask your mom?"
Hazel was puzzled.
"Hazel!"
I called her name in a panic.
"My dad and mom—they went to heaven."
Daniel said matter-of-factly.
"Heaven? That’s where the angels are, and the old white-bearded man. They won’t come back?"
I wanted to stop Hazel, but Mark gave an almost imperceptible shake of his head from across the table. I was not sure what he meant, but I stopped trying to interrupt her.
"They won’t come back."
Daniel looked down at his plate. Mark and I watched him anxiously. Only Hazel seemed unaware of the change in the room. “Do you miss them?” she asked.
Daniel didn’t answer with words but nodded heavily.
"Hazel, talk about something else."
I couldn’t listen any longer and finally cut them off.
Hazel nodded obediently. Her eyes darted about until she found another subject. “Do you know that you came from your mommy and daddy?”
"I know!"
Daniel brightened, as though determined to get one up on her. “I even know how my mommy had me. Do you?”
The subject shift was jarring. Mark and I were still reeling from the earlier tension, and the two kids had already moved into another heated topic.
“It starts with Mommy and Daddy…” Hazel began, but the rest came out muffled.
I clapped my hand over her mouth. "Hazel, finish your food and then watch cartoons with Daniel!"
Mark was just as flustered. I heard him murmur to Daniel, “Knowledge isn’t for showing off, young man. Eat your lunch! Here, will some braised pork keep your mouth busy?”
Before Daniel could reply, his uncle put a piece of braised pork into his mouth.
"Ding-dong—"
The doorbell rang again.
"I’ll get it! I’ll get it!"
Martha hurried from the kitchen to answer the door. I assumed it was someone from the building management and paid little attention.
"Mr. Bennett?"
Martha’s voice rose a couple of notches. “What brings you here today?”
I froze. I hadn’t expected an uninvited guest and hadn’t decided how to handle it. Hazel had already slid off her chair and dashed to the entryway, shouting, "Daddy!" as she ran.
"Why isn’t Hazel at school today?"
Mr. Bennett’s voice sounded in good spirits.
I heard his footsteps come inside and resigned myself to the situation.
"My kindergarten friend is visiting!" Hazel announced proudly.
"Is it a little girl or—"
Ethan came into the dining room before he could finish his question and saw the answer. For a moment he seemed unable to understand why Hazel’s kindergarten friend had brought a grown man along. He stared at Mark until Hazel, in his arms, eagerly introduced them. “Daddy, this is my friend Daniel, and this is his uncle.”
"Oh, I see."
Mr. Bennett composed himself and extended a hand. "Hello."
Mark was already on his feet. He extended his hand too. “Hello.” I wanted to tell Ethan to discuss whatever he needed over the phone. But he was here now, and I neither wanted to make a scene nor invite him to sit. He, however, seemed entirely unconcerned.
He put Hazel back in her seat, took off his jacket and tossed it onto the sofa, then rolled up his shirt sleeves. “Martha, bring me a bowl and chopsticks,” he called toward the kitchen.
Then he pulled up a chair between Daniel and me and asked Mark whether he wanted a drink, acting for all the world like the man of the house.
I could hardly believe him. How could a man be so shameless?
Once he had his bowl and chopsticks, Ethan made a show of tasting the food. Then he said to Mark with great authority, “Our Claire’s cooking is second to none. Try this!”
Mark remained composed. Wearing the same distant expression I had seen at the hospital, he nodded politely, neither deferential nor confrontational.
I had no interest in watching Ethan’s performance. Under the pretext of feeding Hazel, I moved my chair a little farther from him. But I could not shut out his voice. “So, you’re the boy’s uncle?”
"Why didn’t your girlfriend come with you?"
Something poked my elbow. I turned to look.
Daniel stood between Ethan and me, holding his bowl and spoon. “Will you feed me too?”
I was a little surprised—my impression of Daniel was that he wasn’t the clingy type.
I still remembered him at our first meeting in my previous life: calm and detached, with a composure well beyond his years.
Even a little contact made you feel that distance that always hung around him.
I wanted to ask him: how had such a sweet little boy grown into such a cold, unyielding man?
Before I could work out how that transformation had happened, someone placed a hand on Daniel’s head.
"Men don’t act spoiled; learn to feed yourself…"
Ethan stopped when he caught my glare and softened his stern lecture with a drawn-out, “…okay?”
I swatted his hand away, took Daniel’s bowl and spoon, and fed him a bite. "Is it good?"
"Yummy!"
Daniel didn’t hold back his praise.
"Kid, come sit here."
Mark called to him.
"No, it’s fine."
I cut in quickly, then turned to Ethan in irritation. “You sit over there. Move!”
After one startled look at my glare, Ethan reluctantly picked up his bowl and moved to Daniel’s seat. He even moved Daniel’s water cup to the seat he had just vacated, without protest.
I put Daniel on Ethan’s chair and concentrated on feeding Daniel and Hazel. When Hazel ate something tasty, she bobbed her head and insisted I give a bite to Daniel too.
The three of us were in a warm, bustling bubble while Ethan and Mark sat awkwardly at the other end of the table, quiet.
They stared at their bowls and sipped water now and then like they were parched.
Ethan recovered first. He was used to dealing with people in business, after all. “Mr. Lewis, why do I feel as though we’ve met before?”
“You have a good memory, Mr. Bennett. We’ve met a few times at the hospital, when I was treating Hazel,” Mark replied.
Ethan squinted, thought for a moment, and nodded.
“Is there no kindergarten today?”
He asked me.
“There is.”
I answered casually, then fed Hazel a mouthful of broccoli. She puckered but swallowed, and I turned to feed Daniel. "Though we all skipped class together, right, Daniel?"
Daniel smiled and nodded when I looked at him warmly.
"What do you mean?"
Ethan glanced around the table in confusion but then got an answer from his daughter.
“Daddy, we had a fight. Then Mommy and Uncle Mark brought us home.”
"A fight? The two of you?"
Only now did Hazel register who they’d fought. She pouted and refused to answer, shaking her head repeatedly.
“Isn’t that why you came?”
I was surprised. I had assumed he had come because Lily had complained.
"Of course not."
Ethan hesitated. "For another reason. But who did Hazel fight with?"
"With your precious son."
Ethan frowned as though someone had suddenly handed him a son he had never known about.
Mark took a sip of water. “Daniel, have you finished eating?”
He nodded.
“Mr. Bennett, Ms. Sutton, I need to take Daniel back to the hospital to collect his test results, so we’ll leave you now.” Mark turned to me. “Thank you for lunch. It was delicious.”
"Thank you, Auntie."
Daniel said thank you politely too.
After they left, I went back to the dining room and Ethan was asking Hazel why she fought.
"He pulled my pigtails and called me a bastard."
Hazel’s voice was low; she couldn’t meet Ethan’s eyes.
At the word "bastard," Ethan’s face darkened, but he didn’t say anything—he just stroked Hazel’s head.
When I returned, Ethan said abruptly, “That Dr. Lewis seems a little… hostile toward me?”
He chose the word carefully and studied my face. I sighed. In Mark’s eyes, I thought, a mistress and the man keeping her could hardly make a good impression. Why would he like either of us?
"He sees you as a handsome, rich young man—he’s probably jealous," I teased, rolling my eyes.
"Oh, that explains it."
Ethan looked suddenly enlightened. I couldn’t believe he didn’t pick up on sarcasm.
"What did you come for?"
I didn’t want to waste time.
"To see how you and Hazel are settling into the new place. If you need anything." He glanced around the house.
I almost asked how he had found our new address, then thought better of it. It could not have been difficult. Besides… I glanced at Hazel and remembered yesterday’s phone call.
“We don’t need anything. But if you keep coming here to bother us, we might need a security door.”
Instead of getting angry, Ethan’s tone softened. "Are you mad?"
I could not understand him. At our first meeting he had been cold, ruthless, and unreasonable. After I splashed water over him, he ordered Hazel and me out. Now he was hovering around us, all concern, asking whether I was still angry?
I looked him over. Honestly, given Ethan’s looks and circumstances, I could understand why Lily and Claire had been so eager to have his children, even knowing he had a wife.
He had a fine figure: a narrow waist, a slender back, and long legs, all emphasized by his exquisitely tailored suit. His expressive, almond-shaped eyes gave his stern face an unexpected magnetism. And, of course, he had money.
The archetypal domineering CEO in real life.
Young, naive girls could easily get swept up.
But beauty and wealth mean nothing without sense. What about genetics?
I glanced at Hazel, concerned. "Hazel, finish your food and let Auntie take you for a nap, okay?"
Hazel nodded, and Martha hurried out of the kitchen to take her for her nap.
"Say what you have to say."
Once Hazel’s door shut, I lowered my voice.
“I admit I was wrong before,” Ethan said quietly. “But I didn’t expect you to actually move out.”
"Didn’t you order us to leave within three days?" I shot back.
“I said that in anger. Besides… didn’t I give you a way to save face?”
Save face? Thinking back, he had offered me that. But I was no longer the old Claire Sutton. That sort of offer meant nothing to me.
When I said nothing, he continued. “You used to drink heavily. We talked about it several times, but you refused to change. Now I can see that you’ve stopped, so I…”
"Forget it. It’s over. Let’s not go over the past."
I didn’t want him thinking we were reminiscing. I didn’t even know what had happened between him and Claire.
Ethan pressed his lips together, took a breath, and changed the subject. “I was wrong to make you move out and then let Lily move into that house. I admit I had some… underhanded motives. But I never wanted things to come to this. You know that. I couldn’t agree to that demand you made because of difficulties I can’t explain. I understand if you can’t accept that.”
I was puzzled but didn’t ask.
"I just want to know what I can do. As long as you stop drinking and drop that demand, I’ll agree to anything. Buy another house in your name, switch Hazel’s school…"
"I want to break up."
Ethan stopped mid-sentence. He blinked, stunned. After a long moment, he seemed to pull himself together. "Are you sure?"
Something flashed in his eyes, too quickly for me to grasp. For a moment, the words “I’m sure” stuck in my throat.
We stared at each other. His back became rigid as if, the moment I nodded, he’d crumble. I never thought ending things with a man I didn’t love would feel so hard.
Reborn, I was still adjusting to this identity, but I was hopeful about the future—eating what I liked, watching the films I wanted, curling up in bed on rainy days. Every day could be new.
All I wanted now was to untangle the mess Claire Sutton left behind—to live the life I wanted in this body. Hazel was the only responsibility I would take on. I wouldn’t inherit Claire’s lover.
Silence thickened, a dangerous edge rising. Ethan sat there like a beast coiled in the dark, ready to pounce and clamp his jaws around my throat if I so much as moved.
I swallowed and, speechless, finally nodded.
Ethan’s eyelid twitched. He understood.
I waited for his response as though awaiting judgment. He sat there for a while, then stood, his face as cold as it had been at our first meeting. “I’ll have someone bring something over for you.”
Without waiting for me to ask what things, he left.
It took me a long time to realize I’d gained freedom.
The freedom to be single!
Whatever Ethan planned to send, whatever Claire had demanded of him—those ties no longer concerned me.
I’m free!
I was happy. I had every reason to be happy!
Yet I felt an inexplicable unease, as though I had torn apart a pair of star-crossed lovers with my own hands.
I cleared the dishes and took them to the kitchen, trying to scrub away that guilty feeling. When I finished, I wandered back to the living room, sat on the couch, picked up my phone and had no idea what to do.
I leaned my head against the back of the sofa and felt something hard press into it. Ethan’s jacket was still there, with something in its pocket.
Thinking he would probably send someone to collect it, I smoothed the creases I had made in the jacket and moved it aside. A small pillbox fell out of a pocket. I picked it up and turned it in my hand. It was labeled for stomach medicine and a sedative.
I put the pillbox back into his coat. My mind was a fog; my fingers tapped the phone without thinking. When I came to, I’d typed a name into the search bar: “Ethan Bennett.”
On impulse, I pressed Search. He even had a profile entry: Ethan Bennett. One of the city’s Ten Outstanding Young Entrepreneurs. An Outstanding Innovative Entrepreneur of China. A provincial honor for business philanthropy…
I didn’t expect him to have so many titles. The entry offered little personal detail, mostly achievements the company boasted about. I skimmed through in a few seconds and then jumped back to the search results.
Besides the profile, the search results included company publicity articles and videos. A few videos had remarkably high view counts. I opened one at random and was startled by the comments flying across the screen. “Ahhhh, his legs are so long!”
"Total CEO energy, I’m dying!"
"Ahhhh I want to marry him!"
"Stop—he already has a wife!"
"Mom I want to marry him!"
"He has a wife?
“No way, cryingggg…”
"Does the CEO accept mistresses?"
"I want to be a mistress too, gender no problem, I can adapt!"
I closed the video, my mouth twisting in disapproval. I really was getting old. What were these young people thinking all day? I was tempted to post, “Could you put up with that CEO’s mood swings?”
I scrolled to the bottom of the search results and tapped the second page. Just as the page changed, a shocking phrase caught my eye. I hurried back to the first page and scrolled down again.
“Outlived his father-in-law. Poisoned his long-suffering wife!”
“The dark past of Mr. B., our city’s model entrepreneur: living off his wife’s family and calling all the shots!”
Every word looked dreadful. The face in the picture was pixelated, but I could still make out Ethan’s likeness.
I hesitated for a second, then opened the post. “Does anyone still not know how Mr. B., our city’s supposedly handsomest entrepreneur, made his fortune?
“He climbed to the top over his father-in-law’s coffin!
“Those ambitious men who marry up and those vain show-offs are nothing compared with this one!
“None of them is a match for him!
“Outliving his father-in-law is one thing. At worst, he was helping himself to his wife’s family fortune. But poisoning his wife? How many people could do that?!
“According to reliable sources, Mr. B. was the only son of a poor family. His father drank and gambled and died young, leaving his mother to raise him alone.
“The family could not afford his schooling. He gathered fodder for other people’s pigs and did farm work to help his mother make ends meet.
“From that background, he still managed to marry a beautiful, wealthy woman and reach the top. How did he do it?
“That’s right!
“His father-in-law!
“Lucky Mr. B. met Mr. Summers, who then owned a small, little-known lingerie factory. His business was modest, but he was a good man. He organized charity work at the factory and donated money to build a primary school for disadvantaged children. On a visit to Mr. B.’s hometown, he noticed the boy. Who knows what he saw in him? He decided on the spot to support his education all the way through university.
“With that helping hand, Mr. B. sailed through university.
“Did you think that was all?
“You’re too kind to imagine the rest!
“Getting his education paid for was not enough. He set his sights on the Summers family’s business!
“Why else would a finance graduate go to work in a lingerie factory? He had already decided to swallow up the family’s assets!
“Now we have to introduce another key figure.
“Mr. Summers had just one daughter, I. Summers.
“Born when her father was already getting on in years, she had been pampered all her life and had never suffered. The misery that came later was all her own doing!
“After university, Mr. B. became a junior employee at the factory. Mr. Summers looked after him and often invited him home for dinner. Little by little, his daughter fell for him.
“She was determined to marry him, whatever it took!
“The lingerie business flourished, and Mr. B. took on many important duties.
“Mr. Summers was growing old. He wanted Mr. B. to marry his daughter, join their household, and succeed him in the business.
“His mother knew how much he owed Mr. Summers. But she would not agree to her son marrying into another family’s household. He ignored her and accepted anyway. She was so furious that she died!
“Now he had nothing left to worry about. He married into the Summers family, smoothly took over the factory, and became master of his own fate!
“He was ruthless, all right. How else could he have climbed out of that poor mountain village to a city like ours and made himself such a big shot?
“He knew how to get things done. He sidelined Mr. Summers and pushed him out of the factory and back home.
“To transfer the Summers family’s assets, he set up that investment management company everyone knows today and laundered the factory’s money into his own fortune.
“He did not treat his wife properly, either. With money and good looks to rely on, he chased women constantly. Then he became involved with a secretary at the company, and she had a son.
“His wife could not bear it and swallowed pesticide!
“But where would a pampered woman like her ever have encountered pesticide? Unlike Mr. B., she had not grown up working in the fields… Frightening when you think about it, isn’t it?
“She survived, but she was left unable to have children.
“Mr. Summers saw that all hope of an heir was gone. He could not bear it and died.
“Mrs. Summers could not accept what had happened and followed him to the grave.
“Now Mr. B. had no restraints left. They say he did not shed even a crocodile tear at his parents-in-law’s funeral!
“Well, if he could drive his own mother to her grave, what would a dead father-in-law or mother-in-law matter?
“Not jumping for joy must have taken some self-restraint! You all know what happened next. His wife’s suicide attempt left her chronically ill and bedridden, while he spent his days carousing. They say he barely went home. There is also a rumor that he has kept another woman these past few years and even had a child with her, though I don’t know if that part is true.
“Everything I’ve exposed here is genuine. Ask the longtime employees of the old factory. Someone will remember each of these things.
“That’s all on Mr. B. for now. I’ll update you if I get more news.”
The post ended, and I sat there, stunned.
Posts exposing people’s private lives often mix truth with lies, and it is hard to tell them apart. But this one was so detailed, even mentioning his mistress and child, that it seemed to have some credibility.
I scrolled down to hundreds of comments. “Won’t this get deleted?” “What a drama. Bookmarking for updates!” “Screenshots, screenshots!” “Is this Mr. B. actually Ethan Bennett? The photo looks like him!” “Are you being serious? The lingerie factory, I. Summers, the investment company. Could it be anyone else?” “No way. Mr. Bennett is so handsome, you’d never guess he was like that. He doesn’t carry himself like someone from a poor family. Isn’t it wrong to smear him?” “You above must be a woman dying to get him into bed. What bearing? A murderer’s bearing?” “The details make this sound like it really happened!” “It did! His wife was treated for pesticide poisoning at the hospital next to my home. I saw her!” “An eyewitness? Which hospital?” “Men who marry for money are terrifying. Women who are only children, like me, really have to be careful.” “Hey, woman above, want to date? I’m a good man.”
An endless string of reactions—skeptics, bystanders, gossip-seekers, and a few alleged witnesses supporting the poster.
I flicked back up and then one reply jumped out—the language was vicious: "You filthy liar! Where did this stray dog come from, spitting shit on people!"
More replies followed the angry comment. “What’s going on here?” “If you know the truth, tell us. What good is swearing?” “If swearing solved anything, what would we need the police for?”
Many were calling for the original replier to say more, but the account didn’t post again.
The post had shaken me, but I had finally managed to break free of Ethan. I did not want to get mixed up in his affairs again. True or false, what did any of it have to do with me?
Still, my eyes kept returning to that forceful rebuttal. I couldn’t tear myself away.
As I sat lost in thought, my phone vibrated with a new text. I opened it. “The test results are back. Daniel is fine. Don’t worry.”
"Good, glad to hear that. I can relax now," I replied.
“Daniel really likes being around you. Perhaps it’s because he lost his parents so young and I haven’t been attentive enough in looking after him. I’m sorry for the trouble.”
"No trouble," I typed quickly. Then I added another message after thinking it over: "I like Daniel too. If you ever need help, tell me. I’d be happy to help."
"Thank you."
After I closed the messages, I went back to the forum page. I hesitated for a long time, then finally clicked the profile of the replier.
The account was called “Ink & Milk.” It seemed to belong to a woman: she mostly followed skincare and parenting discussions and shared pictures of bags and shoes. Some photos showed what looked like parts of a nicely furnished home. She seemed comfortably off.
Still, someone who came out swinging like that was bold. I couldn’t decide whether to ask if she knew anything.
After thinking about it for a long time, I finally sent her a private message. “Hello. I saw your reply on a post that seemed to be making allegations about Mr. Bennett. Do you know anything about it? Would you be willing to tell me?”
After sending the PM I felt even more conflicted. Part of me thought I was asking for trouble.
On the other hand, even if the post was fake, so what?
Was I supposed to post something to clear Ethan Bennett’s name?
I had worked so hard to cut ties with that man. If I started defending him now, wouldn’t everyone think I still had feelings?
Luckily, after the message was sent, no reply came for a long time.
I felt relieved, and yet agitated—like I was split in two. Had Ethan infected me with his drama?
I tossed my phone aside and sank into the couch, trying not to think about the post.
But the words seemed to have legs, creeping back into my thoughts. When I closed my eyes, “father-in-law,” “I. Summers,” “Mr. B.,” and “marrying into the family” kept darting through the darkness.
"Mom?"
A small, childish voice.
I opened my eyes. Hazel Bennett and Martha were already up.
Seeing me half-asleep, Martha went to the bedroom for a blanket while Hazel scrambled onto the couch and curled into my arms.
Her soft hair tickled my chin.
"You awake?"
"Mm. Where’s Dad?"
"…Dad had something at the office. He left already."
"Oh…"
Her voice was tiny and still a little groggy.
I was about to ask if she wanted some water when the doorbell rang. Martha went to answer.
“Hello, is this Ms. Sutton’s residence?”
A stranger’s voice came from outside.
"Yes—who’s this?" Martha asked.
When I heard my name spoken outside, I picked up Hazel and walked to the door.
“I’m Ethan Bennett’s secretary. Mr. Bennett asked me to deliver something to Ms. Sutton.”
He handed me a document envelope and left.
I suddenly remembered Ethan saying he would send something when he left. Curiosity flared.
I opened the envelope. Inside were a contract and a note. With Hazel in my arms, I could not get them out easily. I was about to put her down when she reached into the envelope, almost up to her shoulder, and pulled out the note.
We both looked. Hazel read loudly: "IOU."
“Party A, Claire Sutton, borrowed from Party B, Ethan Bennett, for her mother’s medical treatment… I don’t know this word… a total of 5,130,000…”
"Mommy, bye! Don’t forget to pick me up!"
Hazel waved her little hand at me and ran off after Daniel Lewis, who had arrived at kindergarten first.
Watching the two kids go into the school building, I finally hailed a cab.
On the ride, I pulled the envelope from my bag and took a closer look.
A photocopy of an IOU for 5.13 million. A copy of a custody agreement.
Although I had not spent that money, there was no way I could deny the debt. The IOU clearly named Claire Sutton as the borrower and bore her thumbprint. No matter what I said, no one would believe I was not that Claire Sutton.
The custody agreement gave Ethan Bennett custody of Hazel. I had no idea what had happened between Ethan and Claire before this. Why had Claire signed an agreement giving him custody? Had she been trying to secure a share of his assets?
It didn’t make sense.
Shortly after I received the documents, Ethan had sent me a message telling me to choose. I could give him custody of Hazel and take back the original IOU, and we would go our separate ways, with nothing more to do with each other. Or I could keep Hazel and shoulder the enormous debt, facing a long, difficult struggle to repay it.
Pick one. He framed it as both his mercy and the price of my freedom.
"Or, you can choose neither. Hazel stays with you, and you don’t have to worry about the money," he added in the message.
"I’ll think about it."
When I returned to Ethan’s company, a male secretary led me into his office.
The moment I entered, a strong smell of alcohol hit me. Ethan was on the phone. Seeing me, he gestured for me to wait. I nodded and sat on the sofa.
He said very little, only occasional "mm" and "yes, do as the doctor said." The call dragged on until my eyes started to wander in boredom.
On the desk sat a bottle of whiskey, about a third full, and a stack of contract-like papers. I scanned the tabletop but couldn’t find a glass, until Ethan lifted a tumbler to his forehead.
The call sounded complicated. His brow knit; his knuckles whitened around the glass, but his tone stayed flat and calm. When he hung up, he showed no visible change in expression.
He tossed his phone aside and stood there for a long, blank moment before speaking quietly, "Have you decided?"
"I want the original IOU back."
I was blunt.
He seemed unprepared for such a direct answer. For a moment, it was as though his brain had frozen and needed to restart.
He shook his head, his frown deepening. “And the child?”
“Under the custody agreement, you get custody of her.”
I said it without expression, but I couldn’t meet his eyes.
Silence stretched. For a second I thought he’d crush the glass in his hand, but he stood frozen as if held in place. Just when I feared he might change his mind, he walked to his desk, rifled through the papers, picked up one sheet, glanced at it once with an almost pained look, and hurried over to set it down on the coffee table next to me.
“Here is the IOU. From now on, you and I… you and Hazel have nothing more to do with each other. Don’t let me see you again.”
His face was controlled and cold, but his voice trembled in a way you might not notice at first.
I couldn’t look at him. I took the IOU and said softly, "I’ll tell the kindergarten. Hazel is dismissed at four. Remember to pick her up."
"Go."
He snapped the word in a low voice.
After leaving Ethan’s company, I felt dazed. The original IOU for 5.13 million was tucked safely into an inner compartment of my handbag.
Still, something felt off.
I told myself that I had not incurred the debt, had not given birth to the child, and had not chosen to be anyone’s mistress. My conscience was clear.
Even thinking that, a shadow lingered in my chest. I didn’t go home. I wandered into a mall.
No debt to pay now, no child to raise, plenty in my bank account. I was only twenty-seven and still attractive. What could be better?
I felt light, almost ready to fly.
In my previous life, every day after I turned twenty-seven had been weighed down by guilt and repression. This time, thanks to Hazel and her parents, I could enjoy a bright, carefree youth all over again.
It felt like compensation.
I shoved my worries aside and shopped my way through the mall, eventually treating myself to the most expensive lamb chops at a restaurant to celebrate my rebirth.
It was still early after lunch, so I wandered into a wellness spa and booked a massage.
The therapist was a young woman with lovely skin and a soft voice. As she massaged me, she complimented how well I looked after myself, though she said my skin was a little dry and needed moisture. I could not help smiling: I had heard the same sales pitch at spas decades later in my previous life. I was in a good mood, and her technique really was excellent, so I readily agreed to sign up for a membership.
Her face lit up and she worked with more vigor, chatting: "You’re just in time. We have a promotion here and the mall’s running one too. Combine them and you save a lot!"
I smiled. “Yes, I noticed when I paid for my clothes earlier. It worked out to thirty percent off.”
“When you came in, I could tell you had wonderful taste. You’re so beautiful, too. This mall has lots of big brands, perfect for someone like you.”
I smiled but didn’t respond.
A little later, she brought over a two-piece sheet mask. After applying the upper piece, she suddenly exclaimed, “Now I know why you look familiar! You look just like the model for Belle!
“Especially your nose and mouth! You look so much alike!”
Her excitement made me curious. “The model for what?”
“The model for Belle, the lingerie brand. There’s a huge advertisement for them in this mall. Haven’t you seen it?”
I shook my head—I’d missed it.
"The company’s owner is famous around town, tall and handsome. His surname’s Bennett or something," she said.
My heart skipped. I said nothing. The girl didn’t notice my reaction and finished applying the other half of the mask. When I closed my eyes, she fell silent.
After the spa, I hunted down the ad space in the mall.
Seeing the model, I exhaled. I had assumed the ambassador was Claire Sutton, but they merely looked alike.
The ad was near a lingerie boutique. I lingered at the door; a salesperson came out to greet me, but I smiled and shook my head and didn’t go in.
None of it concerned me now.
When I left the mall, I glanced at the time—4:10. By then Ethan should have picked Hazel up.
A strange pang of longing hit me. I didn’t grab a cab. I walked slowly, bags in hand.
If Hazel grew up with her father now, her life would trace a different path than in my previous life.
I had to admit—Hazel was cute. Her face resembled Claire Sutton, but her mouth’s line matched Ethan’s. When she was unhappy, her lips would flatten into a straight line.
Her limbs were long; she’d grow taller—definitely Ethan’s genes.
But Claire did not seem to have been a good mother. Otherwise, how had Hazel become so full of little schemes already?
I stopped and stared at my reflection in a shop window, dazed.
I’m not Claire Sutton. I’m not Hazel’s mother.
I am…
My phone vibrated in my bag and snapped me back.
“Hello? What’s wrong?” I asked as soon as I answered.
“Where are you? Why haven’t you come to pick up your child?”
Mark sounded a little angry.
“I… I’m out. I had something to do.”
“Doing what?”
He wouldn’t let it go. Through the line I could hear a child’s faint crying.
"What’s going on?"
I hurriedly asked.
“A man I don’t recognize is here to pick up Hazel.”
“That’s her dad. You’ve met him.”
“No, it isn’t!
“Hurry over.”
He hung up before I could say it might’ve been that male secretary.
I didn’t waste a second. I flagged down a cab, told the driver the address, and called Ethan — but his phone was off.
A sudden wave of panic rushed through me. I almost shouted at the driver, “Please, go faster!”
As we approached the kindergarten gate, I saw Mark in casual clothes, holding Hazel. Daniel stood beside him, clutching the hem of his shirt. A man in a black suit and Hazel’s teacher were there too.
I yanked the car door open and rushed forward. Before I reached them I heard Hazel wailing, "I want Mommy…"
My nose inexplicably stung. I nearly cried — and mentally scolded myself for feeling so soft — but my hands still reached for Hazel, who was burying her face in Mark’s neck and sobbing.
She flinched when my hands touched her, startled, but when she saw me she sniffled briefly then cried louder and flung herself into my arms.
“Ms. Sutton, Mr. Bennett asked me to take Hazel to his office,” explained the male secretary I had seen at the company that morning. “He has something to deal with and cannot leave.”
Hazel’s crying rattled me. I patted her back endlessly and tried to hold my neck stiff so her little arms wouldn’t choke me.
The secretary looked at me uneasily, afraid he would be unable to carry out his assignment. Mark and Daniel watched me in silence, as though trying to understand what had happened.
Across the way a familiar-looking woman led a child and kept glancing toward us.
I hoisted Hazel a little higher onto one arm and dug into my bag with the other. I pulled out the thin scrap of paper and handed it to the secretary: "Take this back. Tell Ethan I want custody of the child."
Now I knew what it was like to be pinned down by a child determined to tell me how much she loved me.
“Mommy, I love you the most!”
Hazel had insisted that I lie on her little bed. She lay partly across my right shoulder, her arm wrapped around my neck and head, and repeated those words for the hundred and eighth time.
“I know! It’s time for you to sleep now.”
Embarrassed and guilty, I tried to change the subject, but she was clearly still anxious and needed reassurance.
"Mommy, do you love me?"
My eyes darted. "Of course a mom loves her child…"
She squeezed my face with both tiny hands. "Do you love me the most?"
Her eager face had a hint of anxiety. I forced a nod.
Her face lit up into a huge smile and — without warning — she crashed into me, pressing little kisses all over my face: "I love you most, most, most!"
Wow, that barrage of kisses left me blushing. To get her to fall asleep, I picked up a picture book and read until she nodded off.
I thought that would be the end of it, but the next morning she refused to go to kindergarten no matter what I said.
One minute she said her throat hurt, the next her stomach hurt. Even when I offered to take her to the doctor for a shot — which she immediately agreed to — she still refused to go to school.
She locked herself in the bathroom when I wasn’t watching. I knew she was upset, and forcing her now would make things worse.
Somebody rang the doorbell and Martha went to answer.
“Good morning, Mr. Lewis. Is there something you need?”
"Morning. It’s nothing, it’s him."
Mark followed Daniel inside. I had just pulled up the teacher’s number but put my phone down when I saw them.
Mark spoke first: “This kid said he wants to go to kindergarten with Hazel.”
Daniel nodded, expressionless. He didn’t ask where Hazel was; instead he looked straight at me. Curious, I asked, "Is there something on my face?"
He shook his head, came closer, and tugged at my hand. I crouched down.
Before I could react, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around my neck. What was it about my neck that children seemed to find so appealing these days?
I reflexively put my arms around Daniel. He obediently rested his head on my shoulder without saying a word and held me.
I looked at Mark in silent question. He gave me a bitter smile.
"Where’s Hazel?"
Mark asked.
I glanced toward the bathroom and whispered, "She’s sulking, won’t go to kindergarten, hiding in the bathroom."
Mark nodded in understanding. “Daniel, aren’t you going to get Hazel?”
The little boy slowly loosened his arms from my neck and went to knock on the bathroom door. Mark stepped beside me and murmured, “He dreamed about his mom last night.”
I froze.
“I heard him talking in his sleep last night.” Mark drew a deep breath and let it out in a slow sigh.
Hazel came out following Daniel, this time without fuss — she picked up her backpack on her own.
I teased her, "Stomach okay now?"
She pouted, took my hand, and the four of us left together.
Back home, Martha was doing laundry. I should’ve gone to see Ethan about changing the custody arrangement, but his phone was off despite several calls.
I was debating whether to go straight to his office and catch him there when Martha came out of the kitchen.
“Claire, I’d like to go out for a bit and buy something. I’ve made lunch and left it in the fridge. Would you mind having that when you get hungry?”
"Sure. Going shopping?"
I asked casually.
“Well…” Martha smiled a little shyly. “Don’t laugh, but I’m going to buy… a bra. I bought the one I’m wearing years ago, and the strap broke last night. I decided not to mend it this time.”
I nodded. Since I had nothing else to do, I stood up: "I’ll go with you. Why not? Lunch is on me today."
"No, no!" Martha rushed to refuse. "I’m not going to the big mall, just the market. It’s crowded and risky — don’t lose anything."
"Come on, it’ll be fine. Wait for me."
Despite her protests, I changed out of my skirt suit into a plain T-shirt and jeans and put on flat shoes. Before we left, I patted the canvas bag on my own shoulder. “How about this? I got it free in a supermarket promotion. Sturdy and roomy. No one will want to steal it, will they?”
The market was close enough for us to walk there. When we arrived, I was stunned. In the era I had lived through, markets were neatly organized, almost like small supermarkets. Here, vegetables, meat, roasted nuts, snacks, hardware, and household goods were all crammed into one street with no apparent order. In a gap less than a meter wide between two shoe stalls stood a big bucket of malt candy for sale.
Martha clutched my hand like she was afraid we’d get separated. Usually soft-spoken, she barreled through the crowd like an armored knight, loudly clearing the way: "Excuse me! Make way!"
"Hey, you move or what? Don’t block the way!"
"Where are you going? I think you’re doing it on purpose — why don’t you bump into me then?"
A man coming the other way bumped hard into my shoulder. Martha angrily grabbed him and demanded an explanation. I thought he was rude too, but I did not want her getting upset on my account, so I coaxed and tugged her away.
The lingerie stall was tucked away and had far fewer customers than the vegetable and meat stalls.
Martha relaxed her grip and we browsed. The stall had a surprising variety: socks, gloves, underwear, bras, insoles — even a line of black cloth shoes.
Martha studied the bras carefully, and I looked along with her. The designs were plain. Some were cotton; with the others, I could not tell what the fabric was.
She pointed to a flesh-colored bra. "How much is this one?"
The shopkeeper’s eyes slid from Martha to me, lingering at my chest as if by accident: "45 each. Pure cotton, good material, comfortable."
Using a long pole with a clip on the end, she pulled down the whole packet of bras and tossed it in front of us. “Three sizes. See which one fits.”
Martha picked out a medium. Before I could ask where she could try it on, she stretched it across her chest over her clothes and reached behind her back for the clasp. I stared, then looked around. No one seemed to care except an old man holding a pair of underpants he was about to buy, who was staring straight at Martha.
“See? It’s just the right size. Take one! It’s good quality. It won’t lose its shape even after two years.”
I thought, it would need to have a shape before it could lose it!
The bra’s cups were droopy, sewn from two flimsy pieces. From every angle, it wasn’t what I’d call a proper bra.
Martha had already taken the bra off. “The quality is nothing special…”
I nodded eagerly, wanting nothing more than to take her away. But then she began to bargain.
"Forty-five is too expensive. Twenty. I’ll take it for twenty!"
She actually bargained!
"I can’t take twenty; I’d lose money. I can’t take it," the shopkeeper protested.
"Then tell me a fair price. How much will you sell it for?"
“Come on, forty-five isn’t expensive. Ask your daughter if you don’t believe me! Forty-five is a fair price.”
As she said that she glanced again at my chest. I realized what she meant.
So she was counting on fleecing me, the supposed daughter!
“Never mind all that,” Martha said. “I’ll add five. If you can sell it for that, I’ll take one. If not, forget it!”
I tugged at Martha’s arm, trying to stop what I thought was a foolish purchase. As though she had not understood me, she calmly took twenty-five from her wallet and tossed the money toward the shopkeeper.
“All right, all right, I’ll take the loss. Twenty-five for one. The bags are hanging there; take one yourself.”
The shopkeeper took the money with the clip on her long pole, then turned to another customer.
Martha happily pulled down a black plastic bag, put the bra inside it, and tucked the package into her own bag.
And so the duel between two experts ended, with me staring in astonishment and looking for all the world like a troublesome child pestering her mother.
Afraid someone would step on me in the crowd, Martha did not linger. She took my hand and led me away from the market.
I wasn’t willing to give up, so I dragged her straight to the mall.
After more dragging and pleading, we stormed through three lingerie stores and still couldn’t find a single bra that would work.
I could hardly blame her. The prices at the specialist shops alone were enough to frighten her, and she saw no point in the elaborate designs.
"Why wear something so fancy underneath? I’m not a spring chicken anymore! No no!"
"No way, Claire, this underwire is going to kill me. I can’t breathe!"
"This one’s too thick—what is this? Push-up? Lift? They’re gonna lift it to my chin—nope, nope!"
By the last shop, Martha was pleading with me. “Claire, please, give me a break. None of these bras are made for older women like me.”
That brought me up short. Living in Claire’s beautiful twenty-seven-year-old body, how had I forgotten the years I had spent growing old?
After lunch, we browsed a while longer. Following an old habit, I bought her a piece of clothing as a gift.
As kindergarten dismissal approached, I sent Martha home and went to pick up Hazel.
Hazel brought Daniel with her as she came out of kindergarten. “Mom, can he come over to our house to play?”
I nodded and messaged Mark.
The two kids snacked at our place and then watched cartoons together. When I finally looked over, they were both slumped on the couch, asleep.
I grabbed two blankets, covered Hazel first, then moved to Daniel.
I crouched and gently draped the blanket over him. I couldn’t help staring. In my last life, I hardly saw any childhood photos of Daniel, so being this close to him felt weirdly incredible.
Daniel’s eyes were long and narrow, with slightly upturned corners. He always looked at people so calmly that it was hard to tell what he was thinking.
I gently brushed his bangs aside. The familiar scar lay faintly visible on his forehead.
He shifted and murmured, "Mom…"
By the time Mark arrived, the kids had woken and were watching cartoons again.
He stood in the doorway with a serious expression. "What’s wrong?" I asked.
He glanced into the apartment but made no move to enter. Understanding, I stepped outside and gently pulled the door to behind me.
“Isabelle Summers has died,” he said.
"Who?"
For a moment I was confused. He looked at me without answering, and then I understood. Isabelle Summers? I. Summers!
Shock, then confusion. What did this have to do with me?
We stared at each other like two blind people feeling for a path in fog. He snapped out of it first.
“A friend of mine, the woman you met once, was Isabelle Summers’ attending physician. Somehow, the news of her death got out at noon today. Reporters have been turning up at the hospital looking for information. My friend is now… hiding out at my place.”
"Oh."
I nodded.
"Reporters and other nosy people might start digging for gossip about Ethan Bennett. You and Hazel need to be careful."
He paused and cleared his throat. “Also… could my friend… stay with you for a while, until things calm down? There aren’t any women at my place, just Daniel and me…”
I blinked. A beautiful woman borrowed reference material from him, then turned to him when she needed help. Wasn’t she looking for chances to get closer to him?
I decided to give this woman I had only met once a little help behind the scenes. “Sorry, I…”
"Mom?"
The door had opened, and Hazel was peering through the gap. “So this is where you and Uncle Mark are whispering!” She giggled.
Behind Hazel, Daniel was also peering out with wide, curious eyes.
With the conversation interrupted, I called to Daniel. “Your uncle is here to take you home. Go and get your backpack.”
He nodded and ran back into the living room.
Mark tried to speak again, but I pretended to straighten Hazel’s skirt, giving him no chance. Then Hazel made an unexpected suggestion.
"Can we go to Daniel’s house to play? We haven’t been there yet!"
“Today isn’t a good time. We can go another day…”
“No, no, it’s a fine time! You’re very welcome!” Mark cut in. “And Daniel has LEGO. Hazel can come and play, can’t she, Daniel?”
Daniel came over with his backpack on, nodded, and took my hand. My resolve softened, and I could only agree.
The woman hiding at Mark’s home probably had not expected him to bring back a whole group when he had only gone to collect Daniel. As the door opened, her smile froze and her face paled. I felt awkward on her behalf.
“Who are you?” Hazel asked calmly.
Then she asked Mark, “Uncle, have we come to the wrong house?”
Mark chuckled and patted her head. “No, this is my house.”
We went inside, and Mark introduced the woman and me to each other.
Her name was Rose Rowan. She wore an oversized white shirt, clearly a man’s, with her half-dry hair resting on her shoulders. A white bra strap showed faintly through the damp fabric. Her very short denim shorts left her long, pale legs bare. I recognized the look, with the shorts almost hidden beneath the shirt. It had been popular when I was young, too. Fashion really did come full circle.
Rose looked flustered as she greeted me. "I came straight from the hospital. My clothes were gross so I showered—this shirt…"
As she spoke, she gave Mark a pleading look. But he kept his eyes fixed on Hazel and Daniel unpacking the LEGO, as though afraid they would scatter the pieces.
Until then, I had only suspected it. Now I was convinced: Rose liked Mark. She had come right to his doorstep, and the fool still did not seem to see it. At this rate, he would end up alone through sheer obliviousness.
Was this one of those stories where a man mistreated the woman who loved him, then spent his life trying to win her back? No, I could not let him repeat the path he had taken in my previous life.
I told Rose, "Hazel insisted on seeing the LEGO. Now that she has, we should go. Don’t let us keep you—get some rest!"
"But Mom, we haven’t started playing!"
Hazel and Daniel were studying an oddly shaped piece. “I don’t even know what this is…” she added.
“I’ll help!” Rose said, all but fleeing from Mark and me to kneel between the two children.
Mark and I sat on the sofa. He kept shooting me pleading looks, which I was determined not to notice. I was too busy planning how to give the two of them a chance to be alone.
"Daniel?" I called.
He looked up.
“Would you like to come to my house tonight? I’ll read you and Hazel a story.”
Daniel looked at Mark. So did Rose, with a hopeful, shy expression and a flush in her cheeks.
“No,” Mark said firmly. “Everyone at her house is a girl. You’re a boy, so you can’t go.”
Hazel was quick to counter. “Then why can she stay at your house if it’s all boys?”
Rose blushed even more and opened her mouth to speak. Before she could, Hazel asked her another disarming question. “You’ve already had a shower. Where are you going to sleep tonight?”
"In Uncle’s room," Daniel blurted. "My bed’s too small."
“No!” Mark and Rose said at once.
“I’ll sleep on the sofa!” Rose said.
“She can sleep at your place!” Mark told me.
Rose looked at Mark in shock. He hurried on. “It’s all women at Ms. Sutton’s place. I thought you might feel more comfortable there…”
Her eyes reddened. Mark could no longer pretend not to notice and began to stumble over his words. “No, it’s… Ms. Sutton wanted to ask about Isabelle Summers.”
I was surprised he could come up with a flimsy lie that actually worked. It got Rose’s attention. “Ms. Sutton—are you a reporter?”
"No, not a reporter."
Now it was my turn to feel my mouth go dry. As Isabelle Summers’ attending physician, Rose would naturally know that Isabelle was married to Ethan Bennett. My position as his mistress was hardly something I could admit with pride.
“I’m just… a little curious.” I cleared my throat. “There are those allegations online, the ones involving Isabelle Summers.”
Rose nodded but stayed quiet.
“The post says Isabelle Summers swallowed pesticide and was left unable to have children. Is that true?”
Rose glanced at Mark, then back at me. “Yes,” she said hesitantly.
“Was she in the hospital all the time?”
“For more than half of each year. The aftereffects were quite serious, so she needed close monitoring and care.”
I nodded. So the account online seemed to be true. Ethan’s face came to mind; it was hard to believe he could have treated his wife that way.
When I stopped asking questions, the room grew quiet and uncomfortable. Rose turned to Hazel. “Your name is Hazel, isn’t it?”
Hazel nodded. “My name is Hazel Bennett.”
“Hazel Bennett? Bennett…?”
Rose seemed to make the connection at once. She looked up at me in disbelief. “Then… Ethan Bennett is…?”
"He’s my father!"
The air in the room seemed to freeze. Rose’s expression turned cold. “Isabelle Summers has died, and you couldn’t wait to come and make sure?”
“Rose, it’s not what you think. I invited Ms. Sutton here.”
Mark spoke up in my defense.
“She couldn’t have children, but you did… Are you proud of yourself?” Ignoring Mark’s explanation, Rose looked at me with contempt.
"Hazel, let’s go."
I had never liked arguing, especially in a situation like this. I could talk until I was blue in the face and still never explain it. Why waste my breath?
Hazel obediently rose, patted her knees, waved goodbye to Daniel, and came over to me. I stood as well, preparing to leave.
Rose looked past Hazel toward me. “Ms. Sutton, if a man would abandon his wife because he finds you beautiful, what makes you think he won’t fall for someone else’s beauty?”
As she spoke, she slowly rose to her feet. Tall and shapely, with that cool expression on her face, she looked even more striking than before.
I couldn’t help appreciating the beauty in front of me. It was impossible not to envy youth—so radiant that I couldn’t even argue with her point. Hazel, puzzled, frowned.
"But Mom is the most beautiful in the whole world. That’s what Dad says."
I watched the little crease between her brows and laughed, scooping her up. She asked again, earnest: "Mom is the prettiest in the whole world, right?"
She turned to Mark, looking for an answer.
Mark smiled gently and pinched Hazel’s cheek. “Of course. Your mom is the prettiest in the whole world.”
Daniel sat by the Lego box and nodded quietly.
I could not bear to look at Rose’s expression. I said goodbye to Mark and left with Hazel in my arms. When he tried to see us home, I turned at the door and bared my teeth at him. “Go back inside!”
I walked back holding Hazel. She started out excitedly saying she wanted the Lego set, but before long she curled on my shoulder and fell asleep.
I could not quiet my thoughts. The hostile post about Ethan kept running through my mind. With Rose’s account added to it, I felt almost certain that he really was… Still preoccupied, I returned to the rented apartment. As I stepped out of the elevator, I saw someone slumped on the floor by my door. I looked again. It was Ethan.
Why was he here?
He sat there without reacting as we approached. When I drew closer, a strong smell of alcohol hit me.
I unlocked the door and carried Hazel to her room. Loud snores came from Martha’s room. Our shopping trip must have tired her out; she was sleeping soundly.
I went back outside the front door and shook Ethan’s arm. “Ethan? Ethan? Wake up!”
He seemed to pull himself back from a distant place, slowly lifting his head toward my voice. His narrow, bleary eyes studied me for a long moment before a drunken smile spread across his face. "Claire… I’m finally… free…"
The next morning, Daniel appeared at my door holding Mark’s hand. They were even earlier this time, early enough to invite themselves to breakfast.
I was especially happy to see Daniel. I brought them into the kitchen and served them milk and sandwiches. Then I boiled a dozen or so large shrimp, peeled them, and divided them between Daniel and Hazel.
Mark eyed the shrimp in Daniel’s bowl, took one, and popped it into his mouth. “You have to share!”
I widened my eyes at the brazen man. "How can you steal food from a kid?"
"Can’t I eat shrimp? I like shrimp too!"
Mark protested loudly.
"Then go buy your own! You’re a doctor—you have an income, right?"
Grumbling, I moved Daniel so the two children could sit together, with me between him and Mark. I kept watch in case Mark tried to take another shrimp. Hazel giggled, and Daniel smiled up at me, his eyes curving into crescents, before spooning a shrimp into his mouth.
"About yesterday, I didn’t think it through. Sorry."
Mark said suddenly.
“It’s all right. Were things okay between you two after we left?” I asked anxiously.
"Fine. We’re old friends."
"Is that auntie staying at your uncle’s house now?" Hazel piped up.
"Yes, she’s sleeping in Uncle’s room."
Little Daniel answered.
I was about to congratulate Mark on finally showing some sense when he hurried to explain, “But Daniel and I shared a bed last night.”
Well, there’s no saving him—destined bachelor forever.
"Do you like that auntie?" Hazel asked Daniel.
He set his spoon down and stared at the ceiling for a moment before shaking his head seriously.
I almost laughed at Daniel’s solemn manner. Mark gave me a nervous look. “What? What are you laughing at?”
“Nothing.” I shook my head.
In my previous life, Daniel had always done that. If someone asked him a question while he was eating, he had to put down everything he was holding and swallow before he could think of an answer. Even the most trivial question received his full attention. He never brushed anyone off.
That earnestness—no matter how many years—still felt adorable.
After breakfast, Mark went straight to work, apparently taking it for granted that I would get Daniel to kindergarten. He had even managed to get a free breakfast out of it. I had never imagined he could be so shameless!
At the kindergarten gate, I ran into Lily Carter. She looked startled to see me holding a boy’s hand, then let out a breath when she recognized Daniel. She rolled her eyes at me and walked away.
News of Isabelle Summers’ death was now public, and it was a major local story.
I didn’t linger and went home directly.
Once inside, I made a list of things I needed to do.
I had already spoken to the real estate agent about buying a home. Now I was waiting for a suitable property to become available.
The remaining tasks were the custody agreement and resolving the 5.13 million debt. I needed to settle things with Ethan quickly.
There was no way regular work would clear that debt fast. Business was a possibility—and with what I learned in my previous life, it was worth a shot.
I had a rough idea of what I wanted to do. Now I needed to find partners and connect the different parts of the supply chain. But the industry I had in mind barely existed in this era. Getting started would not be easy.
I began searching on my phone, thinking of possible keywords and noting anything that might be useful.
A notification appeared: “Eatin’ Bennett Wins Big: A Triumph for Men Who Marry for Money!”
I was about to dismiss the ridiculous headline when I realized the name was a mocking play on Ethan’s. I quickly opened the post.
“As everyone knows, I. Summers died in the hospital yesterday morning. Now the entire Summers fortune has fallen into the pockets of that live-in son-in-law, Eatin’ Bennett. After years of scheming, he has finally got what he wanted. What encouragement for other men hoping to marry their way into a family fortune!
“It works! Wealthy families with an only daughter, take note. This is what happens when you have no son!”
The post ended, “If you missed the backstory, revisit my earlier exposé. Here’s the link!” I followed it to the same post I had read before. Looking more closely, I saw that both posts were by the same account: a string of automatically generated numbers, with an otherwise empty profile.
Under the new post, people lamented the Summers family’s poor judgment and cursed “Eatin’ Bennett.” A few wondered what grudge the poster held against him.
Then a familiar avatar popped up—Ink & Milk. Her comment was as explosive as ever: "Liar—die with your whole family!"
She’d posted just a minute ago. I messaged her: "Hi, I saw your reply on a post that seems related to Mr. Bennett. Feels like there’s more to it. Can you share anything?"
She was online and replied almost immediately. “The stuff that idiot poster mentioned? You can find news about it online. Piece together the timeline yourself.”
That was all she said, so I didn’t push. I followed her hint and searched.
I had told no one about Ethan’s visit the previous night.
After that cryptic remark, he had sunk back into a drunken sleep. I found his phone and used it to call his secretary.
When the secretary arrived, he was in casual clothes. Without the stiff black suit, he looked much more relaxed.
"Thanks for your help," I said as he helped Ethan into the car.
“It’s no trouble, Ms. Sutton. Please, just call me Gao.”
I smiled and asked, "Do you know where Mr. Bennett’s house key is? If not, get him a hotel room."
Gao’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Mr. Bennett never goes home. Didn’t you know?”
"He doesn’t? Then where does he live?"
“At the office. The people who’ve worked here for years say he practically lives at the company and hardly ever goes home.”
As I thought back over that conversation, I typed “Isabelle Summers Ethan Bennett” into the search bar.
Every report I found cast Isabelle Summers’ love story in a tragic light. They told much the same tale: she had fallen in love, Ethan had gone along with it, and after the wedding his true nature had emerged. They described her poisoning as a suicide attempt and the Summers fortune as having passed out of the family’s control.
Several articles placed a major turning point for Belle Lingerie shortly after Ethan joined the factory on graduating. Before then, it had made plain cotton underwear rather than the sexy, glamorous styles it sold now. Industry insiders quoted in the articles credited Isabelle’s love for Ethan with inspiring the change in the brand’s designs.
Isabelle’s death had dealt Belle Lingerie a heavy blow. Meanwhile, allegations about Ethan marrying into the family, sidelining Mr. Summers, and Isabelle’s poisoning were spreading online. The brand’s reputation was deteriorating fast, and many commenters declared they would never enter a Belle store again.
Neither Belle’s official representatives nor Ethan had responded. People were saying he would sell the brand and put the money into other assets. They argued that a man like him would not want a permanent reminder of his past and would have no loyalty to Belle itself.
I scoured my phone for every scrap of information, noting each event and its timing on a sheet of paper. I grabbed a quick lunch and kept digging through websites, not even skipping the comments.
When the page was filled, I got a message from Mark: “Daniel’s birthday is this weekend. Don’t know how to celebrate. Any ideas?”
I glanced at the calendar and slapped my forehead—how could I forget?
Daniel’s birthday… “Let’s take him to the amusement park!”
“Together?”
“Sure.”
In my previous life, Daniel had been a precocious child who grew up relying on his uncle, but he had missed out on a great deal of childhood. Money was not the problem. Mark had never married and simply overlooked many things a child might need. Later, as a well-known pediatrician, he was extremely busy. It was hardly an exaggeration to say that Daniel had largely raised himself.
If I had a chance to help him make a better childhood, why wouldn’t I?
I looked up suggestions for a day at the amusement park and sent them to Mark. Then I put away my notes on Isabelle and Ethan. It was already time to collect the children from kindergarten.
Hazel came out of kindergarten with a pout. Huffing, she took my hand and immediately tried to lead me away.
“Wait—we’re going with Daniel too.”
Hazel shook her head like a rattle: “No!”
“I’m never playing with Daniel again!”
I blinked. “Why?”
“He played with Jessa! I won’t talk to him anymore!”
She tugged my hand and kept walking even as Daniel came out of the kindergarten, not slowing for a second.
“Who’s Jessa?” I asked.
Hazel stood on tiptoe and pointed to a little girl in a white hoodie and jeans walking out of the gate. “That one!”
“She’s really cute,” I said.
I watched the girl from a distance. Her hair was gathered in a cute bun, and she waved cheerfully to her friends as she said goodbye, looking innocent and playful.
“She’s not cute!” Hazel shouted in a fury. “Not cute at all! I’m the cutest!”
I hadn’t realized she cared so much; I’d never seen her so angry.
Her temper didn’t calm down. When Daniel walked by, she yelled, “I’m never playing with you again!”
Daniel stopped, looking bewildered. I was beginning to get angry too. “Hazel, you can’t lose your temper like that!”
Hazel’s cheeks puffed. “It’s his fault! He played with Jessa!”
When she was being unreasonable, I couldn’t help asking, “Why can’t he play with Jessa?”
Hazel picked at her fingernails, lips pursed, and suddenly burst into tears. “We met first!”
“We met first!”
Hazel had said those words more than once in my previous life. I understood her resentment, but I had no wish to keep arguing over such a pointless question. Whenever she brought up her long friendship with Daniel, I would make some vague reply and laugh it off, or simply pretend not to hear.
But it was clear this couldn’t be left unsolved now.
“Fine—great. I don’t want you to be friends with Daniel either,” I said, squatting down to Hazel’s level.
“Why?” The surprise on Hazel’s face was immediate—the same child who’d just been so indignant.
“Because Daniel was my friend first, remember? On the first day of kindergarten he gave me a little daisy. So Daniel and I met first, right?”
I smiled at Daniel standing nearby. He nodded solemnly. I turned back to Hazel. “So I don’t like sharing my friends.”
“But… but… does Mom not love me anymore?” Hazel edged closer.
“Well, being mother and daughter is one thing. Friendship is another. They’re two separate matters. I think you’re right: friends shouldn’t be shared.”
“But—”
“No buts. You don’t like your friends playing with others, and neither do I. So from now on Daniel will only play with me, not with you. I think you can understand that.”
Hazel’s lower lip stuck out and her brows knitted. She looked puzzled but didn’t protest further. I didn’t press, took each child’s hand, and we went home.
When Mark came to collect Daniel that evening, he found the children at opposite ends of the sofa, each holding a picture book and neither speaking to the other. He silently mouthed a question at me. I explained what had happened, and he shook his head with a laugh. “I can’t believe you actually did that.”
“Of course. This is my own little revenge.”
He looked at me with a hint of curiosity. I didn’t explain. Instead, I handed him a packed dinner and Daniel, and sent them out the door.
While I was bathing Hazel, she tried to mention Daniel several times. Each time, I gently cut her off. “No, he’s my friend. I can’t share him with you.”
“Never ever?” she asked.
“Hmm… let me think. Why don’t you think about it with me? How should we treat our friends’ other friends?”
Only half understanding, she fell asleep with her little mind full of worries.
Back in my room, I pulled the paper filled with Ethan Bennett notes back out, read it over in silence, and dug through the news on my phone again.
The posts kept repeating the same material, and none of the people directly involved had publicly responded.
Where was the breakthrough?
On impulse, I opened Ink & Milk’s profile again. She had posted a photograph captioned “New clothes”: a brightly colored, revealing robe that was not to my taste. I was about to close it when recognition hit me like a splash of cold water. In the background was a corner of a walk-in closet.
No way. Could it be her?
The next morning, I took Daniel and Hazel to kindergarten, then waited near the gate instead of going straight home. At last, Lily Carter came around the corner in towering heels and red leather pants, with Noah hurrying along beside her.
As Lily turned to leave after dropping Noah off, I stepped in front of her.
She glared at me. Before she could speak, I asked tentatively, “Ink & Milk?”
Her face tightened and she studied me carefully, then slowly nodded.
We sat in a secluded booth at a café that barely had customers at that hour. We kept our voices low.
“How did you know it was me?” she asked guardedly.
“I saw your closet photo,” I said bluntly. No point pretending.
She nodded, looking embarrassed, and her cheeks reddened. To hide it, she took a hurried sip of coffee, choked, and began coughing. I pushed the tissues toward her.
“Based on what you said, I pulled some news together and sorted out a timeline. I found some inconsistencies.”
She carefully dabbed her mouth with a tissue and glanced quickly at me without speaking.
“According to reports from a few years ago, Isabelle’s poisoning didn’t happen after the wedding…” I cleared my throat, suddenly unsure how to continue.
The post claimed that Isabelle had swallowed pesticide in a fit of anger after discovering that Lily had had Ethan’s child. Yet older posts and news reports gave dates for the wedding and for Isabelle’s hospitalization. The poisoning had happened before the marriage. That chronology did not support the post’s story about an affair driving her to it. Ethan had subsequently married a woman already said to be unable to work or have children.
If Ethan had married Isabelle under those circumstances, surely there had been feelings between them. So why had Lily become pregnant and had a child not long afterward?
And if Lily had had nothing to do with Isabelle’s poisoning, why not publish an anonymous account explaining everything?
“Do you know what ‘Ink & Milk’ refers to?” Lily asked suddenly.
I shook my head.
“In my first year at the company, I noticed a very handsome man. All the women talked about him. He was young but steady. Colleagues told me he had overcome opposition to change the factory’s production methods and create a completely new style of lingerie.
“That man was Ethan Bennett.”
“Before Belle changed its style, the bras you saw everywhere were so dowdy: dull colors, old-fashioned designs. I remember how miserable underwear shopping made me in college. I hated those matronly styles. How could they do justice to my young, beautiful body?”
“There were better ones, of course, but most of the brands in the big department stores were foreign. My family was comfortably off, but even we could not afford to shop like that. Then I discovered Belle.”
“That was why I joined Belle’s sales company as soon as I graduated. From the moment I arrived, I was captivated by Ethan.”
“Lots of female coworkers liked him, but they’d write him letters or knit scarves—so uncool.”
I listened quietly. Lost in the memory, Lily’s expression softened. She shook her head with a little smile. “I wanted to attract his attention, so I was always playing pranks on him.”
“One time I dropped ink into his milk and told him it was chocolate milk. He’d been working for two straight days and was exhausted—he took a gulp without thinking and drank half the cup.”
"When he realized something was off, I couldn’t hold back a smug smile. Only then did he process it and realize he’d been played.
“What do you think his expression was?”
I blinked. What expression could it be?
Embarrassed, furious, and humiliated—obviously!
Remembering how unpredictable his moods had been whenever I saw him, I could easily picture his thunderous expression after drinking milk with ink in it.
"He licked his lips and actually laughed.
“He put the cup down, got up from the chair where he had been sitting for hours, ruffled my hair, then collapsed onto the office sofa and fell asleep.”
"If before that I was merely fascinated by him, from that moment on I was completely hooked."
She laughed softly; the memory made her eyes sparkle.
I didn’t see how this was relevant to what I wanted to know, but I decided to listen patiently.
“I felt encouraged. My little prank seemed to have worked.
“At the same time, my jealousy and possessiveness grew stronger.
“I would not let other women at the company get close to him. I secretly tore up love letters left on his desk. Worst of all, I would not let anyone else play pranks on him. I treated that as my exclusive right.”
“I scared off many of the other women, but there was one person I could do nothing about: Isabelle Summers.
“What could an employee do about the boss’s daughter?”
“I don’t know what got into Isabelle. Maybe seeing me always around Ethan gave her the idea to copy my pranks. It infuriated me, but all I could do was find ways to counter them.”
"Until one day, she—"
Lily’s voice dropped, and I noticed pain cloud her face, like she was sinking into a terrible memory.
"Are you okay?" I asked softly.
She shook her head, sipped some ice water, and drew several deep breaths before letting out a long sigh. “That day, I went to the factory on business and saw Isabelle slipping furtively into the garden at one side of the grounds. Ethan looked after it when he was upset. It wasn’t just flowers; he grew vegetables there too.”
“I followed her without being seen, to find out what she was doing.
“She took a pesticide bottle to the tap, emptied it, and washed it repeatedly. She used dish soap, baking soda, citric acid… over and over. I had no idea what she was planning. After a long time, she filled the bottle with water, added something I could not identify, shook it, and smelled it. She seemed satisfied.
“Then she put the bottle back where she had found it.”
As she spoke, I felt the truth coming within reach. I sat opposite her with goosebumps rising on my skin.
"I thought, that’s her new trick.
“To stop her prank from working, I… I found a new bottle of pesticide in the storage cupboard and replaced hers with it.”
“The next morning, I arrived at work and heard people saying that Isabelle had been poisoned. They were trying to save her at the hospital. She might not survive…”
I lifted my coffee and took a careful sip, trying to calm the storm inside me.
“You probably know what happened next. Isabelle survived, but her father was already old. The shock was too much for him, and he never recovered. As he was nearing the end of his life, he entrusted her to Ethan.”
“There was no one Ethan felt more grateful to than Mr. Summers. And he thought he bore some responsibility for Isabelle’s accidental poisoning. Under those circumstances, he married her.”
“Did no one try to find out what had actually happened?”
I could not help asking. “After all, Isabelle knew that what she meant to drink wasn’t…”
"I thought about that too, but no one investigated."
Lily gave a small, strange laugh. “I suppose Mr. Summers thought his daughter had taken a prank too far. Perhaps Isabelle thought Ethan had accidentally taken away the bottle she prepared. Besides, he had promised to marry her. Maybe she even felt secretly pleased about that. Who knows?”
I remembered the photos of Isabelle Summers in her early twenties—her face proud, used to being sheltered by her parents. Still, even those cradled in loving hands can fall.
“Not long after the wedding, Mr. and Mrs. Summers died. Ethan brought in the best doctors from across the country, but Isabelle was still left unable to have children or manage even mildly strenuous activities.”
“At first, Isabelle was completely caught up in being newly married. Little by little, though, she began to understand what she had lost.
“I think she began to believe Ethan had ruined her. Those rumors were everywhere. She had nothing to occupy her and was tormented by the aftereffects. I think she became a little… mentally unwell.”
"She began to hate Ethan. She forbade him from coming home, spent her days like a madwoman—either insulting him in person or calling to curse him. Ethan went through a very painful time."
“Eventually, I could not bear the strain any longer. One evening, after everyone else had gone, I went to Ethan’s office. He was very drunk. I told him everything about switching the bottles. He stared at me in shock. I said I would turn myself in, but he just laughed as though he had lost his mind.
“I knew turning myself in would change nothing for him. Would he be able to divorce her then?”
"He told me to get out and never show up again.
“He kept drinking as though he did not care whether he lived. I snatched his bottle and drank it down. I had been barely functioning myself; every minute was torture. After that bottle, I felt as though I were floating.
“We both drank ourselves senseless. That was the night I conceived Noah.”
"I considered ending the pregnancy, but…"
Her face was conflicted. “You know how foolish you can get at a time like that. Maybe it was the hormones; I don’t know. And I had a ridiculous idea: I thought I could make it up to both of them with my child.”
I frowned, saying nothing.
“You can laugh at me,” she said. “You have every right.”
Her words struck me as odd.
“After Noah was born, I changed my mind. I no longer wanted to give him to Isabelle to make amends. He was Ethan’s son and mine. As long as we had a son together, I thought there was still a chance for us.
“Then I found out about you.”
I Came Back to Steal Her Life
"I investigated you back then. I thought you were just another woman Ethan kept around to satisfy himself while he paid for your mother's treatment. But when you got pregnant, I realized things weren't as I imagined."
“Ethan loves you. I don’t know how you see it, but that’s how it looks to me,” she said.
I wanted to argue, but when our eyes met I saw in hers self-mockery, helplessness, despair. I couldn't bring myself to speak.
“Because he loved you, he came to hate me, hate Isabelle, hate everything. Maybe he even hated himself.
“That is only my guess. I think he saw Isabelle and me as the same: girls born into comfort, with no idea of our limits, who amused ourselves by toying with other people. But you were like him. You had a hard life and parents you could not count on, yet you were resilient.”
"I'm not sure what happened between you and Ethan before, but I heard you drank heavily for a while."
At that, she looked up and smiled at me. "At one point I even hoped you'd drink yourself to death."
Her bluntness struck me as oddly honest. Claire and Lily had been rivals, after all. It was hardly surprising that she had felt that way.
"But looking at you now, you seem okay. That's good. You're a mother; you have to think about your child."
Then she signaled to the server for another glass of water.
"Why tell me all this?" I finally asked—the question that had been buzzing in my head since she began.
She picked up the second glass of water and drank half of it. “Isabelle is dead. Ethan has repaid his debt of gratitude to the Summers family.”
“Now I want him to have a chance at happiness.”
The weekend arrived. After breakfast I sat dolling myself up slowly at the vanity, humming off-key. Hazel hovered at my side, beaming, occasionally offering syrupy compliments.
"Mom, you look so pretty!"
She stood on tiptoe and clung to my leg, those big dark eyes fixed on my face without blinking.
"That makes me happy—thanks, Hazel," I said, holding back a smile.
"Mom, where are you taking me after you finish your makeup?"
The little schemer had found a clever way to ask, but I was not going to fall for it.
“Well, today is my good friend Daniel’s birthday, and I’m going to the amusement park with him. Martha will stay here with you and watch your favorite cartoons. That’s the plan.”
I pretended to carefully choose a lipstick while sneaking glances at her reaction.
She buried her face against my leg and rubbed it there. After a while, she looked up and asked in a small, unhappy voice, “Mom, can I be friends with your friend?”
I put down the lipstick and put on a troubled look. "Hmm… if my good friend gets a new buddy, I might be sad."
Her eyes blinked, her little nose twitched. "Then can't we all just be good friends together?"
“Would you be willing to be friends with Jessa too?” I asked.
When we reached the amusement park, Mark waved from a distance. I was holding Hazel’s hand. Daniel ran over and took my other hand, and I walked the two children toward the adults. “Hello, Ms. Rowan,” I said to Rose.
Standing beside Mark, Rose looked sour-faced and gave a reluctant nod.
“Let’s take a photo together,” Mark suggested.
I took the camera from him. "I'll take it for you."
I nudged Daniel toward Mark and stepped back. Hazel clung to my bag strap and followed close behind.
As soon as I had photographed Mark and Daniel, Rose stepped into the frame beside Mark.
The three of them made a striking picture: Rose, bright and beautiful; Mark, handsome and composed; and Daniel, still a little boy but already with his own solemn air. To anyone watching, they could have been a very good-looking family.
I clicked the shutter and thought to myself: if she can love Daniel wholeheartedly, I wouldn’t mind her being his stepmom.
Just then Daniel wriggled free from Rose and Mark, stepped out of the shot, and walked over to me.
Rose clearly still wanted a picture with Mark, so I was happy to oblige and took a few of just the two of them.
Hazel Bennett had been quietly staying behind me the whole time, careful and a little nervous, as if she feared I'd change my mind about letting her be friends with Daniel. I smiled and brought the two kids together. “Want a photo together?”
“Yes!”
The two little ones nodded happily.
After I photographed the children, Daniel came over and took my hand again. Only then did I realize he wanted a picture with me, so I handed the camera to Mark.
I crouched beside Daniel, and he leaned against me. A strange feeling came over me, and I could not help turning to look at him. At that same moment, he looked back at me. Nearby, I heard the shutter click.
Seeing you again… it felt so good.
Hazel joined our photo.
How wonderful—across different times and realities, the three of us stood together again, smiling at the camera.
After those pictures, Mark suggested a group photo of everyone. Rose suddenly said she did not photograph well and refused to join in. She also claimed not to know how to use the camera, then stood some distance away.
So Mark asked a passerby to take the picture. He handed over the camera, then dashed back to us.
Daniel and Hazel stood in the middle while Mark and I crouched on either side. After the helpful stranger took the shot, he studied the image seriously, thought for a moment, and then called out, “Let’s change poses and take one more!”
Mark smiled and agreed. The stranger called out his instructions: “Mom and Dad, pick up the children. Come closer together as a family!”
We’d come to the amusement park for Daniel’s birthday, but honestly, I was just as excited!
It’d been years since I’d been to one.
So when I learned that parents could enter the ball pit with their kids, I kicked my shoes off faster than Daniel and Hazel.
Mark teased me about using Daniel’s birthday as an excuse for a day of fun for myself.
As he was about to take off his shoes and join us, Rose caught his arm. She said she was thirsty and wanted to buy drinks for everyone. “Go ahead,” I said. “The three of us will be fine!”
Once Mark and Rose disappeared from sight, Hazel and Daniel lunged at me and the three of us dove into the huge ball pit.
We launched those light plastic balls at each other, and whoever got hit erupted into giggles. I don’t even know why it was so fun, but it was.
This park’s ball pit had an oversized inflatable castle and slides adults could use, too.
We played hide-and-seek in the castle and a slide-chase game. Whoever slid down and couldn’t swim aside quickly enough got caught and “lost.”
There were no penalties or prizes—just laughter.
Hazel was agile and always swam away quickly after the slide. I, as an adult, could stand up in the pit and had an easier time. Daniel, though, always got stuck under the mass of balls and flailed for a little while before freeing himself.
That made it easy for Hazel and me to tag him. Both kids let out those delighted little giggles I loved, and I laughed with them.
“Claire!”
Mark came back balancing four drinks, waving at us.
Breathless, the three of us waded to the edge of the ball pit. Daniel and Hazel took their drinks and gulped them down. Mark told them to slow down, then handed me a cup with a smile. “You’re covered in sweat.”
He offered me a handkerchief. I blinked, then thought: of course he would carry one. He looked after a small child.
I took the handkerchief and thanked him. “Where’s Rose?”
“Right behind. She’ll be here in a second.”
I nodded and began drinking too. “You should slow down as well,” he reminded me.
An attendant came over and greeted us. I wondered what they wanted until they explained with a smile, “Lots of children use this slide. Please move away from the bottom as soon as you come down, or another child might accidentally kick you.”
My face heated. I apologized profusely and promised to be careful.
Then the attendant turned to Mark. “Dad, make sure you keep an eye on all three of your little ones!”
Again?!
That was the second time someone had mistaken us for a family!
We’d been mistaken at the park entrance before—there were so many people, and we’d been in a hurry to get photos, so I hadn’t bothered to explain. Now I kept waving my hands. “No, no—”
“Of course. I’ll keep an eye on them,” Mark said pleasantly as the attendant left. Then he shrugged at me. “Be careful, little one.”
Before I could reply, Rose appeared behind him, scowling. “Let’s go somewhere else.” She strode off without looking back. Mark and I hurried to put the children’s shoes on and straighten their clothes, then followed.
Rose walked briskly ahead while I followed with a child by each hand. At last Hazel called out, “Mom, I’m tired. Can we rest for a bit?”
I told Mark he could go with Rose and I’d take the kids to the areas for younger children.
Rose immediately announced that she wanted to ride the roller coaster. The three of us watched without reacting as she pulled a conflicted-looking Mark away. Then I happily led the children to the sandpit.
This park’s sandpit had an orchard theme, with fake fruit trees and toy tools. They’d buried model fruits and seeds so kids could dig for “treasure” and place finds under matching trees. Uncover ten fruits and you could exchange them for a small prize.
After playing in the sand for a while, we began our treasure hunt. I could not help laughing at our first find: a little “ginseng fruit” shaped like a baby.
Hazel’s eyes widened. “Mom, you should eat this!”
“Uh? Why?” I asked, startled.
“I want you to live a hundred years!” She had recently watched an animated version of Journey to the West. Seeing Pigsy enjoy the ginseng fruit had made her long to try some herself.
“That’s fake,” Daniel reminded her.
“Oh.” Hazel looked disappointed, clutching the ginseng fruit. I comforted her, “I’ll try to live a long time…”
We dug up more items. The first set we completed was twenty peaches. We brought the twenty peaches to a peach tree but there was no staff nearby, so the three of us sat under the tree and rested while we waited.
“Mom, is this the Queen Mother’s peach?” Hazel asked, still thinking of the tale.
“Not sure.” I looked at the single oversized peach decoration on the tree and murmured, “Maybe it’s Momotaro’s peach.”
“Or a peach from the Peach Garden Oath,” Daniel joined in. “It was in the cartoon I watched yesterday.”
A spark flashed in my head: the Peach Garden Oath!
“Hazel, do you want a big brother?” I asked.
“Yes!” She nodded emphatically.
“Daniel, would you like a little sister?” I asked him.
He nodded seriously.
“Then let’s play Peach Garden Oath!” I suggested.
“This isn’t a peach garden!” Hazel corrected sternly.
“All right, you’re right. Then we’ll call it the Oath Under the Peach Tree.” I was too excited to bother thinking of a better name.
I grabbed their small hands and put on a solemn face. “Repeat after me.”
“Hazel Bennett and Daniel Lewis, though from different families, today pledge to be brother and sister, to help each other and care for each other.”
I made the words up as I went along and nearly added the familiar line: “Though we were not born on the same day of the same month and year, we ask…”
“Hazel Bennett and Daniel Lewis, though from different families, today pledge to be brother and sister, to help each other and care for each other.” The children repeated the words, their faces innocent and delighted.
“All right. I declare that from today on, you are brother and sister. You must get along with each other, okay?”
Hazel nodded vigorously. I thought, don’t blame me later—this is for your own good.
An attendant came over just then. We handed over the twenty plastic peaches, and the attendant fetched two peach-shaped cookies from the service desk, giving one to each child. “Be good friends,” they said with a smile.
“No!” Hazel protested. “We have to be a good brother and sister!”
“Yes! A good brother and sister!” Daniel echoed loudly. I was surprised; I had never seen him so enthusiastic about anything.
I was very pleased with myself. Just then, Mark texted to ask where we were. I replied, “Meet us at the restaurant.”
At the restaurant, Daniel and Hazel rushed up to Mark, brandishing their peach cookies and chattering about the Oath Under the Peach Tree. With all the noise around us, he could barely make out what they were saying. He smiled in puzzlement and told them they had done well.
Beside him, Rose looked more and more sullen as she listened.
After we found a table, I went up to the counter to order. Mark reminded Rose to watch the kids and came along.
“What were they saying? What oath?” he asked from behind me.
As the line moved forward, I explained what had happened. Mark chuckled. “So Daniel has a godmother now.”
I stared at him. He lifted his chin. “It’s our turn.”
When I returned with the trays, the two kids were chattering away excitedly, and Rose was scrolling on her phone as if they weren’t part of the table at all.
I sat across from Dr. Lewis. Hazel Bennett was beside me, and Daniel Lewis sat opposite her, with Rose Rowan to his right.
I knew Rose had come hoping for a date with Mark. But her constant scowl was beginning to irritate me. It was Daniel’s birthday, after all. If she had no intention of helping him celebrate, she should have stayed home.
“Excuse me for interrupting!”
A cheerful voice made us all turn. A young woman in the restaurant’s uniform stood beside our table. “We offer free family photographs for guests. Shall I take one of Mom, Dad, and the two little ones?”
“N-no—” I waved my hand to explain.
“What makes you think they’re the children’s parents?” Rose threw her knife and fork onto her plate with a clatter and glared at the young woman.
The young woman clearly had not expected an offer to take a photograph to cause trouble. She froze, stammering an apology.
Heads in the restaurant turned toward us.
“You, come out here.”
Dr. Lewis said it quietly. He pushed back his chair, gave Rose one cold look, and walked out of the bistro.
Rose followed, giving the young woman a contemptuous look. Perhaps I imagined it, but she seemed to direct some of that contempt at me too.
The young woman stood beside the table, close to tears and unsure whether to leave. I kept telling her it was all right and that I would explain to the manager. I thought that would be the end of it, but then a shout came from outside: “Are you his father? Do you have any obligation to raise him?”
I quickly looked at Daniel. He sat motionless, staring at his plate. I could not tell what he was thinking.
I asked the girl to watch the two kids for a second and stood up to stop Rose’s inexplicable outburst—at least to get her to take her drama somewhere else.
Just as I reached the door, an even sharper voice cut through the air: “You’re not his uncle at all!”
What was that supposed to mean?
Mark… not Daniel’s uncle? What did that mean?
I stopped in the doorway and turned to look at Daniel, confused. He hunched there small and still, not moving.
Hazel sneakily pushed a disliked piece of broccoli onto his plate, mumbling something under her breath.
People in the bistro kept glancing at the two kids. I changed my mind—better to get the kids out another way and let that pair argue by themselves. It wasn’t my business.
“What’s it to you?” Dr. Lewis’s voice was cold, low but crystal clear.
“Can’t you see how I feel about you?” Rose’s tone cracked with emotion.
“That’s your business. I told you before: we’re just friends.” Mark did not waver. “Let me say it again. Daniel is my nephew. Say one more word, and the only connection left between us will be that we went to the same school.”
“Are you doing this because of her?” Rose demanded, sounding half-angry, half-bewildered.
She’d spotted me standing by the door, and in the heat of her rant she looked straight at me. Dr. Lewis glanced at me for a second too.
“That’s my business, not yours.”
“She’s a mistress! She’s…” Rose sounded angry and bewildered.
“I told you it’s none of your business. Please don’t interfere in my life or Daniel’s again. Goodbye!” Mark’s brows drew together. Without letting Rose finish, he turned away, leaving her staring in disbelief.
When he reached my side he said softly, “Let’s go.”
I nodded and followed him back to the table. He scooped Daniel up, and I gave my number to the young woman who had offered to take our photo and told her to have the manager call me—I’d explain the misunderstanding. Then I picked up Hazel and followed Dr. Lewis out of the bistro.
Rose hurried after us, shouting, “I’ve been by your side for years! How long have you even known her?”
No matter how she yelled from behind, Dr. Lewis kept walking, holding Daniel tight and ignoring her.
I thought it was cold to be so harsh, but remembering how she’d treated Daniel wiped away any sympathy I’d felt.
We hailed a taxi. I set Hazel in the backseat and she clambered in with surprising agility. Dr. Lewis set Daniel in the back too, leaving him in my care, and sat in the front passenger seat.
He barely spoke except for a few replies to the driver. Daniel went back to that unsettling quiet that didn’t fit his age. I kept glancing at him; Hazel copied my look.
“Daniel?” I murmured.
He looked up at me.
“Happy birthday.” I said it and hugged him.
“Me too!” Hazel cried, hugging him from behind. “Happy birthday!” Our hugs gradually melted Daniel’s gloom, and he began to giggle.
A smile returned to Dr. Lewis’s face. He turned to Daniel. “Happy birthday, kiddo. There’ll be cake when we get home.”
The mood in the taxi brightened as the children excitedly guessed whether the cake would be yogurt or vanilla. Mark asked where we should have dinner. I took out my phone to look up restaurants, but the screen suddenly changed to an incoming call, and I accidentally tapped to answer.
“Hello. What’s up?”
“Are you and Hazel at home?” Ethan asked over the phone.
“No, we’re on our way back,” I answered.
“Don’t go back yet.”
“Why?”
“There might be paparazzi at your place. Lay low—go to a hotel for a couple of days.”
“Paparazzi? Looking for me?” I blinked. “How would they know where I live?”
“I don’t know yet,” Ethan said. “Don’t be afraid. I’ll send someone to pick you up in the next couple of days.”
I thought to myself that I was not afraid. I had not caused Isabelle Summers’ death; what could anyone use against me? I did not press him further. I said I would be careful and hung up.
The taxi stopped at the entrance to our apartment complex, and all four of us got out. Mark asked what was wrong. Before I could answer, my phone rang again. It was Martha.
“Claire, where are you?”
“What’s wrong? We’ve just reached the entrance.” I heard Martha lower her voice, sounding urgent. “Don’t come back yet. Two reporters are outside our door. They knocked and asked for you. I didn’t say this was our apartment, and I didn’t open the door, but they still haven’t left.”
My blood boiled—those paparazzi had no shame, camping out at someone’s home like that. It was such an invasion.
“Don’t worry, we’re coming back. I’m calling the police right now to get them to leave.” I hadn’t finished speaking when two men walked past us—one holding a small video camera.
One of them looked around at the sound of my voice. He stopped, caught his companion’s arm, and tipped his chin toward me. The other man studied me, then approached. I quickly moved Hazel behind me. “Are you Ms. Claire Sutton?” he asked, peering past me with an unpleasant look.
I was about to ask who he thought he was when Dr. Lewis stepped forward and shoved the man aside. “Sorry, you’ve got the wrong person. This is my wife,” he said.
I caught on at once and snapped, “Who do you think you are? What’s wrong with you?”
The reporter hesitated, then motioned to his cameraman to film Hazel. Dr. Lewis hunched, scooped Hazel up and buried her face in his shoulder. He warned them coldly, “Don’t film. What are you doing? Keep filming and I’ll smash that camera.”
The cameraman looked at the other guy, who shook his head unsurely, and the camera turned away.
I held out my hand to Daniel. “Come on, son. Let’s go.”
Daniel took my hand obediently. While the two men hesitated, we slipped past them. As we walked away, I deliberately muttered loud enough for them to hear, “What is wrong with people these days?”
Dr. Lewis still held Hazel, angling her away so they couldn’t get a shot.
“Relax, sweetheart. Don’t be mad—it's not worth it,” he said lightly.
We headed to Dr. Lewis’s place. No one followed, and we let out a collective breath.
Once we were inside and he put Hazel down, he laughed. “You react fast, you know that.”
“You flatter me. Not as fast as you.” I laughed. The children, who had been a little frightened, began to giggle too.
Only then did I think to praise them. “You two were wonderful out there too!”
Hazel beamed at the praise. “Daniel told me at the amusement park that when you can’t solve a problem, you shouldn’t say anything.”
I felt a tug in my chest—what kind of experience made a three-year-old decide that?
Dr. Lewis cleared his throat. “Daniel’s right. Hazel, you were smart too. Later everyone gets a big slice of cake.”
Hazel cheered and dragged Daniel off to play with the toys.
“I’m going out to check on things and pick up the cake,” Dr. Lewis said, then left.
I went into the living room but sat on the sofa instead of joining the children. I messaged Martha to explain where we were. I told her to stay in if possible and, if she had to go out, not to say anything to reporters.
I leaned back, exhausted, thoughts racing.
Why had reporters suddenly come to my door? The apartment I lived in now did not belong to Ethan, so how had they found me so easily? And what could they do even if they found me? Keep smearing him online? Were there not enough hostile posts already?
I needed to get the custody agreement back from Ethan as soon as possible and make a clean break. If his troubles kept disrupting our lives, we could move back to my hometown, the city where I had grown up.
But what about Daniel?
Sunlight poured through the window, warm across Hazel Bennett and Daniel Lewis as they played intently. If we left now, who would keep Daniel company?
Jessa, of course!
A voice rang in my head. I froze for a moment, a flicker of reluctance rising in me. I shook my head hard, forcing the voice away.
What did Rose mean by that line?
Was Mark not Daniel’s uncle?
Daniel’s reaction earlier made it clear he knew something. But I could not bear to question him about it. I decided to ask Mark when I had the chance.
Ugh, what a mess.
Putting that aside, Lily Carter’s confession from a few days ago came rushing back.
She said she had told me everything to help Ethan, to let him and me be together. But I did not want her to do that for us!
I don’t love Ethan like she does.
What did she think she was doing, trying to bring us together?
Surely she would not be foolish enough to reveal publicly that she was the one who had harmed Isabelle?
I meant to call her, but only then realized I didn’t have her number. I thought of Ink & Milk and hurried to open a browser to find her account and leave a message.
Even after leaving the message, I still felt uneasy. I opened the browser again and began typing “Bennett” into the search bar.
A trending phrase appeared: “E. Bennett’s karma has arrived. Justice is late, but it comes!”
My eyelid twitched. I opened the post: “An inside tip, absolutely true!
“E. Bennett’s son with his mistress is in the hospital. Apparently he is seriously ill!
“Karma never misses…”
When Mark got home, Daniel and Hazel were already asleep from playing so hard.
He put his things down and spoke quietly. “I walked around the apartment complex. There are quite a few people with cameras out there. You should probably stay indoors for now.”
I nodded.
After a moment of silence, he looked at me thoughtfully. "Do you know why they’re after you?"
"Sort of."
I told him about the anonymous post claiming that Ethan’s son with his mistress was gravely ill. The poster had joked, “Who knows whether this is heaven punishing E. Bennett or a stunt by his mistresses, fighting to take his wife’s place?”
That one sentence had caused an uproar in the comments. If I was right, the reporters wanted to turn it into an even bigger story to attract attention.
“But I don’t know how much of it is true. I don’t have Lily’s phone number, and I can’t reach Ethan anymore.” I checked my phone again for new messages.
“Part of it is true,” Mark said unexpectedly. At my look of disbelief, he explained, “My hospital colleagues warned everyone in our group chat to avoid the south entrance because reporters have gathered there. I asked some people in my department. Noah has been admitted with acute myocarditis.”
"Acute myocarditis?"
Just hearing the name chilled me. "Is it serious? What’s the child’s condition?"
“It doesn’t look good. They’ve put him on ECMO.”
"What?"
“It’s a form of extracorporeal life support.”
Hearing the news from Mark hit me much harder than reading the post on my phone. I stood there, stunned, unable to take it in.
“Don’t worry. The doctors in the ICU are watching Noah closely. If anything happens, they will…”
"How could this happen?" I muttered. "So suddenly…"
"Mom."
Hazel’s voice came, small and clear. "Mom!"
Mark and I jumped. I hurried to her.
Hazel rubbed her sleepy face. Her voice sounded small and weak. “Mom, when I woke up, I forgot we were at Daniel’s house.”
Daniel sat up from the couch, still drowsy.
Mark took the opportunity to bring out the cake. The children instantly came to life, scrambling onto the chairs and eagerly watching him cut it. Hazel sang “Happy Birthday” at the top of her voice. To my surprise, she could not carry a tune! No wonder she had scowled whenever anyone suggested going out to sing in my previous life.
"What are you laughing at?" Hazel asked.
"Nothing." I wiped frosting from her cheek, not telling her I’d discovered her secret. "You sound great."
Hazel swayed her head proudly and sang with even more enthusiasm. Mark raised his eyebrows, looking torn between laughter and exasperation, but let her continue. Daniel calmly ate his cake, apparently untouched by the noise.
“You’ll probably be staying here tonight,” Mark told us.
"Why?" Hazel interrupted, curious.
I cleared my throat. Mark winked at me: “Because Daniel’s birthday doesn’t finish until midnight.”
That evening, Mark gave up his bedroom for Hazel and me. I was telling her a bedtime story when someone knocked. I opened the door to find Daniel there, with Mark standing behind him.
"Can I listen to the story?" Daniel asked politely.
“I offered to tell him one, but he wouldn’t listen,” Mark explained from behind him.
I let Daniel in; Mark signaled he’d come get him later and went to the living room.
The children settled obediently into bed, and I continued the story. Hazel was full of questions, interrupting whenever she did not understand something. Beside her, Daniel barely said a word. He just watched my face with soft, trusting eyes. He was adorable.
Within half an hour they were both asleep. I reached for my phone to text Mark, but a distinct little noise came from the living room. I opened the door.
Mark stood by the dining table, carefully holding a cup. “Did I wake you?”
I shook my head. "They’re asleep."
“Would you like some tea?” he asked.
We sat on opposite sides of the table, quietly sipping black tea.
After what Rose had said that day, even someone as oblivious as I was had to realize that Mark had feelings for Claire Sutton. Unfortunately, I was not Claire.
How do I make him give up that idea?
I stole a glance at him over the rim of my cup, only to find him looking up at me too. Flustered, I choked on my tea. “Cough, cough!”
I tried to suppress my coughing so I would not wake the children. Mark came over. Flustered, I stood up too and moved a little away from him. Noticing that I was avoiding him, he hesitated, then picked up my cup and handed it to me. I took a sip between coughs.
Once the cough settled, the air at the table felt awkward. I said quickly, "I’ll go get Daniel."
Back in the bedroom, I smiled at Daniel’s sleeping face. “How can a child be so adorable?” I murmured, and kissed his forehead lightly.
I carefully lifted Daniel from the bed and carried him out. Mark was already waiting. Looking embarrassed, he moved closer, awkwardly adjusting his arms before taking the child. Neither of us spoke.
Just as Daniel left my arms, he made a small sound and caught the neckline of my sweater in one little hand.
Before either of us could react, his little tug pulled my round neckline out of shape.
Mark instinctively stepped back with Daniel in his arms. For one mortifying moment, part of my chest was exposed.
I froze. Mark stared at me for an instant, then darted back toward me. As he moved closer, my neckline fell back into place. I wished I could disappear.
I hurried to loosen Daniel’s grip. Mark was red-faced and breathing quickly. He turned his gaze away in embarrassment.
My palms were sweating by the time I freed Daniel’s fingers. Mark hurried into Daniel’s room as though fleeing.
I was left standing there, utterly flustered.
Back on the bed my heart hammered. I covered my face and sighed, telling myself this was Claire Sutton’s body, not mine.
My phone buzzed. A message from Mark: “Don’t worry.”
I laughed at the absurdity. Worry about what?
"I’m a doctor. I see the human body differently."
Please, stop explaining!
Not knowing how to answer, I tossed the phone aside. Sleep crept in. I glanced at Hazel—she slept sweetly—and let my eyes close.
Later, a faint sound pulled me awake. I fumbled for my phone. The screen was on; a notification.
I opened the notification and logged into the site. Ink & Milk had replied: “I’m at the hospital. I’m so scared.”
I sat up and typed fast: "Don’t be scared. How is Noah?"
She answered quickly this time: "Still in ICU. He hasn’t woken up. The doctors said they need to get some machine balanced with his heart. I don’t understand. They’re monitoring him."
"Are you at the hospital alone?" I asked.
"Yes. Just me."
That was her reply.
"Send me your number."
Once she gave it, I left the bedroom and called her.
Lily answered in tears. I did not ask why she had not called Ethan or anyone else to be with her. I simply offered a few quiet words of comfort, though I doubted she took much of it in.
Hearing her fall apart, I felt sorry for her. “Try to steady yourself. If you get sick too, what will Noah do?”
She murmured in agreement.
"I’ll come to the hospital and stay with you a bit. Have you eaten?"
As soon as I hung up, the living room light came on. Mark had come out without my noticing.
"Sorry if I woke you," I said.
"No—no, I wasn’t asleep," he stammered. Then, as if he’d remembered something, he fell silent.
“Ahem… Actually, I need to go to the hospital. Could you look after Hazel for me?”
"To the hospital?"
I told Dr. Lewis about Lily Carter. He didn't immediately agree; instead he insisted on coming with me.
"What about those two?" I asked.
By the time Martha arrived at Dr. Lewis's place, I was already wearing his jacket and he’d plopped his baseball cap on my head.
After a few quick instructions to Martha, Dr. Lewis and I hurried out. We rode in silence and were soon at the hospital.
To prevent reporters from causing a scene, Lily had been placed in a temporarily vacant ward.
I had braced myself, but seeing Lily still shocked me.
She wore plain clothes, and at some point she had straightened her hair. The familiar waves were gone. Without her usual heavy makeup, her face looked much plainer, and tears streaked her cheeks. She looked utterly disheveled.
At the sight of me, she seemed to relax, then looked embarrassed, perhaps remembering the awkward relationship between us. I ignored that and offered a few words of comfort.
Dr. Lewis explained what he knew in detail, and she calmed a bit.
Seeing that Lily wanted to speak to me, Mark tactfully excused himself to ask about Noah. The moment he left, she blurted, “You have to believe me. I am not using my child to get Ethan’s attention, whatever they say. Noah really is ill.”
I nodded to show I hadn't jumped to conclusions.
With tears in her eyes, she looked more vulnerable, and somehow more beautiful, than before.
I handed her a packet of tissues. She thanked me, then said slowly, “I was going to turn myself in today, but Noah said he felt awful. On the way here, I thought he just had an ordinary cold. Then the doctor told me it was myocarditis…”
Hearing that, I asked directly, "You mean they only confirmed myocarditis after he got to the hospital?"
She nodded.
"Then how did the media find out so fast that Noah had a serious illness?"
Lily blinked at my question. She'd been so anxious about Noah she hadn’t thought about such things.
"Did you run into anyone you know after you got here?" I asked.
"I don't know, I…" Lily fumbled, panicking as she tried to remember. "I didn't notice."
"Don't rush—think it through," I soothed.
She closed her eyes helplessly. “I should have known. Once Isabelle died, people were bound to start watching Ethan. The house I live in is in his name. I went out openly with Noah and drew attention to us. Perhaps someone was already watching us then, hoping to dig up a scandal about Ethan.”
Since she had brought up Ethan, I asked, “Have you told him that Noah is ill?”
“No, but he already knows.” Lily gave a bitter smile. “This morning I asked him to send someone to take Noah to his place. Just as they arrived, Noah began to feel unwell, so we came to the hospital instead. When I called Ethan this evening, his phone was switched off.”
We fell silent. I had known the answer was unlikely to be that simple, but I had not been able to stop myself from asking.
As Lily said, after Isabelle Summers’ death, journalists would swarm anything related to Ethan. Seeing all the vicious posts online, I felt the people watching Ethan weren’t only reporters.
Perhaps Ethan had turned off his phone because he could no longer stand the reporters’ harassment. Lily looked at me and managed a tired smile. “Thank you. Thank you for taking the risk of coming here.”
I patted her shoulder but said nothing.
Mark returned and told us that a senior physician was personally overseeing Noah’s care. His condition was fairly stable for now, but they still had to be vigilant.
At that, Lily gripped my arm instinctively, harder than I expected. I frowned.
After explaining the situation to Lily, Mark glanced down at my arm and lowered his eyes. “You’re Noah’s mother. You need to stay calm. You mustn’t make yourself ill when he needs you most.”
Lily nodded and held tighter.
As though he had noticed something, Mark suddenly stepped between us. Lily had to release my arm, and I let out a quiet breath of relief.
He went to the window, leaned forward, and pointed toward a corner of the building. “There’s an entrance over there that’s less conspicuous. Not many people use it. If you need to go out without drawing attention, use that one.”
He explained the route: leave the ward and turn right, walk past the two elevators, then turn right again at the end of the corridor. Behind a fire door was a separate elevator.
The hospital window was narrow; Lily leaned forward to see and almost brushed against him. He quickly stepped back to give her space.
While Lily peered into the darkness, trying to make out the entrance, Mark looked at me. “There’s nothing more we can do here. Shall we go home?”
Lily drew back from the window. Too embarrassed to ask me outright to stay, she gave me a pleading look. I sighed. “I’ll stay with her tonight. You should go home and rest. I’ll be back first thing in the morning.”
Lily visibly relaxed. Dr. Lewis nodded without argument and left.
It was just Lily and me in the ward. She whispered her thanks, and I waved it off. Frankly, I was meddling—what did this have to do with me? I probably should keep my distance to avoid getting burned.
But looking at Lily, I could not bear to leave. I remembered how anxious I had been when I brought Hazel to the hospital. If I could worry so much about a daughter who had suddenly appeared in my life, how much worse must Lily feel about her own son?
Maybe to ease the tension or to show gratitude, Lily almost enthusiastically waved at the two beds in the room. "You choose first!"
I pointed at one at random. It was just for the night.
"Knock knock!"
The knock in the quiet room made Lily flinch; she stared at me. Had the reporters found this place?
“Claire, are you asleep?” It was Mark’s voice.
I breathed easier and opened the door.
He stood in the doorway carrying a bulging plastic bag in his left hand and a thermos in his right. Without waiting for questions, he set the things down. "I grabbed some food. Eat if you're hungry. This is hot water; there are disposable cups in the bag."
I hadn't expected him to do all that when he left. Touched, I whispered thanks.
He did not respond to my thanks. Instead, he took my hand, pulled a packet from his coat pocket, and placed it in my palm. “Wear this as well when you go home,” he said softly. “If any creepy strangers bother you, call me.”
He smiled, then left without waiting for my reply.
I stood in the doorway for a moment, dazed. Then I gathered up everything and carried it inside.
"Did Dr. Lewis actually bring food?" Lily asked, curious.
"And this." I set the mask on the table.
After a grueling day, Lily was exhausted. She drank some water and soon fell asleep.
The ward grew quiet. In the dark, I could hear Lily's occasional anxious breaths. Outside, distant noises rose and fell.
Lying in the hospital bed, listening to sounds near and far, I felt as though I were back in those last days of my previous life, barely clinging on. Back then, I had listened to the same intermittent noises outside as day after day slipped past in a haze of sleep…
“Did you hear that Hazel was born out of wedlock?”
A lanky girl's excited voice cut through the darkness.
(Where am I? That girl looks familiar…)
“What? Where did you hear such wonderful news? Come on, tell us!”
A short-haired girl demanded.
(I turn my head—who is that? I think I know her. This looks like a college dorm?!)
“I don’t know who started it, but people say Hazel is Ethan Bennett’s illegitimate daughter and her mother is his mistress!”
"That's huge!"
"There's more!"
"What what? Tell us!"
"Hey, don't spread rumors if you don't know!"
Another girl poked her head out to scold the gossipers.
I turned and froze—there I was.
Is this… a dream?
"Why are you so upset? It's not even about you," the tall girl muttered.
"Come on, don't bicker. What's the bigger scoop? Spill! We're listening!"
The short-haired girl urged.
I watched in disbelief as my younger self drew back into bed. She seemed about to say something, but in the end she kept quiet.
Back then, I barely knew Daniel Lewis or Hazel.
“They say Ethan’s current wife used her son to secure her place. His first wife died years ago. Hazel’s mother only gave him a daughter, so she never got to take the throne! Ha!”
“Ha! A son is a mother’s ticket to the top!”
The short-haired girl laughed.
“There’s more!” The tall girl wiped away tears of laughter. “Apparently Hazel’s mother couldn’t win Ethan’s favor, so she went off with another man. She cheated on him!”
"Oh my god, that's more dramatic than a TV show!"
“How does that saying go?” The tall girl put on a knowing expression. “Wreck someone else’s home, and someone will wreck yours!”
“Someone will wreck yours! Ha! You’re brilliant!” the short-haired girl said, laughing.
All this at Hazel’s expense.
My younger self could stand it no longer. She sat up, determined to stop their mockery. Feeling around on the bed, she found a book and struck it against the bed frame. Thump, thump, thump, thump!
I shot up as well. Lily Carter, on the other bed, scrambled up in alarm. The light from outside showed her face half terrified, half dazed. We both turned toward the door making the thumping noise.
“Lily?”
A woman’s voice called, “The child’s awake. Go see.”
At that, Lily tumbled out of bed and bolted from the room. I followed close behind.
Seeing Noah awake, Lily laughed and cried as she stroked his head and cheeks. Once she had soothed him back to sleep, I accompanied her to the consultation room to hear the doctor’s instructions.
Throughout it all, my head buzzed. That dream had felt so real.
No.
To be precise, it wasn’t a dream. It was a piece of my buried past.
Those two girls—my college roommates.
I had heard it all that day.
I had heard the “story” about Hazel and Claire, but dismissed it as other people’s gossip. I had never imagined how deeply it would affect my own life.
Noah’s condition stabilized. Lily breathed easier. I said goodbye and told her I had to go home to take care of Hazel.
Amid Lily’s repeated thanks, I left the hospital in a fog.
By the time I reached Mark’s apartment, it was barely six in the morning. Mark himself opened the door.
When he saw me he hurriedly pulled me inside and shut the door.
I deliberately pulled my hand away, removed the baseball cap he had lent me, and hung it on the rack behind the door.
Seeing my drawn expression, he asked, worried, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
He reached for my forehead; I stepped back and dodged his hand.
His palm hovered in the air. “What’s the matter with you?”
I decided to ignore him.
There’s still time.
If Claire Sutton was the cause of Mark’s heartbreak in my previous life, I could still stop it from happening.
Numbly, I took off the jacket he had lent me and hung it on the rack without a word. Then I turned toward the main bedroom. I was going to take Hazel away.
“Don’t leave.”
Mark’s voice was low, a tremor threaded through it.
I tried to pull away from his hand and he gripped me tighter.
Before I could force him to let go, the doorbell rang.
We both froze. Had someone been tailing me?
He released my hand and peered through the peephole, then visibly relaxed and opened the door.
Standing there was Rose Rowan.
Rose’s face brightened the moment she saw Mark, but the smile froze halfway and turned cool when her gaze slid past him to me.
“You… what are you doing here?” she stammered, suspicion and resentment thick in her voice.
“Because of circumstances beyond my control…” I said, choosing my words carefully.
“Shameless!” Rose cut me off, furious. “You really have no—”
“I invited her here,” Mark interrupted. “Is there something you need?”
At Mark’s defense of me, Rose’s eyes reddened. She stared at him, and a moment later tears spilled down her face.
“Ms. Rowan, I’m sorry this has caused a misunderstanding. Dr. Lewis only invited us here to help Hazel and me. Please don’t read anything else into it.”
“A misunderstanding? What misunderstanding? You seduced someone else’s husband, and that still wasn’t enough, so now you come here…” Rose demanded.
“Ms. Rowan, I’ll say it again. You’re wrong. In my heart… there is only my husband.”
I met Rose’s eyes, putting heavy emphasis on the words “my husband.” From the corner of my eye, I saw Mark’s hand suddenly close into a fist.
“I won’t disturb you. I’ll take Hazel out now.”
I turned to leave, but Mark spoke behind me. “I didn’t help you just to be kind.”
Then, unexpectedly: “I like you.”
His sudden confession felt like cold water poured over my head. My hands and feet turned icy. I wanted to walk away, but my legs would not move.
“You said I was only trying to help you. I wasn’t. I was hoping for something for myself…”
“Mark!” Rose choked.
“Whatever the reason,” I said, struggling to control my emotions and making my voice almost flippant, “I’m still grateful for Dr. Lewis’s help. But since he puts it that way, I suppose he has helped plenty of his patients’ mothers. I’m sorry. I’m not interested in a man who plays around.”
“That’s not true.” Mark’s eyes reddened at the corners. His dark irises fixed on me and I looked away.
“Ms. Rowan,” I said, turning to Rose, “a woman should not humiliate herself over a man.”
“What gives you the right to judge me?” Rose’s lips tightened; anger flared in her eyes. “You, the other woman?”
As if on cue, my phone rang. I glanced and answered, switching to a sugary, coy voice: “Ethan? Why are you calling now?”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “What… what’s wrong?” Ethan asked hesitantly.
I ignored his surprise and kept up the act. “Hold on, darling~” I covered the mic and gave the two of them a sweet smile. “Sorry, my husband needs me. I’ll go back to the room. You two keep talking.”
I forced myself to walk calmly into the main bedroom. Hazel was still asleep, her arms sticking out from under the blanket, little fists raised above her head. I tiptoed to the window, uncovered the microphone, and whispered, “Hello? What is it? Go ahead.”
“Hmm?” he murmured, then quickly resumed his normal tone. “Where are you now?”
“I’m… at Dr. Lewis’s place.”
A beat of silence.
“In thirty minutes, bring Hazel out through the back gate of the apartment complex. Both of you should cover up well and try not to be seen. I’ll be in a black Buick, license plate ending in 185. You’ll see me as soon as you come out.”
“What’s the plan?” I wasn’t sure whether to follow him.
“You and Hazel should lie low for a couple of days. I’ve arranged somewhere for you to stay. I’ll take you there.”
I thought for a moment and agreed.
When I walked out, Rose and Mark were still locked in their standoff at the entryway. I moved forward and said with a smile, “My husband’s picking Hazel and me up. I won’t keep you.”
Rose ignored me. Her eyes were red as she asked Mark, “Is she really the person you want?”
Mark’s face remained expressionless. “I’m not choosing between people.”
I kept smiling, pretending none of this concerned me, and tried to play it off: “I won’t be a third wheel. I’ll—”
“If there’s nothing else, you can go.” Mark cut me off, addressing Rose coolly.
“All right…” A single tear fell from Rose’s eye. A bitter smile twisted her mouth. “Fine. Fine…”
Her gaze shifted from Mark to me, full of despair and resentment. Her voice sounded distant, yet heavy.
“You win.”
She turned on her heel and left without another word.
Mark closed the door and turned to find me standing motionless. He gave me a questioning look. “What’s wrong?”
You win… you win… you win…
Those hate-filled words pierced decades of memory like an arrow, pinning me in pain and endless regret: the bloodstained wedding, that desperate leap, the young woman driven beyond reason by despair… Then I heard, “Mom.”
A soft, sweet voice ripped me out of the past. I turned quickly, snatched back to the present.
Little Hazel rubbed her eyes and came toward me. “Mama, hug.”
She held up her hands, yawning as she waddled over. I crouched and picked her up automatically.
“You woke up without waking me,” she complained, sounding a little hurt.
“Good girl. I’ll dress you now, then we’ll go find Daddy, okay?”
“Okay!” The prospect of seeing her father made Hazel a little more alert. Then she frowned, remembering something. “But Daniel and I promised to play together today.”
Seeing her dilemma, Mark said gently, “I’ll explain to Daniel when he wakes up. You can play together next time, all right?”
Hazel nodded.
After I dressed her, I carried Hazel back to the entryway. Mark was still there, leaning against the wall, looking exhausted.
When he saw us he stood up straight and handed me three masks, saying flatly, “I’ll walk you to the gate.”
“No need,” I blurted out.
He stopped with his hand on the door. Seeing how forlorn he looked from behind, I relented enough to explain, “Mr. Bennett is waiting at the gate. We’ll leave as soon as he picks us up. You don’t need to worry.”
He still had his back to us. My voice sounded weak. “Daniel will wake up soon. He’ll be upset if there’s no one at home. Please stay with him.”
He swayed slightly, then stepped aside.
I opened the door and hurried out, then hesitated and turned back.
“Dr. Lewis.”
He looked up.
“Daniel really needs you. Please stay by his side, always.”
“You and Daniel both deserve happiness.”
“Please give him a happy, healthy, normal home. I—”
“I understand.” A fleeting, unreadable expression flickered across his face. “Now go.”
“Wait.” He went to the coat rack, came back, and placed his baseball cap on my head. “Be careful.”
I hurried through the apartment complex with Hazel in my arms, avoiding early-morning exercisers, commuters, and two suspicious people carrying cameras. At last I reached the back gate and spotted a black Buick.
I was about to check the last three digits of the license plate when the driver’s window slid halfway down. Ethan waved, then raised it again.
When Hazel and I climbed in, she shrieked with excitement, "Daddy! Are we going out today?"
Ethan leaned over and ruffled her hair with one hand. "Daddy's taking you and Mommy somewhere nice."
He took his hand off Hazel's head and reached to touch my hand. I awkwardly pulled away.
He lifted an eyebrow but said nothing, settled in, and started the car.
The ride was quiet. Every so often Ethan glanced at me through the rearview mirror. I turned my face to the side, irritated at myself for not having sent Mark after Rose earlier—her words kept gnawing at me.
After turning it over in my mind, I sent Mark a message. A long time passed before he replied with a single word: “Okay.”
Less than an hour later the car pulled into a vast underground parking garage.
"We're here."
Something about the whole trip felt off. Ethan had said we'd be hiding for a couple days, but he'd brought us to one of the city's most luxurious hotels. What was his angle?
The most dangerous place is the safest?
Before I could ask, Ethan had already gotten out and scooped Hazel into his arms. I followed.
He carried Hazel into the elevator, pressed the button for the first floor, and I trailed in silently. When the elevator dinged, I remembered the third mask Mark had given me and fished it out of my pocket.
I tapped Ethan with the mask. He glanced down and gave a small smile. "No need."
I didn’t press it and put the mask away again, following him out of the elevator.
The hotel lobby on the main floor was busy. The moment we appeared, some heads turned.
"Mr. Bennett."
A server greeted him while passing by.
"Well, Mr. Bennett, long time no see," said a potbellied, designer-clad middle-aged man from a distance.
"Isn't that Mr. Bennett?" another balding man in a suit asked as he came forward to shake Ethan's hand. The woman hanging on his arm batted her eyelashes at Ethan, all flirtatious charm.
More people drifted over to greet Ethan. I couldn't understand what he was trying to pull—parading like this would only draw attention.
Every person who came up to him glanced at Hazel and me—some openly, some furtively—but no one asked who we were.
Ethan, oddly, didn't seem in a hurry to leave. He chatted easily with the crowd as if enjoying the attention.
I hissed to him to hurry and get a room, but he only smirked, "In such a rush?"
His suggestive question annoyed me. Apparently I was doing all the worrying for him. Fine. I would leave it to fate.
“Ethan, I hope you’ve been well.” A man in a white linen shirt appeared from somewhere in the lobby.
Ethan handed Hazel to me and shook the man’s hand. “Zach. It’s been a long time.”
I studied Zach. He and Ethan seemed to go back a long way, yet they exchanged only a few pleasantries and a casual “We should get together sometime” before parting.
"Who was that?" I asked.
“Zach Newman. An old friend.” Ethan looked at me. “Why do you ask?”
“There’s something odd about him,” I said. “Hmm?” Ethan asked. “Of all those people, he was the only one who didn’t look at Hazel and me at all,” I explained.
Ethan did not answer. At last he led me to the front desk. Several guests were already there, but a receptionist spotted him and hurried over.
"Mr. Bennett, your room is ready." She pushed a key card across the counter.
"Still room 1820?" Ethan asked.
"Yes, still 1820."
I rolled my eyes. Why not use a megaphone and announce the room number a few more times?
We followed Ethan into the elevator and went up to the eighteenth floor. On the way, Hazel whispered in my ear, “Mom, what is there to do for fun in a hotel?”
How would I know what your father is up to?
The corridor was quiet and long. Hazel counted the doors softly as we walked: "1806, 1808, 1810…1820!"
As soon as she said it, we heard a door being unlocked behind us. Before I could turn, a large hand caught my shoulder and pulled Hazel and me into the room opposite 1820.
The door slammed shut behind us.
Before I could work out what was happening, Hazel was lifted out of my arms.
I steadied myself and saw Ethan carrying Hazel into the suite.
"Daddy, this room is so big! It's beautiful!"
"You like it?"
"I like it!"
The suite was luxurious and spacious, lavishly decorated: a wet bar, an office area, a sitting room. One corner of the living area was piled high with toys; the coffee table groaned under mountains of snacks.
Ethan set Hazel down in front of the table. She stared in disbelief, eyes wide, then glanced from the snacks to me. Whispering, she asked, "Is this all for me?"
I nodded toward Ethan with my chin.
She ducked her head and stole shy looks at him, then poked her temple like she was reminding herself of something. After a beat, she puffed out her cheeks, grabbed a bag of pink cotton candy, and hopped over to her dad. "Daddy, do you like cotton candy?"
Ethan seemed amused and a touch surprised by her reaction. "Daddy doesn’t like sweets."
"But… this cotton candy is so sweet. What should I do?"
Little Hazel frowned and sighed dramatically, genuinely agonizing over the cotton candy's fate.
"Throw it out, I guess," Ethan said.
"Throw it to Hazel?" she proposed.
Ethan couldn't help laughing. "All these toys and snacks are for you. Daddy didn't know what you like, so he had a bit of everything bought. Pick whatever you want, okay?"
“I like everything Daddy buys!”
"Good. Go play with the toys for a while. Daddy and Mommy need to talk."
Hazel hugged the cotton candy and hopped into the toy pile. Ethan finally looked at me. "Did that scare you these past few days?"
“Not really,” I answered coolly. “What are you planning?”
“You and Hazel can stay here until things settle down in a few days. Let her kindergarten know she’ll be away. You’ll have to put up with staying here for now. Whatever happens, don’t leave the room.”
“Do you know about Noah being sick?” I asked.
“I know. I’ve spoken to the hospital director. He’s not well enough to be transferred right now. Once he improves, I’ll make the arrangements.”
He glanced at me suddenly. "Why the sudden concern—"
He caught himself and fell silent, as if his last words had rung wrong.
"I've seen some of the posts online. What's the plan? Doesn't your company have a PR team?"
Ethan seemed touched by my question, warmth showing in his usually cool eyes. “The PR department has been working on a response. But their statements don’t address the real problem. They could even make things worse. Besides, those posts… Whatever the case, it’s best to keep quiet publicly for now. I’ve asked them to find out where the hostile posts started, but they have nothing yet.”
His hesitation made me speak plainly. “Lily told me about what happened.”
When I mentioned Lily Carter, Ethan got nervous and stepped forward to grab my hand. "What did she say?"
"She said she swapped the pesticide bottle," I told him, and wrenched my hand free. "She wanted to turn herself in—on the day Noah fell ill."
“What?” The news that Lily had planned to turn herself in startled him, and he hurriedly took out his phone.
“I’ve already told her not to act impulsively. Her child is still ill, and it wouldn’t help with this situation right now.”
He stopped dialing, crestfallen.
I did not tell him that Lily wanted to bring the two of us together. My position was awkward enough. I did not want to stir up trouble or give him pointless hopes.
We lapsed into silence and both looked toward Hazel. She was sitting in front of two stuffed animals, holding a piece of cotton candy up to one and asking if it tasted good.
After a long beat, Ethan exhaled. "I have to go back to the office. Things are busy. If you need anything, call me and I'll arrange it."
I looked around the suite and thought for a moment. “I’ll need some drawing supplies. Paper, pens, things like that.”
"Send me a list on my phone."
He turned to leave. I followed to close the door. At the doorway, Ethan suddenly turned and studied me. "I don't know, maybe it's been too long since we've been together. You seem… different."
His words surprised me, but I kept my face placid. "People change."
He seemed about to embrace me. I stepped back, keeping more than a meter between us and doing my best to radiate a clear “Stay away from me.”
He sighed, opened the door, and left.
"Mommy." Hazel had somehow come up behind me. "Daddy left."
She looked at me calmly. I was puzzled; Ethan hadn't said goodbye to her, and she didn't seem to care. She was simply stating a fact—Daddy left.
Perhaps, in my previous life, a father had meant little more to her than the sight of someone walking away.
I took her hand and led her back to the sitting room. Seeing me silent and lost in thought, she found a packet of beef jerky in the pile of snacks and held it out to me. “Mom, eat this. It’s salty!”
After Ethan left, I called Hazel's preschool and arranged for an absence. Hotel staff brought the supplies I needed. With nothing else to do, I set up my drawing tools in the office area, spread drawing paper on the desk, and started working from memory. Hazel obediently grabbed a box of crayons and lay on the carpet to draw.
The suite was quiet except for the rustle of pencil on paper and the occasional flip of a page.
I strained my ears, afraid I'd miss some sound from outside the door.
I kept glancing at my phone. It was the only thing connecting me to the outside world, lying quietly on the table. I didn’t know whether I wanted it to ring or to stay silent.
After lunch I coaxed Hazel to sleep, then sat in the living room replaying the day’s events.
When did Dr. Lewis start liking Claire Sutton?
Even Claire’s situation had not put him off. Apparently he really was all about looks.
After the scene I had made that morning, surely he had given up on Claire?
Could this count as the heartbreak I remembered?
In my last life, Dr. Lewis left after Daniel got into college. Now Daniel’s only three. He can’t just abandon him like that, can he?
Daniel… in this life I’ll make sure he grows up happy.
I don’t know how long I sat there thinking before I dozed off on the couch. I was startled awake by the click of a keycard at the door.
I looked toward the door. It had not moved. I let out a breath of relief.
Just as I was about to close my eyes and rest again, I realized the sound came from across the hall.
I sprang from the sofa and hurried to the inside of our door. Too late. Through the peephole, I caught only the opposite door closing.
I pulled out my phone and called Ethan Bennett. He picked up, frantic: “What’s wrong? What happened?”
“1820—some guests checked in! What do we do? If someone comes to harass—”
It sounded as though he was in a meeting. I heard someone say, “The posts are still being taken down…”
Ethan relaxed when he heard that. “Those are people I arranged to stay there. I’ll explain later. Don’t worry.”
Then he hung up.
Maybe because I hadn’t slept well at the hospital yesterday, or because of everything that happened, my heart felt fluttery and my eyelids twitched.
I made it through to evening. At dinnertime, there was no sign that the people across the hall had ordered food.
Hazel and I bathed early. Before bed she learned she wouldn’t be going to preschool for a while and got a little upset—no more playing with big brother Daniel.
Once she finally fell asleep, I tossed and turned. I pulled out my phone and scrolled aimlessly, then discovered that Ethan had a large stake in this hotel.
That led me to look up his other holdings. The Belle Lingerie factory was only a small piece of his empire.
An article about the local textile industry mentioned several brands. Belle had been the first to push bold, sexy designs into a new market; others followed but never caught up. Only years after Mr. Summers died did the city see a second strong brand—Isa.
The unusual name caught my attention. I searched for “Isa,” and among the results one name stood out: Zach Newman.
I got up, went to the computer, and typed his name.
I had been right: Zach and Ethan had quite a history together. Zach was almost another Ethan.
Like Ethan, Zach had received Mr. Summers’ help and grown up in his household. Zach had arrived two years later. He too had worked hard to get into university, choosing fashion design so he could repay Mr. Summers.
After Mr. Summers died, Zach left the lingerie factory and started Isa Lingerie. Its style and positioning were similar to Belle’s; the two brands were rivals.
I muttered, “So they’ve known each other a long time—did their friendship really go sour over this?”
But thinking of Ethan’s frosty demeanor, maybe it was inevitable. Who could be friends with him easily?
Belle. Isa. Isabelle… The names circled in my mind. The next morning, after breakfast, I was watching cartoons with Hazel when a commotion broke out in the hallway.
I went to the door and peered through the peephole.
Several people were gathered outside room 1820. One stood close to my own door, aiming a camera across the hall, while the person at the front kept knocking.
Soon 1820’s door flew open. My curiosity spiked. A tall, striking woman stood framed in the doorway in a plum-colored silk slip dress. Her waist-length hair lay smooth on her shoulder; irritation showed on her face. She swept the hallway with a disdainful, cold glance.
“What are you doing? Who are you people?”
“Hello.” The man who had knocked ignored her questions and spoke as though she owed him an answer. “Are you Ms. Claire Sutton?”
“Like hell I am! Who the hell are you, disturbing people this early? What kind of lousy hotel lets just anyone wander in?”
“Please watch your language—we’re reporters—”
“Oh please. A badge doesn’t give you the right to harass people. Paparazzi, sure. Reporters? What station are you from?”
The man who had knocked was taken aback and began to stumble over his words. The woman pulled out her phone. Before the group could react, the camera flash went off several times in their faces.
After taking their photographs, she dialed a number and pointed at the group. “Stay right where you are. Don’t any of you try to leave!”
Then she spoke into the phone. “Hello, I need the police.”
“This is The Grand Meridian. Room 1820. There are unidentified people blocking my door, harassing me, and taking photos!”
“My last name is Lin,” she added.
Faced with her fierce tirade, the group exchanged glances and lowered their equipment. Some began trying to placate her. “Miss, please don’t be angry. We mistook you for someone else…”
She ignored their excuses and gave a cold laugh. “Mistook me for someone else? Even if you hadn’t, would that give you the right to barge into a hotel and harass people?”
“Miss, please—we’re sorry—”
“Save your sorry for the cops.”
Even after she had called the police and given her surname, the men still lingered. Then a small voice came from behind the door: “Auntie, I’m hungry.”
A girl with a small ponytail poked her head out. The woman’s expression softened at once. “All right, sweetheart. I’ll order you some breakfast.” She ushered the child back inside.
Only then did the men seem certain they’d been at the wrong door. They scattered toward the hallway exit.
From her doorway the woman shouted after them, “You can run but I took your pictures. Wait for the police!”
She watched them disappear at the end of the hallway, then suddenly looked straight toward my door. She held her gaze there for about half a minute before letting out a long breath and returning to her room.
Hiding behind the door, I was shaken by the intensity of her stare. When she finally retreated I felt my heart slow.
I knew she was on our side, but I had rarely seen such a fierce beauty. And oddly enough, I felt I had seen her somewhere before.
Back on the couch I strained to place her face, but it wouldn’t come.
My phone vibrated.
“Hello? Martha, what’s up?” I answered.
“Daniel came to the house a little while ago,” Martha told me. “By himself?” I asked. “Yes, all by himself. I made him something to eat and took him to kindergarten. I just got back and thought I should let you know.”
A bad feeling rose in my chest, but I pushed it down.
I told Martha we wouldn’t be home for a few days and asked her to keep an eye on things—and if Daniel showed up, to feed him. She agreed.
After hanging up, I hurriedly called Mark. A recorded message said his phone was switched off. I refused to give up and tried several more times, with the same result.
I frowned at my phone and started searching for the hospital’s number.
“Pretty lady on TV!” Hazel suddenly pointed at the television. “Like Mommy!”
I followed her finger. The woman from 1820 was on the screen—no wonder she seemed familiar; she’d been in a mall ad.
Hazel’s comment reminded me: the masseuse the other day had said something similar.
Since waking up in Claire Sutton’s body, I had avoided mirrors whenever possible. Claire was beautiful, but seeing a face that was not my own in the mirror still unsettled me.
The ad playing was for Belle Lingerie. On-screen she was sensual without being tawdry—vibrant, confident, not submissive to conventional standards of female beauty.
Remembering her fierce display through the peephole that morning, I laughed to myself. Apparently, she was just being herself.
When the advertisement ended, I came back to myself and typed the hospital’s name into my phone. Then I changed my mind, deleted it, and searched for “Belle Lingerie spokesperson” instead. The name of the woman in 1820 appeared: Lin Shujing. I could not help smiling again.
Hazel was a quiet child; the thought came to me again. How did she become the paranoid, domineering, twisted woman she later turned into?
Whenever I watched her drawing quietly on the carpet or sleeping in bed like a little angel, I could not help wondering: what had Claire done to Hazel?
I tried to dig through memory for answers, but either time had dulled them or the past was too heavy. Every time I felt on the brink of remembering, the memory slipped away.
I told myself I at least had the present.
Being cut off from the outside world in the hotel had its advantages. Apart from watching cartoons and playing with Hazel, I had plenty of time for my work.
Poor Secretary Gao, though. My procurement requests were keeping him very busy.
Some of the things I needed were specialized, so Ethan had put Gao in charge of buying them.
Once Secretary Gao had bought the items on my list, he passed them to the hotel staff assigned to my room, who brought them up. Before long, my suite was filled with dress forms of every size and piles of fabrics and trims.
Two days passed like that. Daniel still came to our place for breakfast. Martha said he seemed much the same as before, except that every time he came, he asked when Hazel and I would be back.
Posts about Ethan Bennett and Lily Carter still appeared online now and then, but there was nothing new. With so many different stories emerging every day, old news soon faded from public view unless someone kept following it or deliberately stirred it up again.
Ethan cautiously insisted that we stay in the room. My work was nearly finished, so I agreed to stay put for another couple of days.
Then, just as I was starting to relax, I got a call from Lily.
At first, Lily only told me that Noah was completely out of danger and just needed another two days of observation. I told her that I was staying in the hotel.
After a little small talk, we fell silent. Then Lily hesitantly asked whether I had been in touch with Dr. Lewis lately.
Something tightened in my chest. I asked what she meant.
“I’m not sure,” she said. “I overheard some nurses chatting… they said Dr. Lewis’s girlfriend had a car accident.”
My heart lurched so hard my phone nearly slipped out of my hand.
“Hello? Are you there?”
“Where is he? Is he at the hospital?”
“I saw him around noon. I don’t know if he’s still here.”
After ending the call, I tried Dr. Lewis again. No answer. I considered my next move, then called Ethan. I told him I needed to go out on an important errand, but did not want to leave Hazel alone in the room.
He asked where I was going. I didn’t hide that I was going to the hospital.
He thought for a moment, then said he would speak to Lin Shujing and that I could leave Hazel with her.
When I ended the call, Hazel looked up at me. “Mom, why are you going to the hospital?”
“I need to see Daniel’s uncle about something. Can you wait in room 1820 until I come back? Someone you saw today is staying there.”
Hazel blinked. “I only saw you on TV!”
I smiled. “No, the pretty lady you saw on TV. She has a little girl in her room too. Maybe you’ll make a new friend.”
At the mention of a child, Hazel dove into the toy pile and grabbed two unopened toys to give as presents to her new friend. She hadn’t shown it before, but being cooped up indoors for days had clearly made her restless.
We tidied up and put on masks. I cracked the door, checked the hall, then knocked on 1820.
The door opened quickly. Ms. Lin gave me a glance and stepped aside before I said anything. “Mr. Bennett told me to watch the child. You go ahead and take care of what you need.”
“Thank you!”
“You’re welcome.”
She gave Hazel a faint smile and called into the room, “Yvette, settle down. Our guest is here!”
At that, a little head with two tiny buns popped out from behind the door and giggled at Hazel.
On the taxi ride I called Dr. Lewis twice more—still no answer.
By the time I reached the hospital, it was almost the end of his shift. Although I was wearing a mask and cap, I went around to the discreet entrance as a precaution and headed for the elevator that was usually quiet. Perhaps I imagined it, but the display seemed to show it descending a second before I pressed the up button.
Everything around me was silent. Only my heartbeat thundered in my ears. What would I say when I saw Dr. Lewis? His girlfriend had been in a car accident? Was it Rose Rowan? How badly was she hurt?
As the elevator drew nearer, my mouth went dry. Three. Two. One. The doors slowly opened, and I stepped forward. A man was leaning against the wall inside, his head tilted back and his eyes closed. He looked utterly exhausted.
He slowly opened his eyes and started to step out, but stopped when he saw me. He stared in disbelief.
Oddly, my pulse calmed; suddenly I couldn’t hear it at all.
I stood there at a loss. I had not worked out what to say before running into him. Neither of us spoke, and while we stared at each other, the elevator doors began to close.
Dr. Lewis reacted first, hurriedly pressing the door-open button. The doors stopped closing and slid apart again. He showed no sign of coming out, so I gathered my nerve and stepped inside.
“I—I came to see Noah,” I blurted.
“Mm.” He pressed the button for a floor.
The doors closed and the elevator rose.
“I heard your girlfriend had an accident,” I said.
“It was Rose Rowan. She’s not my girlfriend,” he replied flatly.
I felt weak despite having braced myself.
“What happened? Is she hurt? Is it serious?”
He glanced at me. “If you came to see Noah, why don’t you ask how he’s doing?”
My voice caught. He asked, “Did you come… to see me?”
“You came because you were worried about me, didn’t you?” With no answer from me, he had made the question more direct. “I…” I began, but the words would not come. Why had I come here? Why had hearing Lily mention his name filled me with that strange tension and dread? What had all my anxiety on the way here been for? “I was worried… that you might not have time to look after Daniel right now,” I finally said.
At my answer, Dr. Lewis went still. The light in his eyes dimmed further. He looked pale, with deep shadows under his eyes and dark stubble along his jaw. Perhaps the strain of the last few days had worn him down.
“If you don’t mind, I can ask Martha to look after Daniel for a while. He can come to my place, or she can go over to yours.”
“Then I’ll have to trouble you,” he said.
We went to see Noah. Lily looked haggard, but her son’s recovery had lifted her spirits. Noah seemed puzzled to see me at first. After watching his mother chat amicably with me for a while, he shyly called me “Auntie.”
After saying goodbye to Lily, I followed Dr. Lewis out of the hospital. Even as we parted, he would not discuss Rose’s condition. He stretched his neck and shoulders and told me that lately he had been going home to cook for Daniel before heading over to see Rose.
“Since you’re worried about Daniel, you can go over today. I’ll go straight to the other hospital,” he said.
I nodded and watched him walk away. He took a few steps, then hesitated. My heart jumped. He didn’t look back; he kept going.
I felt lost, my body strangely heavy. I could not remember entering the supermarket to buy groceries or arriving at Dr. Lewis’s door.
I pressed the buzzer. I heard some movement inside, like someone shifting a stool, then the lock turned and the door opened. Little Daniel darted out and launched himself at my legs before I could say hello.
A stool stood behind him. He must have used it to look through the peephole and see who was outside.
I set the bag of groceries on the floor and crouched with my hands on his shoulders. Looking at his little face, I felt a wave of heartache.
“Are you hungry?”
He nodded.
I took his hand, led him inside, and settled him in a dining chair. I gave him a ready-to-eat soft-boiled egg, then started cooking, glancing back at him from time to time. He carefully peeled away the shell, then ate with a small spoon, slowly savoring each bite. Hazel was quiet too, but beside her Daniel barely made a sound.
Then his hand tilted, and a spoonful of yolk fell onto the table. He froze, still holding up the spoon. Lips pressed tightly together, he stared at the fallen yolk as though wrestling with an enormous dilemma.
I put the stir-fry on the table, wiped the tiny bit of shell from his cheek, and smiled. “If it drops on the table you can’t eat it, okay?”
“But—”
“I know you like these soft-boiled eggs,” I said. He tilted his head. “How did you know?”
I just smiled and didn’t answer. “I bought you a few. They’re in the fridge. You can have more tomorrow, okay?”
His face lit up. I sat with him as he ate and explained that Martha would look after him for the next few days. I asked whether he wanted to go to my place or have her come here.
He thought a moment, then asked, “If I stay here, will you still come see me?”
My eyelid twitched. I looked closely at him. Two grains of rice clung to the corner of his mouth, and his bright eyes were full of hope.
I wrapped him in my arms. “Wherever you are, I’ll come find you.”
After leaving Dr. Lewis’s apartment, I messaged him. Daniel and I had agreed that he would come to my place for breakfast and dinner. When Mark could not get home, Daniel could stay at my place too.
“Thanks,” he replied.
On the way back to the hotel, the chatty cab driver said enviously, “Only rich people stay at the Grand Meridian. I hear that anyone important in this city would lose face if they didn’t keep a suite booked there!”
I nodded. “I only happened to get the chance to stay for a couple of days. I don’t know much about all that.” He seemed content to keep chatting regardless and went on to tell me funny stories from his time driving a cab.
As I stepped out I bumped my head on the doorframe and my baseball cap slid crooked. I reached up to fix it and remembered this was Dr. Lewis’s cap—I still hadn’t returned it to him.
I would return it next time, I decided, straightening the cap. A figure caught the corner of my eye. I looked up and recognized Zach Newman. He seemed in a very good mood; even his walk suggested smug satisfaction.
As I was studying him, he seemed to sense something and swept his gaze in my direction.
I hurriedly tilted my hat down, pretending I was just glancing around.
Zach Newman paused only a moment, then walked down the steps and left the hotel.
I opened the door to room 1819. A single lamp cast a soft light in the living room.
Just as I reached to turn on the light, a low snore sounded from the living room.
The sound came from a slightly slumped figure in an armchair.
Ethan Bennett sat there with his right elbow on the armrest, his hand barely supporting his head.
His left hand rested on his lap, clutching a contract.
His phone had fallen onto the carpet. A red indicator pulsed to warn that its battery was low.
I crept over and picked up the phone. As I went to set it on the coffee table, I happened to notice the title on the contract’s cover: Equity Transfer.
The phone slipped from my palm and clacked on the table. The sound made me jump; I quickly looked at Ethan, who was dozing.
The sound startled him awake. He drew a deep breath, then used the right hand that had been supporting his head to rub his eyes before lowering it.
"You're back."
He smiled faintly, tossed the contract from his left hand onto the coffee table, and reached out toward me.
I stood rooted to the spot and did not put my hand into his.
His left hand remained suspended between us. The warmth seemed to drain from the room, and the faint smile faded from his lips.
"Where's Hazel?"
I asked.
"She's asleep."
He glanced toward the bedroom, rose from the armchair, and let his outstretched hand fall.
"You're going to… sell the lingerie factory?"
“Yes. While the factory is in my hands, it’s suffering from all this bad publicity. It won’t make much difference to my overall assets, but it has become a burden. Better to let someone else put it to good use. Besides… Zach knows both Belle and the factory. In his hands, at least it wouldn’t be left in its present state.”
"But Mr. Summers entrusted the factory to you so it would thrive under your care, right?"
His tone grew low. "That's better than letting it die on my watch."
We both looked at the contract. I took two deep breaths and ventured, “If I told you… I had a way to help bring Belle Lingerie back from the brink, would you be willing to try it?”
He looked at me, puzzled.
I hurried into the study, pulled out the completed design sketches, and handed them to him.
He looked even more puzzled, but instead of asking questions, he began studying the designs carefully.
“This bra is designed to be easy to put on and take off,” I explained. “It’s mainly for middle-aged and elderly women, and… women who are bedridden for long periods.”
He sighed softly, looking pained on my behalf. “Is this… for your mother?”
I looked at him, confused. It took me a minute to realize what he had assumed.
To him, I was Claire Sutton, the dutiful daughter who had taken on an enormous debt and sold herself to pay for her mother’s treatment. He had no idea that I had designed this bra because of my own old age and illness in my previous life. I had spent so much time in hospital that wearing my old bras for a whole day became torture. Conventional back fastenings were a challenge for elderly women and patients with limited mobility. Women confined to bed could no longer visit a lingerie shop to choose a comfortable bra; many simply went without support. And there was nothing designed specifically for them.
That experience had made me more conscious than ever of being a woman, with a vulnerable sense of dignity that needed care.
With that in mind, I had summoned the last of my strength to create the design.
But I didn't need to explain all that to him.
"What do you think of the market and prospects for this kind of lingerie?"
I sidestepped his question with one of my own.
He frowned slightly, but sounded more assured. “At the moment, there really is a gap in the market for lingerie aimed at middle-aged, elderly, and bedridden women. If we could get there first… Hmm. I’ll have the design and marketing departments examine it together tomorrow. Did you create these designs yourself?”
“Yes. I have fairly complete design data, along with information about fabrics and trims. But I’m not giving it to you for free.”
Afraid he would keep asking how I knew how to design lingerie, I stated my purpose. “Let’s make a deal.”
"Deal?" he echoed.
“If you use my designs, I’ll give you all the data and design details, and provide any technical support you need. In return, I don’t ask for much: I help bring the factory back to life, and you cancel the 5.13 million I owe you, along with all interest.”
“You think a single reasonably creative lingerie design can wipe out a debt of more than five million?”
Of course I believed in it.
In my previous life, I had donated this design to a lingerie company that believed in my approach. My efforts had paid off: the bra soon attracted attention and praise, and within a month of its launch, the company’s value had more than doubled. I almost rolled my eyes at Ethan. If I had not been so eager to free myself of him, I would never have settled for this. Five million was a bargain for him!
“Oh, you’re right. One design in exchange for five million is a bit… Then let’s include Hazel’s custody agreement as well. You had already agreed to give that back to me, so I won’t argue about it.”
At the first part of my proposal Ethan nodded slightly; when I mentioned custody, his neck stiffened.
His eyes narrowed slightly, as though he were weighing something up.
"Of course, if you think it's not worth it, I can sell it to someone else. It's possible to clear the debt another way."
I met his gaze calmly. I wasn't completely certain, but I was gambling.
Years earlier, Ethan had brought the lingerie factory back from the brink. That took not only nerve, but a sharp eye for the market. Even in my previous life, decades later than this moment, my design had been ahead of its time. How much more so now! I believed he would recognize its enormous potential and refuse to let someone else have it.
I had stated my position. Now it was best to say nothing and see whether he would accept it, and how he would respond. That was negotiation. I was not going to give ground.
"Since you're so confident, wouldn't it be more profitable for you to sell it to someone else?"
“Certainly! But you are Hazel’s father, after all. Your reputation is bound to affect her. The product’s potential is secondary. What matters most is that you use it to turn this situation around.”
He looked around at the dress forms, fabrics, and trims filling the room. At last his gaze returned to me. “I agree to the deal.”
“Then it’s settled. Take the designs back and study them. Once you decide to use them, we proceed on the terms I just gave you. Have someone draw up the contract, sign it, and send it over.”
Things were going smoothly. I was in a good mood and hummed a little tune as I took off my hat and set it aside.
"What are you humming?"
"Just a famous song…"
I was about to say the title when I turned and met Ethan’s stare. I swallowed the words.
Close call—this song wouldn't be released for another twenty or thirty years!
"What are you staring at me for?"
“Nothing,” he said mildly, glancing at his watch. “You haven’t had dinner yet, have you? I’ll have room service add a cheese pie for you.”
"No, get the lamb chops instead."
Relieved, I relaxed and named a favorite dish, but his voice stopped me. "Lamb chops? Are you sure?"
"Uh… what about them?"
My pulse quickened, but I kept my face composed. "This hotel does the lamb chops well. Worth trying."
"Alright, then I'll have some too. Nothing else to do tonight—after dinner, we can rest early."
Rest early?
Alarm bells went off in my head.
"You're staying here?"
He did not answer. Instead, he moved slowly toward me and tilted his head, his expression plainly saying, “Where else?”
My mind raced. I needed an excuse to stop him, something natural that would not make him suspicious.
"This… isn't appropriate," I said.
"Why?"
He stepped closer.
"Hazel's still here."
"Tell her to go play across the hall for a bit."
He stepped closer.
"I'm not feeling well."
“Oh? In what way?”
He was standing right in front of me now.
"This… um… I…"
"Mm?"
His voice was soft, but close to my ear it gave me goosebumps.
I was at a loss for words when he suddenly said, “There’s nothing standing in our way now.”
"The request you mentioned before—I can fulfill it now."
Request?
What request?
Seeing my confusion, he gave a soft laugh. “You said you wanted to have a son with me, and now you’ve forgotten? Did all that drinking a while back addle your brain?”
My head buzzed, and my face burned. I might have lived an entire lifetime already, but I had never been in a situation like this. And this was Hazel’s father!
"No, no, no—you must be mistaken. I would never ask that!"
“Why not?” he asked. “You already have a son! Have you forgotten? Come on, man, think!” I exclaimed.
Perhaps my exasperated “Come on, man” had jogged his memory and brought him to his senses.
Ethan simply watched me with a look that said, “Go on, let’s see what you come up with.”
“Noah! Your son! The one in the hospital!”
I gestured wildly, trying to indicate a chubby little boy.
He said nothing.
“Good grief, are you short of sons? You’re not, are you? Besides Noah, there might be others I don’t even know about!”
Perhaps because I was getting so worked up, Ethan suddenly explained, “Apart from Noah and Hazel, I have no other children.”
Huh?
What was going on? Was I supposed to be grateful? I could not tell whether Ethan was simply tactless or did not care how he spoke to the mistress he supported.
He looked serious. Men were impossible to figure out. Mostly, I couldn't be bothered to try.
“I said no before because I couldn’t offer you a place as my wife then. It would have been unfair to make you the mother of two children under those circumstances.”
“Now that’s no longer an issue. Once the gossip outside dies down, if you want to marry me, I can agree.”
He sounded neither flippant nor casual — almost solemn.
But Lily Carter’s face flashed in front of me.
“And what about Lily and Noah?”
The man in front of me lifted his brow, as if he’d never considered that before.
“Give me some time to deal with it.”
“No.”
I said coldly, “Not just ‘deal with it.’ Face up to it. Treat them properly. Take responsibility.”
He looked puzzled.
“Forget it. Go home and think it over.
“You’re a grown man. Whatever made you begin a relationship with someone, you owe that person honesty. Otherwise, don’t you feel sorry for them?”
He nodded without arguing.
“As for me, Hazel is enough.”
“Then why were you drinking before?”
“I forgot.”
“Not because you didn’t have a son?”
“No.”
“Then why don’t you want a son now?”
I honestly missed the brooding, domineering CEO who sat in his office smoking and drinking. I did not want to say another word to the pest who now refused to leave me alone.
“Can you—”
I was impatient to end the conversation.
“Mom.”
Hazel had woken without our noticing. She stood in the living-room doorway, clutching a stuffed rabbit and looking timidly at Ethan and me. “Are you two arguing?”
Ethan and I glanced at each other at the same moment.
I stepped forward and picked Hazel up. “Nope. Daddy and I were just discussing something.”
Hazel pressed her forehead against my cheek. “Discussing what?”
Ethan seemed in a good mood and came over to pinch her cheek. “Mom and Dad were talking about getting Hazel a little baby brother.”
Hearing that almost set me off.
Before I could lose my temper, Hazel began to scream. “No little brother! No little brother! No little brother!”
She squirmed so hard that I had to shift her higher in my arms to hold her securely. I kept soothing her. “No little brother. No little brother, sweetheart. Daddy was only teasing!”
But she carried on like she couldn’t hear me, sobbing, “No little brother, no little brother—waaah!”
Ethan, unaccustomed to a child throwing a tantrum like this, lost his usual composure and stood there scratching his head, stammering, “I… you… your mom…”
I rolled my eyes and stalked to the coffee table, grabbed the design drawings, and shoved them into his arms. “Take these. Get out. Don’t forget the terms we agreed on.”
Without waiting for him to respond, I practically shoved him out of the room.
“No little brother! No little brother! No little brother! Waaah—”
Hazel sobbed against my neck, her face buried there. At some point, her toy rabbit had fallen to the floor.
I crouched awkwardly with her in my arms and picked up the toy. “Hazel, look—your rabbit!”
“No rabbit! No rabbit! No rabbit! Waaah—”
She didn’t even glance at it and waved her little hand in the air, refusing.
“Okay, okay—no rabbit, no little brother. Stop crying, okay?”
She burrowed further into me but kept sobbing.
“Look—look—your daddy’s gone!”
At that, she lifted her head doubtfully and her sobs began to subside. Only when she saw that Ethan was no longer in the room did she relax. “Daddy’s gone. Then… then there won’t be a little brother.” She sniffled.
I did not know whether to laugh or cry.
All evening she flooded me with the thousand questions of a child: “Mom, do you love me?”
“Mom, do you love little brother more or Hazel more?”
“Mom, why does Daddy want a little brother?”
“Is it because a little brother would have a penis?”
“What am I going to do? I don’t think I like Hazel very much.”
With my arm linked through Daniel Lewis’s, I leaned slightly to one side and tilted my head playfully, half teasing him and half testing his reaction.
“Mm.”
He answered calmly. “I know.”
“Know what?”
I shook him, pouting.
“It’s only natural that you don’t like her,” Daniel said with a short sigh. “I don’t like her either.”
“Then why are you still friends with her?”
“Isn’t there a saying, ‘If you understood my past, you would forgive the person I am now’?”
I nodded.
“Well, I’m the one who knows her past…”
“So you mean she had an unhappy childhood?”
He smiled faintly. “I promise to keep my distance as much as possible. I won’t let her trouble you, okay?”
I shrugged, noncommittal.
He looked at me with nothing but warmth, slipped his arm out and drew me close, leaning in. A sweet warmth rose in my chest and I lifted my face to meet him.
Just as our lips were about to touch, I woke up.
For a long time I lay in bed, touching my lips, unable to shake my longing for the grown-up Daniel from the dream. Only when Hazel murmured in her sleep beside me did I return to the present.
The little person beside me looked peaceful and sweet even in sleep.
These past few days, she had stopped saying she did not want a little brother, but she still seemed anxious. She refused to wear her favorite dresses or anything pink or red. She even stopped playing with the dolls Ethan had bought her. Instead, she had dug a little train out of the toy pile and carried it everywhere.
I reached under the pillow — something had been poking my shoulder. Sure enough: Hazel’s new favorite train.
I gently set the train on Hazel’s pillow, got out of bed, and tiptoed to the window. I parted the curtains just a little. The sky was gray and hazy. It did not look like a good day.
Ethan had told me that, after studying my design, the team unanimously agreed it was a technical innovation. The factory had already adjusted its production line, and marketing was busily preparing the promotional campaign. This time, PR and marketing were working closely together, determined to turn the situation around.
Though Ethan didn’t say it outright, I’d seen the negative coverage about Belle Lingerie online.
The largest Belle store in the city had been splashed with paint. After they were caught, the vandals insisted they were “doing heaven’s work.” Although they faced fines and compensation, the store still decided to close temporarily. The cost of refurbishing was a minor concern compared with the damage to the brand. More and more people said they would never buy Belle again, and its share price kept falling.
Worse, it wasn’t just Belle — Ethan’s entire business empire had taken heavy losses.
Under that pressure, the new product launch had to make the biggest possible impact. Ethan knew that, so everything was moving at breakneck speed.
I had seen him only once in the past few days, when he brought over the materials the purchasing department had selected for me to inspect. He arrived at lunchtime and fell asleep on the sofa while I was setting out the dishes. An hour later he jolted awake and hurriedly ate a few mouthfuls. Before leaving, he told me that his people were using Lin Shujing’s photographs to identify and investigate the paparazzi who had come to the hotel. They had also been making arrangements behind the scenes. He told me not to worry, and said I could take Hazel out if she wanted, as long as we took precautions.
I looked at the gloomy sky and decided to go to the hospital to see Lily Carter.
While I helped Hazel dress after she woke, she glanced at her little dress and pressed her lips together, but chose denim overalls instead. Half amused and half exasperated, I helped her into them and told her we were going to the hospital.
“Mom, are we going to see Uncle Mark?” Hazel asked in her little voice. “Will Daniel be there?”
“We’re not going to the children’s hospital today,” I said, smiling and shaking my head. “We’re going to the general hospital to see your other brother.”
“Other brother?”
She pouted.
“Noah. He’s your older brother too.”
I slipped her little boots on, looked her over with satisfaction, and gave her a gentle pat.
“No, I don’t want to go, I don’t want to go!”
At the mention of Noah, her pout deepened. She shook her head and tried to run back into the room, but I caught her and drew her back.
“Listen.” I raised a finger to my lips. “Sweetheart, let Mommy finish, and then we can decide whether to go, all right?”
She squirmed, but obediently nodded.
“Noah was very, very sick and stayed alone in the hospital for many days.”
“He was sick?” She cocked her head. “Did he die?”
I hadn’t expected that. I flinched. “What do you mean?”
“Didn’t Mom always say it’d be better if Noah died?”
I saw my own reflection in her innocent eyes.
I steadied myself, forced down my distress, and crouched in front of her. “Hazel, Mommy was wrong before. I owe you an apology.”
“Mommy wasn’t always…mature. I shouldn’t have had those awful thoughts.”
“Noah isn’t my child, but he is your father’s son. That makes him your older brother by blood. Of course, if you don’t want to think of him as your brother, I can understand that.”
“I was wrong before. I didn’t handle things with Aunt Lily and Noah properly.”
“But Aunt Lily and I get along better now.”
"Today we're visiting Noah at the hospital," I said. "Whether you want to be friends with him is up to you, okay?"
I rambled on like that, not knowing if she understood, but she still nodded. Before we left, she even hesitated a bit as she sifted through her toys. "Mom, there aren't any boy toys in here."
I smiled. "Boys can like teddy bears too!"
"Um… Hazel, hi."
In the hospital room, Lily Carter awkwardly rubbed her hands together and shyly greeted Hazel.
Her clothes and style were very different from before. Hazel didn't recognize her at first and froze for a second.
When she realized who it was, she scooted back behind me like she was a little scared.
Lily noticed and hurriedly picked up a small, pretty box from the table. She crouched down in front of Hazel and smiled gently. "Hazel, I knew you were coming. I bought you a gift—hope you like it."
She offered the box. Hazel took another step back.
“I always envied families with little princesses. If it weren’t for… Oh, never mind. I did a lot of unkind things to you before. Can you forgive me?”
Hazel glanced up at me. I gave her an encouraging smile.
Hazel shyly peered out from behind me, nodded, and slowly reached for the box. When she opened it, she found a pair of delicate hair clips inside.
Hazel's eyes lit up and a smile bloomed on her face. She whispered sweetly, "Thank you, Auntie."
"Didn't you say you brought Noah a present too, Hazel?"
Hazel nodded and carried the teddy bear to the bedside. She stretched her arms up, trying to lift it high enough. “This is for you.”
Noah scratched his head. "Thanks."
"Is Noah supposed to be resting in bed?" I asked Lily.
“No, he’s just bored. There’s no one to play with when he gets up, so he’s staying in bed and sulking!”
Lily scolded him playfully, pulled Noah up, and put a jacket on him. "See? Your sister is here. Let's go to the garden and play for a while, okay?"
Noah grinned and let his mother lift him off the bed. As he passed me, he shyly said, “Hello, Auntie.”
Then he darted out without another word.
We all went to the garden. It didn't take long for Noah and Hazel to be playing together.
Watching the two little ones, I felt a small surge of relief. "Thank you."
“Oh, don’t mention it!” Lily tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “I really do like little girls. But you know how things were between us. If it weren’t for all that mess…”
"I understand."
"Sometimes I think, if I hadn't fallen for Ethan, if I had just dated normally, married normally, had a son and a daughter, my life would have been perfect."
I stayed silent.
"We're both people fate messed with. You've made your own mistakes too," Lily said with a smile. "You used to be so annoying!"
“Was I really that bad before?” Her words reminded me of what Hazel had said earlier.
“Oh, you were!” Lily said. “When I first heard about you, you still seemed like a naive girl from a poor backwater. Before long, you were a different person: designer bags, designer shoes, every luxury you could wear. And Ethan spoiled you so much…”
"But to be honest, during your drinking phase, Ethan clearly grew disgusted. I thought you two might be done for…"
Her voice trailed off suddenly.
I followed her gaze and saw what she was looking at.
A thin man far off was pushing a woman in a wheelchair, strolling slowly.
It was Mark and Rose Rowan.
“By the way, you and Dr. Lewis…” Lily probed. I shook my head slowly.
“Funny thing—we met Dr. Lewis the day we were transferred here. I heard from the nurses that the woman in the wheelchair is Rose Rowan. She works at this hospital, and they say Dr. Lewis is her boyfriend. Did you know that?”
I shook my head, then nodded. "I knew she was a doctor, but not that she worked here."
Lily waved a hand. “That’s not what I meant! I was asking… Oh, never mind. I’m a bit nosy, so I asked around. Apparently Rose had a car accident a few days ago. I wondered why Dr. Lewis was the only one looking after her, with no family in sight.”
I watched Dr. Lewis in the distance while listening closely as Lily continued. “I heard she’s actually from a wealthy local family. They disapproved of her being with Dr. Lewis, so she fell out with them and came to live on her own. She didn’t even tell them about the accident.”
“Because Dr. Lewis has a kid?” I asked.
"Heh, guess what—no, that's not it."
“Then why?” I was genuinely surprised. Dr. Lewis was handsome, had a good career, and was wonderfully likable. Apart from being unmarried and raising a child, I could see little that anyone might object to.
“It’s strange. The nurses couldn’t explain it clearly either. Something about Dr. Lewis being an orphan?”
"Mama, can you clip this on for me?"
At Hazel’s voice, I turned from the taxi window. She was holding one of the hair clips Lily had given her, looking at me with bright, expectant eyes.
"Of course."
I took the clip, steadied her head, twisted a little strand of her bangs, and fastened it in place.
"Does it look pretty?"
"Very pretty."
"Mama, Aunt Lily says girls are better than boys!"
“How so?” I asked.
"Aunt Lily says girls can wear pants or skirts, but boys can only wear pants. So girls are better!"
I laughed and rubbed her head, keeping quiet.
My mind buzzed with Lily’s line that “Dr. Lewis is an orphan” and Rose’s earlier words, “You’re not his uncle at all.”
How could he be an orphan? How could he not be Daniel’s uncle? If he was not Daniel’s uncle, why had he been the one to raise him?
Questions spun in my head. I wanted to pull Mark over and demand answers.
"Mama, why are we going back to the hotel? I want to go home," Hazel muttered, pressing her face to the taxi window.
I looked out again. The sky had darkened even more; thick clouds pressed down. A storm was coming.
I called Martha. She was cooking for Daniel at his apartment and said Dr. Lewis would not be home until that evening.
It took all my self-control not to ask Daniel about the things I could not understand. After ending the call, I felt drained in body and mind.
Outside the taxi, the scenery blurred. Hazel kept narrating what she saw.
We stopped at a light, but when it turned green the taxi wouldn't move. The driver fiddled with it and apologized, then asked us to get out. He said the hotel was about two kilometers away.
I tried to hail another cab but failed. Every car speeding by was full of people rushing home before the rain.
I glanced at the lowering clouds and scooped Hazel into my arms. "Let's walk."
She hugged my neck and nodded. "Okay!"
We walked down the road. Hazel held tight and giggled, "Mama, I like walking with you."
I teased her. “You haven’t taken a single step! Does that even count as a walk?”
She laughed and rubbed her damp hair against my cheek.
Her hair was already soft; the humid air made it even more so, cool and soft on my face. I let her, savoring the moment. "You little stinker, Hazel."
She'd been running and playing with Noah so much she was sweaty; there was a faint tang in her hair. She laughed more when I teased her and nuzzled me harder.
A large raindrop landed on my lower eyelid.
Hazel froze, wiped it away, and whispered, "Mama, are you crying?"
"Are you sad because you want a little brother?" she asked.
I shook my head and hugged her tighter. "Mama has you. That's enough."
The rain grew heavier. I took off my jacket, covered Hazel’s head and body with it, and broke into a quick jog.
People hurried past, and even the cars seemed to pick up speed. Through the rain, I could see the hotel not far ahead. I shifted Hazel higher in my arms.
A black car stopped beside us. The rear door opened, and a man leaned toward us from inside. “Get in.”
I looked and recognized Zach Newman.
Seeing me hesitate, he added, "You're headed to the hotel, right? I'll take you. It's pouring and the kid will catch a cold."
That settled it. I climbed in with Hazel.
"Thank you."
I removed the jacket from around Hazel, folded it with the wet side in, and held it in my hands.
"Thanks, sir," Hazel chimed sweetly.
“You’re welcome,” Zach said with a smile. “I saw your hat and recognized you.”
For a moment, my mind went blank. I touched the cap, a little embarrassed. It was Dr. Lewis’s cap, the one I had worn when I first met Zach at the hotel.
Zach nodded and didn't press.
We reached the hotel's garage quickly. Hazel and I thanked him over and over.
“If you’re that grateful, how about having dinner together sometime?” Zach said with a smile. “Let me introduce myself properly. I’m Zach Newman, an old acquaintance of Ethan’s. May I ask your surname?”
"My mom's name is—"
"What should we treat Uncle Zach to, Hazel?" I asked.
"Mama says the hotel's lamb chops are delicious. Let's take Uncle Zach for lamb chops!" Hazel announced loudly.
“My surname is Lin,” I said. “Ethan is a friend of mine too.”
“Then that makes us friends too,” Zach said.
He looked as though he had just understood something and offered me a business card. “My contact details are on there. Whenever you have time, let’s have those lamb chops.”
He waved goodbye to Hazel and closed the car door.
As the car pulled away, Hazel let out a long sigh.
"Mom, is that man a bad guy?"
I stared at her, startled by the unexpected question. “Why do you ask?”
"Mom, you lied."
Back in our room, I gave Hazel a hot bath and settled her to sleep. Then I sat alone, lost in thought.
Why had I lied to Zach?
I couldn't explain it.
By now, I had grown used to living as Claire Sutton. I was trying to be a mother and to use my own abilities to free myself from the constraints of Claire’s life.
At first I couldn't understand why fate had put me in this mess.
As the days passed, I gradually let go of those pointless questions. I accepted Hazel, found comfort in caring for Daniel, and faced Mark with conflicting feelings… I had almost forgotten who I was.
Until Zach asked my name.
Almost instinctively, I lied.
Deep down I resisted meeting Zach as Claire Sutton. I couldn’t put my finger on why. I knew exposing the lie probably wouldn’t be hard for him given the situation, and yet I chose to keep it.
I strained to find an answer in my heart—it felt like I was on the verge of seeing it, but the answer drifted away like smoke.
At around three or four that afternoon, Lin Shujing brought Yvette to our room for a visit and to say goodbye.
Lin Shujing had to travel abroad for work, while Yvette was going back to her mother.
Watching Hazel and Yvette play in the corner, Lin Shujing said, “I used to hear rumors that Mr. Bennett had overruled everyone else and chosen me from all those models because I looked like someone. I didn’t believe it. It made me furious.”
"Seeing you now, I finally understand how that gossip started."
“To be honest, during the years I represented Belle Lingerie, I once had a crush on Mr. Bennett. I wanted to prove I was better, more charming than the woman he liked.”
"But the longer I knew him, the more I realized he was a miserable, dull man. For him, aside from work, life seemed meaningless. I even wondered if he was capable of truly liking someone."
“So I gave up. I’m still young. Why should I trap myself in a miserable one-sided love? Even if I proved he found me attractive, what would that change?”
“He had a wife, a mistress, children. I wasn’t going to get mixed up in that.”
"But…" Her voice trailed off; her lips trembled and her eyes reddened. Seeing me look, she hurriedly downed a glass of water.
“But part of you still can’t let it go.”
I lowered my eyes, pretending not to notice her tears. “Have you heard that saying, ‘Everyone I fall in love with looks like you’? Something along those lines?”
She nodded.
"I've lived a lifetime, and I hate that phrase more than anything."
"Why?"
"Here's how I see it: who someone chooses to be with, or the type they like, has nothing to do with that person's exact identity. We choose a type. It's not that one person looks like another; it's that everyone he likes fits a certain type."
“That’s how I see it. So don’t torment yourself over those pointless rumors. You and I may simply fit the same type, whether in looks, personality, or something else.”
“But one thing is certain: you were chosen because you were good at what you do.”
"Maybe Ethan just happens to fit the type you like. That's all. You're young—give yourself more chances."
After I said that, she seemed to relax and smiled. "Are you afraid I'll steal him from you?"
I laughed. “Please, take him off my hands!”
“Please. I’m far too gorgeous to waste on him!”
We were still laughing together when the phone on the table buzzed. I answered. “Hello, Martha. What is it?”
"Claire, I'm at Dr. Lewis's place. There's someone who wants to see you. Can you come?"
"Dr. Lewis? He's back?"
"No—it's Daniel's grandmother."
The woman sitting before me was Daniel’s maternal grandmother. She was probably only in her sixties, but the exhaustion and grief on her face made her look much older.
Losing a child is the cruelest sorrow.
She sat quietly on the sofa. Daniel stood in front of her, leaning into her embrace as though reluctant to let go.
Martha set two cups of tea on the coffee table and said she needed to go home to get something. As she started to leave, the woman called her back, asking her to take Daniel out for a walk.
Martha glanced at me. I nodded.
Daniel obediently followed Martha out.
"Claire, may I call you Claire?" the woman asked with a kindly smile.
I nodded and returned the smile.
“Daniel and the lady who helps here have told me a little about you. Thank you for taking such good care of Mark and Daniel.”
“Poor Daniel lost his parents so young, and Mark is at such a busy stage in his career. At home, I’m always worrying. Has Daniel eaten on time? Is he dressed warmly enough, or too warmly? Whenever I think about it, I start to cry…”
She took a handkerchief from her pocket and dabbed at her tears. After a sniff and a long breath, she continued. “I don’t often get a chance to visit. When I saw someone here looking after him and learned that you had sent your own nanny to help, I was so grateful. Thank you, Claire.”
"Dr. Lewis is busy, but he cares about Daniel. You don't need to worry too much," I reassured her.
“I may be old, but I’m not foolish. How can it be easy for a young man who is still sorting out his own life to raise a child as well? If we had any other choice, we wouldn’t burden Mark like this…” Her words touched on the very thing I was desperate to understand. Before I could choose my words, the question slipped out. “I heard Mark isn’t Daniel’s biological uncle…”
Surprise crossed her face, as though she had not expected me to know. “Mark told you about that too?”
I was momentarily speechless; I couldn't very well say I'd heard gossip. She didn't press. Instead she sighed and began to speak.
“Mark isn’t Daniel’s biological uncle, that’s true. But he has been every bit as devoted to him as an uncle by blood could be.”
She told the story like someone carrying a small candle through the dark—wanting to share its light with anyone she met.
No one knew who Mark’s parents were. He had been abandoned at the orphanage, wrapped only in a blanket. The director took him inside and checked him over. Finding him healthy, the director cared for him for a while, hoping his parents might have a change of heart and come back for him.
Several months passed. The frail baby grew plump, but no one came to ask about him. At last, the director completed the paperwork to register him at the orphanage.
Because he was healthy, many people wanted to adopt him. After choosing with great care, the director placed him with a well-off couple. They had been married for five or six years without having children and had given up on that hope, deciding to adopt instead.
After Mark was taken away, the director felt relieved but always worried about him.
The director had not expected to see him again. Yet a year later he was brought back. The director learned that the wife had become pregnant soon after the adoption. The couple had wanted to return Mark at once, but someone told them he had brought them the pregnancy. Afraid of losing it, they kept him until their baby was safely born, then sent him straight back to the orphanage.
The director was heartbroken to see the once-plump child come back so thin.
After that, whenever anyone wanted to adopt Mark, the director could not stop worrying and kept putting it off. When he was six, the director finally entrusted him to another family, unable to bear the thought of him spending his whole childhood in the orphanage.
But the same thing happened again. Soon after Mark arrived, the woman became pregnant. This family did not send him back, but they stopped treating him as an adopted son and made him their little servant. He had to wash clothes, scrub dishes, and do work beyond what a child his age could manage. If he did it badly, they beat him or left him hungry.
To save money for their own child, they refused to send Mark to school. After about six months of this treatment, he scalded his lower leg while heating water for the baby. They would not pay for treatment. Unable to bear the abuse any longer, he limped back to the orphanage.
After that, the director could not bear to send him away again, and Mark himself refused to leave. So he stayed at the orphanage.
“In high school, he became close friends with Daniel’s parents. Mark and Daniel’s father were always coming to our house for meals. Those two were so close that for a while I thought they were brothers!”
“I thought they were brothers too, because Dr. Lewis and Daniel’s father shared the surname Lewis,” I said.
“Mark chose the surname Lewis himself, after the orphanage director. Perhaps it was fate.”
She sipped her tea and went on. “My husband and I used to joke that they were both fine young men. Which of them would become our son-in-law?”
“Daniel’s father was hardly better off than Mark. His parents were alive, but that did not make his childhood much happier.”
“They were always fighting and taking it out on him. It got so bad that he didn’t even want to go home.”
At the mention of Daniel’s paternal grandparents, she frowned. “Those two were heartless. They had a perfectly good son and neither of them wanted him. After the divorce, they passed him back and forth like rubbish!
“So cold-hearted!
“When my daughter and son-in-law had their accident, his cruel parents did not even help with the funeral arrangements!”
She broke into a fierce coughing fit. I went over and patted her back, trying to ease it. At last the coughing subsided, and she gave a long sigh. “Poor Daniel…”
“At first we thought perhaps it was just as well. At least no one would fight us for Daniel, and raising him ourselves would be a comfort. But after our daughter and son-in-law’s accident, my husband grew worse by the day. He grieved terribly, then had a stroke that left him partly paralyzed.
“Mark saw me trying to care for my husband and raise my grandson on my own, so he offered to bring Daniel up. We had no one better to turn to. Given how close he had been to Daniel’s parents, we knew we could trust him with the boy.”
I froze on the spot.
In my previous life, Mark had only been Daniel’s uncle, someone I had never met. He was a memory, a figure from an older generation whose story saddened me.
In this life, I had not only met him but learned the long-buried story of his childhood. As it unfolded before me, I felt overwhelming despair and heartache. A man who knew nothing of his origins, making his way through the world alone… and in the future I remembered, he would face death alone too.
Seeing my expression change, she asked with concern what was wrong.
I couldn't hold it in any longer and choked out, "I want to help him, but I don't know what I can do… what should I do?"
Back at the hotel, Lin Shujing told me Ethan Bennett had stopped by earlier but left when I wasn’t there.
She handed me an invitation with her name on it.
“Mr. Bennett said the new-product launch is in a few days. If you want to go, you can attend as me. He’ll send someone to do your makeup. Most people haven’t seen me in person, so as long as you don’t attract too much attention, you should be able to pass.”
Lin Shujing and Yvette stayed for dinner with Hazel and me, then said goodbye. As she left, Lin Shujing teased, “I was hoping to see you knock everyone dead with your looks, but safety first!” She laughed.
Once the guests left, I could no longer hold myself up. I sank onto the sofa, exhausted, and tried to rest.
When I closed my eyes, I remembered Daniel’s grandmother and what she had said. “Claire, at my age, there’s one thing I’ve come to understand. The people we meet and the things that happen to us are fate.
“But what is fate? A game of chess laid out by heaven. Whether we lose at every turn or win at every step, what matters is that we play it through wholeheartedly. Even if we make one mistake after another, there is nothing to regret and nothing to fear.”
“I don’t know what happened between you and Mark, but I trust him, and I trust you. Do what you can. As for the things none of us can control, those belong to Mark’s fate, and Daniel’s. Don’t be too hard on yourself.”
I covered my eyes with my hands. If events followed the course of my previous life, there were still fifteen years before Mark would go abroad alone.
Fifteen years. There was still so much I could change. Not only for Mark, but for Daniel, and…
I sat up on the sofa and looked at Hazel in the corner straightening up the toy pile.
"Hazel."
I called to her.
"Yes, Mama?"
She came running, clutching a doll. I took her in my arms. "Hazel, are you happy?"
She hugged me back. "I'm the happiest!"
I rubbed my chin against her little head and something felt off. "Hmm? Hazel, where's the other hair clip?"
After little Yvette left, Hazel grew restless in the hotel. For several nights, she asked before bed when we could go home. We still did not know whether paparazzi were lurking around our apartment complex, so I was reluctant to make a move. Ethan’s launch was almost here; the fewer complications, the better.
We stayed put until the morning of the launch, when Martha brought Daniel to the Grand Meridian. As soon as they entered our room, Daniel held a daffodil over his head.
I took the daffodil and crouched to hug him. Behind me, Hazel asked, “Daniel, don’t I get a flower too?”
Little Daniel loosened one arm from around my neck. “I don’t have enough pocket money left. How about this?”
He pulled out a hard candy from his pocket and handed it to Hazel. She took it, smiled, unwrapped it, and popped it in her mouth.
Almost immediately her face puckered. "So sour!"
Daniel giggled. “It’s lemon candy.”
I played with Daniel and Hazel in the hotel until noon. Just after lunch, the stylist Ethan had sent arrived.
While the stylist did my makeup, Hazel and Daniel sat beside me, each with a glass of juice. They sipped noisily, watching me intently and offering their opinions.
"Mama is so pretty!" Hazel declared.
"You're really pretty!" Daniel chimed in.
The stylist was amused by them and, smiling, put a pair of light-cocoa crescent sunglasses on my face to finish the look.
“Ah! You look like Auntie Lin!” Hazel shouted.
“Who’s Auntie Lin?” Daniel asked.
Hazel pulled a Polaroid from her little bag and showed it to Daniel. He compared it to my face, nodded, and pointed. "Who's this?"
“This is my new friend. Her name is Yvette.”
"You have a new friend?"
"Yes. She left, but when she comes back you can be friends with her. She's great!"
I listened to their lively back-and-forth without interrupting.
I studied myself in the mirror. Hazel was right: I really did look like Lin Shujing.
The stylist was skilled. The lower half of my face already resembled Lin Shujing’s, and with careful shading and highlights, she made us look almost identical.
The biggest difference between Lin Shujing’s face and Claire’s was in the eyes. Lin Shujing’s were elongated, with upturned outer corners; mine were rounder, with level outer corners. With shadow and eyeliner, the stylist created a bold, lifted shape. Unless someone looked closely, it would be hard to tell us apart.
The light-cocoa sunglasses helped too. They concealed some of the differences around our eyes and made the bridges of our noses look more alike. In the mirror, the stylist raised an eyebrow at me, pleased with her work.
I left Hazel and Daniel in the room with Martha and walked out with the stylist.
On the way to the launch, I learned that the stylist often worked with Lin Shujing and knew her features and makeup well.
“But I’m curious,” the stylist said. “Ms. Lin used to be an essential part of every Belle Lingerie launch. Not only is she missing this one, but Mr. Bennett is sending you dressed as her. Why?”
I did not know what Ethan had told her, so I cautiously smiled and said nothing. Taking the hint, the stylist said she would join Ethan’s staff when we arrived at the venue. If I needed her, I could call.
At the venue, I said goodbye to the stylist and went in alone, using Lin Shujing’s entry pass.
Everything felt odd, and I wasn't alone in sensing it.
I was in a wide corridor lined on both sides with displays the organizers had built.
The theme was simple: "The Woman I Love."
The display wall presented a girl's journey from adolescence to maturity. Each stage was represented by a pink female silhouette.
The adolescent silhouette was the palest pink. She faced a display of sweet, youthful bras, pointing to one of them.
Next came a young woman in love. Her silhouette deepened to bright pink, and she shyly covered her face before a bra that was both playful and sensual.
By the wedding silhouette, the pink was almost red—matching the two suggested lingerie choices: pure white and festive red.
After the wedding came pregnancy. The silhouette’s belly rounded and its pink color softened; the corresponding lingerie now included nursing bras and other pieces for motherhood.
I stopped there, studying the silhouette's curve and drifting into thought.
I had never given birth, yet fate had made me a mother. Though I had never known the pain or joy of childbirth myself, caring for little Hazel had shown me how wonderful that bond could be.
The corridor went on, tracing a woman’s continuing growth. Sensual or romantic, the many styles she could choose from seemed as varied as her inner life.
Each look made you wonder what kind of woman would choose it.
I was lost in thought until I realized I'd reached the end of the corridor, where more people had gathered.
Over their heads I could see a huge display wall filled with all manner of lingerie—each piece labeled with a number starting from 1.
The crowd moved slowly. I followed and saw why.
In front of the lingerie wall were seven small platforms. Each platform had a gray-pink silhouette—clearly representing middle-aged to older women.
Staff guided each attendee onto a platform to stand behind the silhouette and choose a piece they thought would suit her, seeing the choices from her perspective. After stepping down, attendees passed through the entrances on either side of the display wall and entered their chosen item’s number into a voting machine. If they found nothing suitable, they entered 0.
Even though I already knew about the product being launched, the care that had gone into this display impressed me. Standing behind the gray-pink silhouette, I too studied the hundreds of pieces on the wall.
Whispers rose behind me from time to time, but those who stepped onto a platform fell silent, as if by agreement.
Each person studied the lingerie wall carefully, then stepped down with a serious expression and solemnly entered a number into the voting machine.
Soon we reached the main presentation hall. While I was still getting my bearings, I overheard a quiet conversation nearby.
“Well, this is different. Lingerie launches usually have a runway. Why isn’t there one this time? With this setup, you’d think they were launching a phone.”
“It’s not that strange. Did you see what else is here? When I walked through the corridor I noticed — besides fashion reporters, there are a lot of general news reporters…”
“General news?”
“Oh, it’s all those recent stories. Isabelle Summers’ death, Mr. Bennett’s… um, his mistress’s son being seriously ill. Ethan Bennett rarely appears in public or gives interviews. The internet is full of exposés, and he hasn’t issued a statement. These reporters are probably hoping to dig up something big.”
“What? Is Ethan Bennett coming out in person?”
“Don’t you know? Word is his company is taking this very seriously. He’s expected to appear.”
“That’ll be a show.”
“Who knows? But honestly, I’m more curious about the product. Did you vote when you went by?”
“Ugh, don’t remind me. I stood there staring forever trying to picture what my mom wears. I’m a thirty-year-old man — when have I ever paid attention to this?”
“Me neither. I asked a woman I work with and she couldn’t remember what her mom wore either.”
“I do remember the bras my mom used to hang on the balcony when I was little. If I think hard, I can picture them. But those styles surely wouldn’t suit her at her age now.”
“So what’d you vote?”
“Zero. Strange, isn’t it? All those styles, but when I really thought about it, none seemed right for my mom.”
“Same here. What are they getting at? Could the new product be bras for older women?”
“Probably. But why make such a big deal out of launching them?”
“We’ll see.”
Hearing them, I couldn’t help but smile. The mystery was working — everyone guessed something, but no one was sure. Perfect.
Pleased, I threaded through the crowd in search of my seat. Ethan had messaged to say it was in a discreet section on the left. I carefully made my way over and soon found it.
I sat down and let out a small relieved breath. Good—no one noticed me.
Someone patted my shoulder lightly. I turned, surprised.
“Hello, are you Ms. Lin Shujing?”
An unfamiliar woman stood just behind me to one side, apparently a reporter. The person following her had a video camera on their shoulder, pointed straight at my face.
Before I could react, the woman rattled off an introduction. I had not even caught which outlet she represented before she began asking questions. “Ms. Lin, we all noticed there’s no runway at this launch. Can you give us some inside information?”
I thought to myself — you’ll know in a minute — but kept my expression calm. “Sorry, I’m as curious as you are. Let the organizers reveal the surprise.”
She wasn’t satisfied. “Ms. Lin, since you’re not appearing onstage and you don’t know the new product, does that mean you’ve ended your collaboration with Belle Lingerie?”
Lin Shujing had mentioned no such thing. “If our collaboration had ended, Belle Lingerie and I would announce it through official channels. Thank you for your concern.”
That didn’t stop the reporter. Exchanging a glance with the cameraperson, she tried again. “I heard Mr. Newman from Isa reached out to you before. Any thoughts on cooperation?”
Isa? Zach Newman? That surprised me. He had approached Lin Shujing too? Could he have mistaken Hazel and me for Yvette and Lin Shujing?
“Ms. Lin?” the reporter prodded.
“Again, if there’s news I will announce it officially,” I said.
“Ms. Lin—”
“Excuse me.”
A man’s voice cut her off. A hand came up to block the camera. “The press conference is about to start. If you have questions, why not save them for the organizers afterward?”
It was Zach Newman. I was startled. Speak of the devil. The reporter paused for a moment, recognized him, and immediately pursued her next question. “Mr. Newman, we hear Isa thinks highly of Ms. Lin as a spokesperson. Might you work together in the future?”
Zach still shielded the lens but answered politely, “This is Belle Lingerie’s launch. Let’s focus on the host.”
Then he turned to me. “This seat is a bit out of the way. Why don’t you move forward? You’ll see better.”
I was reluctant to go with him, but I could not seem to escape the persistent reporter and the camera. Refusing him now did not seem like a good option either, so I got up and followed.
His stride was steady and quick. I tried a few times to thank him and step away, but didn’t get the chance.
Soon he stopped at a seat near the front and gestured for me to sit.
“This seat is reserved. I shouldn’t take it,” I said, looking at the name card. Zach replied, “The person it’s for was supposed to come with me, but something came up and they can’t make it. Please, go ahead.”
He gave a mild smile and pulled out the chair.
Before I could politely object again, the opening music swelled from the stage. With a resigned sigh, I thanked him and sat down. Fine. I would deal with whatever came.
As the opening music ended, the host took the stage, settled the audience, and formally introduced the keynote speaker: Belle Lingerie’s design director.
Just as people had said, this felt more like the launch of a tech product than of lingerie. A giant screen displayed a 3D model of a bra.
Even the men in the room noticed something different about the bra on the screen. My curiosity was piqued too.
In my previous life, I had not been able to attend the launch of the bra I designed. Now, watching it make its debut with my own eyes, I was no less moved than anyone else.
By the time the design director finished explaining its structure, everyone understood: this was an innovative bra designed above all to be easy to put on and take off.
Still — did this justify such a grand event?
Murmurs filled the hall. I stole a glance at Zach, who was studying the bra on the screen. I wanted to ask what he thought of its prospects as someone in the same industry, but for some reason my eyelid suddenly twitched.
At that moment the design director announced the next segment would be hosted by Mr. Bennett.
Heads turned to the stage.
Ethan Bennett strode onto the stage, tall and full of energy, yet completely composed.
I heard a few women behind me sigh, “So handsome!” I covered my mouth and gave a little laugh. Zach heard it and looked at me in puzzlement. Pretending not to notice, I turned my attention back to the stage.
Ethan looked refreshed — whatever fatigue he’d had at the hotel was gone. Even without a spotlight, he seemed to radiate light and drew everyone’s eyes.
After a brief greeting he began to speak.
“Before entering this hall, you walked through a thought-provoking corridor. The idea came from the women on our marketing team. They drew on their own experiences growing up, linking each stage to their choice of lingerie and showing the important role it plays throughout a woman’s life. I found the idea wonderful and deeply moving, and I believe the women here felt the same.”
“For the men, who may not share those experiences, walking the corridor will still make you think of the most important women in your lives.”
“Before entering you all answered a question. I wonder if the person you thought of is the same one I thought of.”
“That person is ‘The Woman I Love’.”
His opening carried the room with him. Ethan’s voice had a magnetic calmness — a mature man’s directness that inspired trust.
“Now, some data.”
He pointed to the screen, where a bar chart appeared, drawing a stir from the audience. A few designs had received scattered votes, but one result stood out above all the rest: option 0 had received by far the most votes.
“From this result it’s clear: choosing a suitable bra for ‘her’ among current products is not an easy task. From ‘her’ perspective, what’s needed isn’t cute, isn’t sexy — it’s comfort and ease of wear.”
“After our design director’s explanation, I think you can see the focus of this launch: lingerie that prioritizes easy on-and-off and skin-friendly comfort.”
“This product has a completely new design, new fabric, and new technology. More importantly, it is aimed at an entirely new group of consumers.”
"When I say 'entirely new consumer group,' it's because, until now, we've never paid attention to this group."
"As you can see, there are many types of lingerie. As a woman grows, she chooses different functions, materials, and styles at different stages of life. But for a long time we've overlooked one demographic: older women."
“Our research shows that, in the current lingerie market, older women have very limited options. To be frank, Belle Lingerie has historically ignored this group in our market research and product development.”
"That's wrong, but—"
Ethan paused briefly. “That oversight was partly due to some experiences in my own life.”
Ha!
Playing the sympathy card.
There was a ripple through the crowd. I saw Zach's mouth curl in that quick, dismissive way—scorn flashing and gone.
I remembered the online post I had read earlier. Zach and Ethan had grown up in similar circumstances; perhaps that was why Zach looked down on this tactic.
I looked at Ethan onstage and felt no discomfort with his approach.
No matter his motive, if saying this now helps make the launch a success and get the product out there, who cares whether he's playing the sympathy angle or something else?
Ethan was clever. He knew when a hint was enough, so he did not elaborate on his “personal experiences.”
He steered the topic back to the product itself.
“As you can see, our new product differs from traditional designs in two main ways.”
“First, it does not fasten at the back or pull on over the head. For some older women, even reaching behind to do up a clasp or pulling a bra over their head can be difficult, so we ruled out both designs.”
“Front-fastening bras are already familiar in our market. We chose a front closure too, but used a new clasp designed by a domestic studio that specializes in fastenings. Even people with limited hand dexterity can open and close it easily.”
“Second, we worked with a leading domestic textile factory to develop a new Class A fabric. It is absorbent and breathable, as well as exceptionally soft against the skin.”
“The most exciting thing about the fabric is that it can be infused with a choice of natural essential oils. We currently offer three versions. The lavender-infused fabric was the most popular in our company’s internal vote. Which consumers will prefer remains to be seen.”
Ethan's presentation continued, and every time he hit a key point the audience applauded.
Amid the enthusiastic applause, I heard Zach mutter, almost inaudibly, “This product won’t succeed.”
"How so?"
I couldn't help but speak up.
“Belle has never held back on high-end fabrics and fittings, because it targets customers at the luxury end of the market. Price is not an obstacle for them. The market for bras for middle-aged and older women has been difficult to develop because that group has less money to spend and less inclination to spend it.”
“The concept and design really are unprecedented. But Belle has kept its old habit of sparing no expense, and that creates a problem…”
"High cost equals high price."
"For their target consumers, buying a product at that price point is impossible."
Zach wore that smug, confident smile and shook his head. When he finished, he looked at me as if fishing for agreement.
I copied his head shake but stayed silent.
As if to answer Zach's prediction, Ethan wrapped up the product intro and shifted tone. "So, for a product with brand-new design, technology, and fabric, I know the question on everyone's mind is price."
“After everything we have said, I am sure you can see that Belle Lingerie has high hopes for this product. We believe it will be popular as soon as it goes on sale.”
"But back to our original intention—designing something suitable for older women—we have to consider their spending ability and willingness."
"After several rounds of pricing discussion, the final price we've set is—please look at the screen!"
Everyone turned to the screen. For a moment the room went completely quiet, then applause erupted.
I glanced at Zach again. For the first time, his brow creased; he looked genuinely incredulous. "No way. He's lost his mind."
When the clapping died down, Ethan announced, "39.90 yuan!"
"This is our final price."
“We have never offered anything at this price at Belle Lingerie before!”
"This product will be on shelves at major stores nationwide shortly. After today's launch we'll hold a small on-site sale. We brought two thousand pieces of this new product; anyone interested can participate afterward. Our sales, design, and R&D teams will be on hand to answer questions."
After the presentation ended, staff guided everyone to the area set up for the new-product sale.
I had planned to part ways with Zach there, but it was as though he knew what I was about to do. Before I could speak, he invited me to go along with him.
I steeled myself, returned his gesture of invitation, and walked ahead.
At the sale, people crowded around the booths and staff, handling the new product to check its quality and asking questions.
I saw many gathered around Ethan, including the persistent reporter who'd bothered me earlier.
"Mr. Bennett, you mentioned personal experience at the launch. Is your inspiration for this product related to your late mother?"
“I believe that as we grow older, our feelings for our mothers deepen. Although this product is designed for middle-aged and older women, I especially hope that you and I, as their sons and daughters, will be the ones to buy it.”
Ethan didn't directly answer the reporter, but he did respond in spirit.
I couldn't help smiling. Of course he'd be stubborn—he could have just fed the reporter a neat story, but he wouldn't lie. So he danced around it.
“Won’t this pricing affect Belle Lingerie’s brand positioning and revenue?”
“As I said at the launch, our original intention is to make a bra suitable for older women. If we price it so high that they can’t afford it, we betray that intention. As for Belle’s brand positioning—we’ve long been focused on high-end lingerie, but a company can’t abandon its social responsibility.”
The reporters kept firing questions from every direction. After listening for a while, I left the crowded circle.
At one of the booths, I chose the lavender-oil-infused style, going by what I remembered.
As I waited to pay, I heard two people talking quietly nearby. “With this fabric, this workmanship, and this price, if Belle keeps this up, other brands will have a hard time breaking into this market.”
“Funny, isn’t it? I heard Isa and Belle were discussing a takeover. Now, just a few days later, Belle makes a move like this. Looks like those rumors were false!”
"What rumor?"
“They said Ethan had no interest in running Belle anymore, wanted to dump it and wash his hands of past scandals. Haven’t you heard?”
“Shh! Keep it down—this place is full of Belle people. Let’s step outside.”
"Wait—I need to buy two for my mom."
"Alright, alright, I'll buy some too!"
"Excuse me? If this doesn't fit, can I exchange sizes?"
"Sir, if the item doesn't fit you can call our factory for an exchange or go to a store with stock and your purchase record. The product will be on shelves soon. Feel free to buy with confidence."
After buying two bras each, the pair left chatting and laughing. I paid after them and took the simply designed but well-made shopping bag. Looking toward Ethan, still surrounded by reporters, I felt a deep satisfaction. He had really done it.
He'd asked my opinion on pricing before.
I had told him about the time I’d gone with Martha to buy undergarments and shared my view.
In my previous life, I had donated this design. Perhaps because they had received it for free, the recipients had not put the same care into developing the product as Ethan had.
The addition of essential oils alone showed how much thought he had put into it. In that respect, he had even surpassed the version from my previous life, decades in the future.
Ethan had not explained this at the launch, but he had told me why he added the oils. He wanted to address the body odors some older people and long-term bedridden patients could experience. He felt perfume was not a practical solution for them, and that a light scent infused into the fabric would work better.
He'd also intentionally avoided big, flashy marketing about this to protect the dignity of those consumers.
Knowing how much had gone into the product, I could not help being moved that Ethan was willing to sell it at such a price.
The launch had gone smoothly and the sale was bustling. I had nothing left to regret. I turned to Zach. “Mr. Newman, thank you for getting me out of that awkward situation earlier. It looks as though everything is over here. I’m sorry, but I have something else to do, so I should be going.”
“If you’re not in a hurry, Ms. Lin, why don’t we have dinner together? There’s a restaurant nearby that makes excellent lamb chops.”
"But—"
“Oh, when you got out of my car that rainy day, you left a hair clip behind. It’s still at the hotel. After dinner, you can ride back with me and I can give it to you.”
Now that Zach had brought up his help on that rainy day, I felt it would be rude to refuse again.
The restaurant Zach chose really was lovely: elegant surroundings, an abundant selection of dishes, and, most importantly, excellent lamb chops.
I had assumed Zach was so determined to invite me to dinner because of what the reporter had said at the launch: Isa wanted to work with Lin Shujing.
Surprisingly, though, he never brought that up. Instead, he focused intently on the food.
“This Syrah comes from the northern Rhone Valley in France. It has high acidity and a smooth texture, along with rich floral, fruit, and spice aromas. It pairs wonderfully with these rich lamb chops. Do you like it, Ms. Lin?”
I took a cautious sip and agreed, but inwardly I was restless and anxious. I had messaged Lin Shujing to explain the situation and asked her to call as soon as she could so we could get our stories straight. I did not want to give myself away, and I had no idea whether she wanted to switch clients. The last thing I wanted was to ruin her livelihood by saying the wrong thing.
Zach clearly noticed my distraction. He set down his wineglass, clasped his hands, and gave a faint smile. “Ms. Lin, is something about having dinner with me making you uncomfortable?”
"Oh no, sorry. I'm just still a bit out of it from the press conference."
“Oh? Speaking of Belle Lingerie’s new line—what do you think of it?”
“Well, from a market perspective, it targets a particular segment of the lingerie market, with innovations in design, fabric, and workmanship. Beyond that, it pays attention to a group that is usually overlooked. Personally, I admire the product.”
Zach nodded, leaned back, and asked with a smile, “That’s a perceptive analysis. What did you major in at university, Ms. Lin?” I froze at the question.
His sudden question caught me off guard. I could almost feel cold sweat breaking out at the back of my neck. I could hardly claim I had forgotten something so basic.
"I…"
Right then, my phone in my bag rang.
I grabbed my clutch and stood up the instant I saw the caller ID. "Excuse me, Mr. Newman, I need to take this."
I hurried to a spot out of Zach’s sight and answered. “Thank goodness, your timing is perfect! First, tell me what degree you have and what you studied.”
On the other end, Lin Shujing paused, then laughed. “I thought this was an interview! I have a bachelor’s—aviation services. Why?”
"I'm having dinner with Zach Newman and he just asked me that out of nowhere. I freaked. Aviation services—that rings a bell…"
I searched my memory for anyone I had known in that field, but nothing came to me. “Never mind, I can’t remember. To get to the point, I heard Isa wanted to work with you. What do you think? Let’s compare notes so I don’t ruin anything for you.”
“Yes, they did approach me, but I turned him down. If he brings it up again, just refuse on my behalf.”
"Are you sure?"
“Yes. Mr. Bennett pays me a generous endorsement fee, and he was the one who recognized my potential. I couldn’t be so ungrateful.”
“All right. One more thing: how well do you know him? Could he see through the disguise?”
“Hardly at all. We’ve met privately only once, for less than five minutes. Every other time he has seen me, I’ve been on a runway or on television. I doubt he’ll be able to tell.”
Back at the table, I felt much calmer and more composed. Zach didn't pry further into personal stuff, so the rest of the meal passed pleasantly.
After dinner, before getting into Zach’s car, I called Lily Carter in front of him. I was careful not to say her name, but spoke loudly. “Sweetie, I said I’d come and see you today, didn’t I? I’ll be a little late. I’m riding with Mr. Newman to the hotel to pick something up, then I’ll come over.”
“Who’s Mr. Newman?” I repeated.
"Zach Newman," I replied. "Yes, I'll be there soon."
I hung up and gave Zach an apologetic smile. “Sorry, that was my best friend.”
Then I ducked my head and got into the car.
Zach was busy with work. His phone kept ringing throughout the drive, and now and then he rubbed his brow as he answered, as though it ached. After the fourth work call, he let out a long breath, put his phone away, and smiled at me. “Sorry, work matters.”
I nodded to show it was all right.
“Ms. Lin,” he began, “earlier I thought you displayed real market insight into lingerie. May I ask you a question?”
"Go ahead."
“Have you compared Belle Lingerie and Isa? In your view, what are their strengths and weaknesses?”
I thought for a moment. “I only know what I have read online about Belle and Isa, so my knowledge is far from complete. Both are positioned as accessible luxury, with very similar target customers and markets.”
“But in my view, the two brands have different priorities at heart.”
“How so?” Zach asked, tilting his head slightly toward me.
“Both aim at accessible luxury, but Belle uses careful craftsmanship and years of accumulated data to make lingerie that fits better and meets customers’ everyday needs. It avoids excessive decoration. Isa aims for extreme glamour, emphasizing sensuality and allure. One other point is that Isa’s designs make greater demands on the wearer’s figure.”
He murmured, "Extreme glamour…"
“Mr. Summers used to say that too,” Zach added.
I understood at once whom he meant. He seemed lost in memory, and only then did I remember that he had drunk almost a whole bottle of wine by himself.
“When Mr. Summers was alive, he was always telling me I didn’t understand lingerie. He said I made it so ornate that it looked tacky.” A slightly drunken smile lifted his lips. “He always said people had to come first, that comfort was the most basic requirement. He compared me with Ethan and said my judgment wasn’t as good. Ethan learned to make lingerie from the factory workers. I studied design at university specifically because I wanted Mr. Summers to think more highly of me.”
"Still, he looked down on me."
"I don't think Mr. Summers looked down on you," I began to comfort him, but he cut me off.
“He always said that chasing luxury meant forgetting my roots. What’s wrong with forgetting a background like mine? Ethan, now… he hasn’t forgotten his roots…” Zach sounded drunker, though he was still perfectly conscious. He turned toward the window and ignored me, saying nothing more before we got out of the car.
At the hotel, I learned that Zach was staying on the eighth floor. Saying I was in a hurry to see my friend, I insisted on waiting in the lobby for him to bring down the hair clip. He accepted this and let his driver help him into the elevator.
A little later, the driver returned looking apologetic. “Ms. Lin, I’m sorry. Mr. Newman fell asleep as soon as we got upstairs, before I could ask where the hair clip was. He hasn’t had much rest these past few days, and he had some wine today. I hope you’ll understand.”
“That’s all right,” I said, waving it off. The driver asked, “Could you give me your room number? Once Mr. Newman wakes up and we find the hair clip, we can bring it to you.”
"No need. Next time." I smiled and declined. "I have to go—thanks."
“I can drive you to your friend’s place if you would like, Ms. Lin.”
"Thanks, but no; please look after Mr. Newman. I already asked the front desk to call a car. It should be here soon."
At the hospital, Lily came out to meet me.
“Why are you waiting out here? Where’s Noah?” I asked.
“He’s asleep. The nanny I hired has arrived and is watching him inside. Never mind that, though. What happened? How did you end up with Zach Newman?”
Once I explained what had happened, Lily understood. “Good thing I caught on quickly. When I heard you were with him, I was worried.”
"Nervous about what?"
"You don't know him—he's weird."
She looked as though she did not quite know how to explain. “Let’s talk as we walk.”
We headed toward the garden while chatting.
"What's weird about him?" I asked.
“Well, how can I put it? Petty, perhaps. He seems terrified of being looked down on. When we all worked at Belle, he was always comparing himself with Ethan. They came from similar backgrounds, so you would think they could understand each other and be friends. But he always had to outdo Ethan. Privately, everyone thought he was arrogant, with a strange sense of superiority. Especially after he got into a prestigious university, he hardly gave the rest of us a second glance.”
“It wasn’t just us. Mr. Summers used to call him out too.
“I remember one year, at a company meeting, Mr. Summers criticized him by name. Zach had argued that Belle should become a high-luxury brand, saying only rich people deserved better products. To build that image, he said, the brand had to raise the price of entry and filter out customers with less money to spend. Mr. Summers was furious.”
“Wouldn’t that have made trouble for him? Surely the people he worked with would have shut him out?”
"Not everyone was completely against it.
“To be fair, Ethan agreed with some of his ideas. Otherwise Belle would not be what it is today. Its prices do put it out of reach for some ordinary customers.
“But that only happened in the last two years. Perhaps the timing wasn’t right back then. I don’t really understand it myself.”
"So he and Ethan should've had a lot in common."
“In theory, yes. Yet he really disliked Ethan. To be precise, he was pretty aloof at the factory — looked down on everyone. Still, Isabelle Summers was close to him.”
“Oh?”
“He looked down on us, but he was close to Isabelle. The Summers family had done so much for him, so he was close to all of them. Isabelle’s mother was fond of him too. I don’t think Mr. Summers disliked him; he was frustrated that Zach wasn’t living up to his potential.
“Otherwise, why would he give someone who wasn’t even related to him food and a place to live, pay for his education, and give him a job? Don’t you think?”
I felt a pang of melancholy, thinking of Zach’s expression when he mentioned Mr. Summers. Could Zach really not understand such a simple thing?
“You said he was close to Isabelle?”
I asked.
“Yeah. Back then a lot of people at the factory thought they were a couple, but I know Isabelle actually liked Ethan.”
"How so?"
“You don’t know what Isabelle was like. She had a spoiled heiress’s temper and could be quite overbearing. She treated Zach only a little better than the rest of us, but with Ethan she was all shy and ladylike. Wasn’t it obvious? Zach was often with her, but I think she only saw him as a friend, a close male friend.”
I nodded, keeping my silence.
"Anyway, never mind them. In a few days, Noah will be discharged. I want to throw him a small party at home. Could you bring Hazel?"
"No problem. She’s been cooped up in the hotel and going stir-crazy."
“If you don’t mind, I’d also like to invite Dr. Lewis and the little boy he looks after. Would that be all right?”
I thought for a moment and said fine.
“Speaking of Dr. Lewis…” Lily glanced at me cautiously. “He has looked rather worn out lately. I saw him yesterday. Between work, coming here to care for that woman, and the child at home, he has so much to do.”
“Honestly, I don’t think he has romantic feelings for her. He takes good care of her, but it doesn’t seem like affection. Do you know what I mean? There just isn’t that feeling between them.
“And Dr. Lewis always seems so lonely. I feel a little sorry for him.”
When I didn’t reply, she paused, stepped in front of me and, mustering courage, said, "I told you before I was willing to step aside for you and Ethan because I knew how he felt about you. But after spending time around you, I’m not sure you feel the same about him."
"If you like Ethan, I’ll step back. But if you like Dr. Lewis, I’ll support you. Do you understand?"
Her voice was earnest, her clear eyes fixed on me.
I sighed. "I don’t like Ethan, but—"
"I also can’t be with Dr. Lewis."
"Why?"
The voice behind us startled Lily and me. We turned in alarm and saw Rose sitting in her wheelchair. She looked at me with the same haughty gaze as ever.
After a beat, Lily scolded, "Why were you eavesdropping?"
Rose didn’t bother to answer Lily’s rebuke. "What do you mean you can’t like Dr. Lewis?"
Angrier still at being ignored, Lily snapped, “Plenty of doctors have the surname Lewis. Who said we meant Mark? Why are you so desperate to get involved?”
Rose caught the double meaning in Lily’s jab and looked a little unsettled.
Lily, sensing victory, readied another strike, but I grabbed her arm.
“Ms. Rowan, we have other things to attend to. Excuse us.”
I knew Rose was deeply prejudiced against me and did not want an argument. Taking Lily by the arm, I turned to leave.
"You know you’re the other woman with an illegitimate child. You’re not entitled to like Dr. Lewis! So why do you keep pestering him?"
Rose’s disdainful voice stopped us cold. Lily spun around, furious, pointing at Rose. "You want me to flip your wheelchair? Don’t think I’ll go easy on you just because you can’t walk!"
Rose held her head high and met our eyes without backing down.
"Lily, go check on Noah. I’ll be there in a minute."
Hearing me, Lily shot Rose a glare then left.
“Ms. Rowan, I can answer what you asked. But first, what gives you the right to question me?”
Rose, who had been so fierce, suddenly deflated and glanced away. "I…none of your business!"
"Then my life is none of your business either."
I didn’t back down.
“I’m… I’m Mark’s friend!
“And someone as scheming as you…”
I cut her off. “Ms. Rowan, because you are Mark’s friend, I have never spoken harshly to you. Nor have I done the things you accuse me of. If you insist on speaking to me this way, I have no reason to stay here listening to your insults or answering your questions.”
I looked at her without expression. Her unfinished words seemed to stick in her throat. She stiffened, and even her ears turned red.
After a long moment she swallowed and lost her haughtiness. "What do you mean you can’t like Dr. Lewis?"
“Ms. Rowan, how are your legs?”
"What?"
“As a doctor, you know better than I do how important it is to have healthy legs. Perhaps I’m wrong, but I’ve wondered: do you think that as long as your legs haven’t healed, Dr. Lewis will stay with you to take care of you?”
Rose’s face flushed deeper, as if I’d hit a nerve.
"In other words, is Dr. Lewis more important to you than your medical career?"
Rose’s eyes darted away, uncomfortable. "So what if he is?"
I gave a short laugh. “If Dr. Lewis matters more to you than your career, why can’t you accept even little Daniel as part of his life?”
Mentioning Daniel seemed to give Rose a way to strike back. "It’s not that I can’t tolerate him — he doesn’t like me!"
“Children are sensitive,” I said, rejecting that excuse. “They can tell whether someone truly likes them. And I know Daniel. He isn’t a child who makes trouble for no reason.”
"What are you getting at?"
Rose tossed her head impatiently. “Are you saying all this just to boast that Daniel likes you, and that’s why you’ve won Mark’s heart?”
“No.” I gave a small smile. “I mean that Daniel matters more to me than Mark does.”
"What?"
For the first time, Rose’s voice held no defiance or pride, only genuine surprise.
“I once knew a young woman who was in love with her childhood friend. He did not love her back. Later, at university, he met the woman he fell in love with. The first young woman could not bear it. She tried all kinds of things, but she could not separate him from his girlfriend.”
Rose looked puzzled, but I went on. “Back then, I did not understand what that young man meant to her. I took it for granted that everyone should love themselves most of all, that our interests, our work, and our own lives were precious. I did not realize that, in a life so lacking in warmth and care, he meant almost everything to her. By the time I understood, it was too late.”
Rose asked hesitantly, "What happened to her?"
"On the day he married, she jumped off a building and killed herself in front of him."
Even as I looked at Rose, my thoughts were on someone else.
“I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” Rose said, still puzzled despite her shock.
“When I heard that you had run out of Mark’s home and been in a car accident, I kept thinking about that young woman. I thought that if someone as proud as you could do such a thing for a man, he must mean a great deal to you.”
“So I sincerely hoped that this might bring you Mark’s love. I had often wondered whether that young man would have made a different choice if he had known he mattered more to her than her own life.”
"But seeing Dr. Lewis lately, so exhausted and worn, I realized something else —"
"Love is love. When anything else gets mixed in, it wears people down. Especially when someone is asked to bear a burden as heavy as another person’s life."
“If I still haven’t made myself clear, Ms. Rowan, let me ask you this: has his care for you during this time gone beyond friendship, as you hoped?”
Her face fell. She did not answer, but her silence was answer enough. Still proud, she refused to give in. “How do I know you haven’t made this up to fool me? You’ve gone round in circles and still haven’t answered my question. What does any of this have to do with Daniel?”
“And what does it have to do with whether you like Mark?”
I let out a long sigh. “The young woman I mentioned was Hazel Bennett. The man she loved was Daniel Lewis. And the woman Daniel fell in love with…”
“…was me.”
"What are you… saying?"
Rose Rowan’s eyes went wide, shock and disbelief written over her beautiful face.
I was calm inside and began to explain, quietly, the whole story of my past life and how I’d ended up here.
Rose's expression never lost that stunned disbelief, but her manner toward me gradually softened.
Only after I had told her everything about my experiences and what I hoped to do did she seem to remember something. In a dazed voice she said, “There’s something I should tell you. That day, when I ran out of Mark’s home and he followed me, I saw a car coming. He hadn’t seen it. Without thinking, I threw myself toward him. That’s how…”
I hadn't expected that reason. I felt both relieved and ashamed at once. "I'm sorry. I misunderstood you."
“No, no, no!” Rose hurriedly waved her hand. “It’s nothing. It’s just that my parents aren’t from here, and I didn’t want to worry them or make trouble for them, so… I used the chance to have Mark take care of me.”
"I understand," I said softly.
"Then… Lin…" Rose hesitated, like she couldn't decide how to address me.
"Call me Claire. I'm used to it."
I smiled.
"Claire, I get what you mean. I'll think about it," Rose said, embarrassed. "Actually my leg wasn't badly injured. It's almost healed."
…
The Belle Lingerie launch was a huge success. Local mainstream media all ran special segments on the line—underwear designed specifically for middle-aged and older women. Newspapers and TV stations offered to help spread the story.
After the turmoil around Isabelle Summers’ death, Belle Lingerie’s reputation among consumers shot back up.
Posts kept appearing online, applauding Ethan for his wisdom and compassion. Some dismissed them as paid promotion, but those doubts were soon drowned out by the praise.
Then a male user wrote a post that changed the conversation. He said his wife had been hospitalized for six months and spent a lot of time lying still. Her usual bras were uncomfortable, and when she didn't wear any, she felt sloppy.
She was meticulous about her appearance—even in the hospital she brushed her hair and kept herself presentable—except that her underwear had been a problem.
To make his wife feel better, the man got into the habit of glancing at lingerie shops when he passed them. That habit led him to Belle’s new product.
The man bought a bra in each of two essential-oil versions. When his wife saw the Belle label, she chided him for spending too much. He told her the pair had cost less than a hundred yuan, but she thought he was only saying that to cheer her up.
In his post he wrote, "My wife no longer worries about this. I can't cure her, but making her a little happier gives me more confidence. My wife will get better. We'll be okay."
That post thrust Belle Lingerie’s new product into the spotlight. Many praised the product as not only a blessing for older women but also for patients who felt they had lost their dignity while sick.
Some people thought the unusual target market and pricing hinted at a tribute to Isabelle Summers. More and more agreed, and some even suggested that Belle’s earlier change of direction and the new product were Ethan’s quiet way of expressing his feelings for her.
Belle’s reputation improved, and its sales rose by the day. Soon it had overcome the harm done by the earlier hostile posts.
Ethan's other businesses benefited as well.
When Ethan called with the good news, I was at the hotel packing my belongings and Hazel’s. She was solemnly organizing her toy box as though it were very important work.
"Mm, congratulations," I said, folding Hazel's little dress into the suitcase.
“I’ll come over tonight. Let’s have dinner to celebrate,” Ethan said, unable to hide his pleasure.
“All right. Bring the IOU and the custody agreement with you. The originals, please.”
"What?"
"Don't play dumb. We agreed: once my design is used, those two things are mine."
There was a long silence on the line before he finally answered, "Fine."
I ended the call and was about to set my phone on the coffee table when a text arrived. “Sweetie, I’m all finished here. I’ll be back soon!” It was Lin Shujing.
By the time Ethan arrived at the hotel, I had already set dinner out.
Our luggage was packed. He scanned the room without speaking.
He draped his suit jacket over the sofa, set the folder on the table, and sat down.
I sat across from him, Hazel between us.
"Why do you insist on having those things?" Ethan asked.
"For freedom. I've told you several times," I said, glancing at the folder on the table. "And per our agreement, those two items belong to me."
He lowered his eyes, then quickly looked up again. “Is this because of that man, Lewis?”
I knew he still had misconceptions, and explaining would be pointless. In some ways he wasn't wrong, so I nodded.
Hazel sensed that something was wrong between us, but she did not understand what we were discussing. “Mommy, Daddy, I’m hungry. Can we eat?” she said quietly.
I stroked her head reassuringly. “Shall we eat together, then?”
She nodded obediently, picked up her little spoon and fork, and began eating her egg custard.
I held out my left hand to Ethan and glanced meaningfully at the folder.
Ethan's face darkened, but he pushed the folder toward me.
I checked the documents in front of him to make sure they were in order. Happy, I said, "Let's eat!"
He didn't speak, didn’t refuse—just picked up his cutlery and slowly began cutting his lamb chops.
“Lily wants to throw a party for Noah. Are you going?” I asked between bites.
"Depends on timing," he said.
"Okay." I cut a small piece of lamb and put it on Hazel's plate. She gave me a sweet smile.
“It isn’t easy for Lily, raising Noah on her own,” I went on. “You should take more care of them. You’re his father, but you’ve got it easier than a boss who leaves all the work to others. That’s hardly right, is it?”
“What about you? You’re raising our daughter on your own too. If I have to make amends, why shouldn’t it be you and me?” Ethan sounded as though he were discussing a business plan. I could even hear a certain earnestness, as if he genuinely wanted an answer.
"I'm different."
"In what way?"
"She still loves you."
I met his eyes frankly, hoping he would fully understand what I meant. Lily still loved him. Only she did.
Ethan shot me a peculiar glance; I ignored it and continued. "Besides, living alone—where does that lead? Lily waited for you for so many years and suffered alone. Why should she?"
“You have to learn to seek happiness. Otherwise, life is too bitter,” I continued.
“Lily has parents who love her, she has your son, and she still loves you. Ethan, isn’t all of that happiness within your reach?”
"You don't understand what happened between us…" Ethan said.
“I know. But it was a terrible chain of circumstances. What else could she have done? It isn’t as though she never thought of turning herself in. But without evidence to prove what happened, what would that achieve? From the moment it happened, it was already a sentence hanging over her. You will both carry the guilt for the rest of your lives. Isn’t that enough?”
He was silent for a long time. At last he said, “I’ll handle my own affairs.”
I knew any more urging would be useless and focused on my meal.
After finishing her egg custard and lamb, Hazel picked up an egg pastry and took a bite. As though she had made a great discovery, she exclaimed, “Mommy, today’s egg pastries are savory! That’s the kind you like!”
I picked one up, tasted it, and smiled at Hazel. "It's savory. Tasty."
"Hazel likes sweet. Mom likes savory!" she announced proudly.
"You used to love sweets," Ethan said out of nowhere.
After that he set down his cutlery, patted Hazel's head without looking at me, said, "I have something to do. I have to go," and left.
The door had barely closed when Hazel asked softly, "Mom…"
"Mm?"
"I love Dad, but I love Mom more."
I pulled her into my arms and murmured, gentle and low, "That's enough."
After Hazel and I moved back home, I resumed taking her to kindergarten and picking her up every day.
I also searched online for information about home-care products for older people in this era. To my delight, the market seemed virtually untapped.
Excited, I worked almost day and night to learn about the suppliers, manufacturers, and other businesses that could be involved. I also paid a professional research team to study the market’s prospects and potential customers, to see whether the products would meet a real demand.
While I was waiting for the results, a minor story appeared online and caused a little trouble for Lin Shujing and me.
After returning, Lin Shujing had checked back into Room 1820 at the Grand Meridian.
Unfortunately, she ran into Zach Newman while dining in the hotel restaurant.
When Zach saw her, he handed her the hair clip.
She did not understand at first, but immediately guessed it might have something to do with me. Without showing her confusion, she accepted it and exchanged a few polite words with him.
Someone photographed that chance encounter and posted the pictures of them talking online. Soon rumors resurfaced that Lin Shujing would leave her role as Belle’s spokesperson to work with Isa.
A small media outlet then published pictures of me with Zach at the Belle launch, at dinner, and getting into his car. They quickly attracted millions of views.
Many comments hinted at a secret romance between Lin Shujing and Zach.
The photos reminded me of the persistent reporter and camera operator at the launch.
But what good did knowing that do?
All I could do was call Lin Shujing, tell her what had happened that day, and apologize over and over.
Luckily she wasn’t bothered. She actually comforted me and said her manager had already worked out a PR statement with Belle Lingerie’s team.
“Don’t worry, it’s nothing. You don’t need to stress,” Lin Shujing said on the phone. “By the way, when should I give you the hair clip?”
“When are you free?” I asked. “I’ll come pick it up.”
“Let’s do Sunday. I’m bringing little Yvette over—she wants to play with Hazel.”
“Sunday? Hmm… Lily is having a party for her son that day. I’ll ask whether we can bring two more guests. Would that work for you?”
“Sure, no problem. Just tell me ahead of time.”
I told Lily, and she gladly agreed—she even got excited and suggested a small costume party for the kids since they’d all be together.
I passed that on to Lin Shujing, and she sounded eager too.
After I hung up, quiet settled back in.
So much had happened lately that I often felt like I was walking through a thick fog, something dangerous hiding in it. A few times I’d thought I was close to it, but it always vanished in a blink. Now that same sense of danger rose again.
I clicked my tongue, stood, and paced the living room, trying to pin down the feeling.
I had not always been so insecure. That had changed when Hazel died in my previous life. From that moment, I understood how unpredictable life could be, and I became prone to anxiety.
Ever since I had woken up in Claire Sutton’s body, one problem had followed another. Only now did I realize that those troubles and difficult choices had kept my anxiety at bay. As I gradually accepted my new identity and life, that anxiety was returning.
Was I overthinking?
I looked out the living room window and was startled by the front door opening—Martha had come back from shopping.
She changed shoes while chattering about what was fresh at the market and what had gone up in price. I only gave a few faint replies.
She did not notice my low mood and kept talking. “On the way back, I saw an ad at the bus stop for that bra you gave me. While I was waiting, I heard a mother and daughter talking. The daughter wanted to take her mother to the shop. I almost went over to tell them I was wearing one, and how good it was…”
I smiled at last. “You’re a walking advertisement for Belle, Martha. You’ll have everyone buying them!”
I had brought back two bras from the launch for Martha. Ever since trying them, she had been full of praise, recommending them to every older woman in our apartment complex. Even the women she regularly bought vegetables from at the market had not escaped her sales pitch.
“Well, I can’t help it. We women wear these things every day of our lives. We still need to care about our appearance when we get older, don’t we?” With that, she went into the kitchen to prepare dinner.
I had some time, so I sat back down on the sofa and took out my phone.
I opened the browser and entered a few search terms. Among the news results were those pictures supposedly showing Lin Shujing with Zach, though the woman in them was actually me. The venue had been dim, and I had worn sunglasses. Looking at the photos, it really was hard to tell.
I tapped one picture—Zach politely opening a car door for me. The photographer had been far away; the image was a little blurry.
I frowned. Why did this scene seem so familiar? Thump, thump, thump, thump!
A rhythmic knocking came from the kitchen—Martha tapping something.
A girl’s voice echoed in my head. “I heard Hazel’s mother couldn’t win Ethan’s favor, so she went off with another man. She cheated on him!”
It was the voice from the dream I had while keeping Lily company at the hospital.
“How does that saying go? ‘Wreck someone else’s home, and someone will wreck yours!’”
“Someone will wreck yours! Ha!”
My younger self had grabbed a book and struck it against the bed frame, unable to stand their mockery any longer. Thump, thump, thump, thump! Now I remembered what the girl had said, half drowned out by the knocking: “I heard it was that famous Zach Newman!”
I broke out in a cold sweat. My whole body froze.
At that moment my phone lit up with a call from an unknown number. My fingers trembled as I answered.
“Hello, is this… Claire Sutton?”
The voice sounded unsure. “I’m Rose Rowan.”
Of course—Rose. I let out a small breath.
“Yes, it’s me.”
“I saw some photos online today, supposedly of Lin Shujing and Zach. But in some of them, she’s wearing the outfit you wore when you came to the hospital. I wondered… could that be you?”
“Yes. That was me.”
Her question struck me as odd—why would she ask that? Had she misunderstood something?
“What is it?” I asked. Rose sounded hesitant. “I’ve seen that man, Zach Newman, before.”
At her words, I almost dropped the phone. Zach? Why did it always come back to him?
“Where?”
“In the hospital, in Isabelle Summers’s ward.”
She hurriedly added, “I just thought it was strange and wanted to tell you.”
“What was strange?”
I remembered Lily saying that Isabelle and Zach had been close, so a visit would have been only natural. Then I remembered that Rose did not know about their friendship.
“What I mean is, people online say Zach once had feelings for Isabelle Summers—do you know about that?”
“Sort of. I’d heard.”
“If the person you loved married your rival, would you try to get close to the person your rival loved?”
Her question jolted me. If Claire really had had an affair with Zach in my previous life, perhaps he had done it to get revenge on Ethan. But when Zach approached me, I was pretending to be Lin Shujing. How did that fit?
Wait. Out of all the models he could choose, why seek out Belle’s ambassador? Wasn’t that strange in itself?
Could he have realized Lin Shujing and I were different people?
What did he want?
My mind raced through so many possibilities that I felt dizzy, but I knew I had to stay calm. “Did he visit Isabelle often? I heard she wasn’t in a good state of mind.”
“I only saw him there once, but I remember it clearly. Isabelle had seemed quite well that day, but by the time Zach left, she was agitated again. The nurses and I spent a long time calming her down.”
“Do you remember the date?” I asked.
Rose thought for a bit but could only recall roughly. I didn’t tell her about the memory that had flashed back; I just reassured her not to worry if she couldn’t be exact.
Rose had sensed something strange about Zach, but as far as she knew, nothing seemed to have come of it. She urged me once more to be careful around him, then let the subject of him and Isabelle drop.
“Thank you for warning me. If I need to, I’ll ask Ethan to help me find out more,” I said. Then I asked, “How is your leg?”
She laughed brightly. “I’m back at work—walking fine! Oh, by the way, have you seen him lately?”
My heart skipped a beat, and my answer came a moment late. “I saw him last night when I went to pick up Daniel. He left before we had said hello.”
“Have you thought about telling him?”
I was taken aback but answered honestly, “No.”
We fell silent again. Then I understood: she probably hoped I would tell Mark what I had told her. Perhaps then his feelings toward me… “I’ll tell him when the time is right,” I said softly.
The next day, when I picked Hazel up from kindergarten, Daniel came home with us. The children ate dinner and played, but there was still no word from Mark.
When the children could barely keep their eyes open, I gave them each a bath and put them to bed.
I sat by Hazel’s small bed and watched their peaceful faces. I sighed and drifted into thought.
Could the choices I made now keep the two of you from reliving the tragedies of my previous life? If they could, what would it matter if I gave up everything I had now?
I had already lived past sixty. If this life of mine needed a meaning, then surely the two of you were its greatest meaning. Weren’t you?
A soft knock drew me out of my thoughts. I rose quickly and left the room. Through the peephole I saw Mark, and I gently opened the door.
“You’re off work?”
“Yeah. Where’s Daniel?”
“He’s asleep in Hazel’s room. I’ll go and get…”
I had been about to offer to carry Daniel out, but suddenly remembered that evening at Mark’s home. I hastily corrected myself. “You go and get him.”
"Can I stay a bit?"
Mark’s voice was a little hoarse. “I’d like a glass of water.”
For some reason I felt flustered, almost clumsy as I let him into the apartment.
I poured a cup of warm water and set it in front of him, hesitated, then slowly sat across from him.
In a silence like that, two people looking at each other felt almost intimate, but I couldn't think of anything to say.
"Rose was discharged."
He drank half the glass in one breath and said it out of nowhere.
"Yeah, I know."
I answered quickly. “We’ve spoken on the phone.”
Another silence fell. I cleared my throat and tried again. “You and Ms. Rowan…”
He cut me off. "There is nothing between me and her."
My mouth hung open and I couldn't think of how to respond.
"I've done a lot of thinking lately."
He drank the remaining water in one gulp. “That day, when I went after her, I didn’t see the car coming. She rushed forward and pushed me out of the way.”
"In that moment… I won't lie, I was moved."
“While I was caring for her at the hospital, I tried to see her as a woman I could fall in love with. But I found that I could care for her as a brother would, or as a friend, just not as a boyfriend.”
"I felt ridiculous when I realized that."
As he said it, one corner of his mouth lifted in a faint, wry smile.
His smile touched me and I froze.
“I couldn’t force myself to love her against my own feelings. The more I thought about it, the more certain I became of how I felt about you. But then I realized that I hadn’t done a single thing for you.”
He raised his eyes and looked straight at me. “I haven’t done anything for you.”
I wanted to tell him not to be so hard on himself, but would that just be encouraging him?
“I kept thinking about it. I hadn’t done anything for you because I didn’t know how you felt about me. I didn’t know how things stood between you and Ethan, or whether you had concerns because of Hazel. If I acted rashly, would I only make things difficult for you? I didn’t know.”
I couldn't meet his eyes and let my gaze fall to his shoulder. His shoulders sagged, and my heart dropped with them.
"I don't have parents. I grew up in an orphanage. When I was sick as a child, I would see kids whose parents took them to the hospital and think how lucky they were. So when I grew up, I chose to work in a children's hospital."
"My salary isn't high now, but it will increase."
“The home I live in was left to Daniel by his parents. I’m saving up to buy a place of my own.”
“After Daniel’s parents died, I promised his maternal grandparents I would raise him as my own son. So in a way, he is my child too.”
"That's everything about me."
“I’ve told you all of it because there’s only one answer I want from you.”
"Is there anything I can do for you?"
He spoke quietly and matter-of-factly, as though he were reading the information leaflet for a medicine.
Having read it out, he seemed to be asking whether that medicine was what I needed.
I stared at him, a hollow echo swelling in my chest: to you, am I the patient or the doctor?
“Mark.”
I spoke his name softly. The young man before me looked back with calm, gentle eyes, clear as water.
"Don't do anything for me."
The words finally left my mouth, and I watched the light in his eyes dim.
“If there really is one thing I ask of you, please…”
“Live a happy life.”
Something flickered in his eyes. He didn't know what I meant. He had no idea what fate awaited him in the life I remembered. He knew nothing at all!
How I wanted to tell him I wanted his happiness more than anyone, that I wanted him to have a full, happy life. But I knew those words would only sound like a cold refusal to him.
Should I tell him? How?
What good would it do for someone to know in advance that their life would end lonely and tragic?
I looked at him with confusion, anxiety, and a pain I couldn't hide.
What would he choose? To accept fate, or—
“Mark, listen. I’m not Cl—”
Knock knock knock!
A rapid knocking at the door cut me off.
"Who is it?"
I jumped, momentarily stunned, but Mark immediately stood and went to the door.
"It's me."
The voice outside was low and muffled, as though its owner was deliberately keeping it down.
I followed behind Mark. He peered through the peephole and whispered to me, “Ethan. Should I open the door?”
I nodded.
Mark raised his eyebrows slightly, then opened the door without another word.
Ethan stood there in black, a little surprised. "What are you doing here?"
“He came to pick up Daniel.”
I answered before Mark could.
Ethan ignored my explanation and fixed his gaze on Mark.
Mark met his stare without flinching. At my quiet cough, he pressed his lips together. “I’ll go and carry Daniel out.”
He went back inside.
"What are you doing here? At this hour?"
I stood in the doorway, not planning to invite Ethan in.
"I have two things to tell you."
Ethan ignored my reluctance. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”
Just then, Mark returned to the door with Daniel wrapped in his coat. The little boy slept peacefully against his shoulder.
"I'm leaving. Thank you for taking care of him."
Mark spoke to me.
"Yeah, be careful."
As I spoke, I reached out and tucked the coat more securely around Daniel.
Before I could draw my hand back, Ethan seized it. I had no time to react before he addressed Mark in a displeased voice. “Sorry, Dr. Lewis. My daughter’s mother and I still have something to discuss, so I won’t see you out.”
Mark ignored the provocation and simply nodded to me. This seemed to anger Ethan even more. Losing his composure, he said, “If you can’t look after a child on your own, perhaps you should hire a nanny. Though I wonder whether a doctor’s income can stretch to that. If…”
"What are you talking about?!"
I interrupted him, angry. “I’m happy to take care of Daniel. What’s it to you?”
Ethan fell silent at my rebuke. Mark’s eyelids flickered, and he suddenly spoke. “Thank you for your concern, Mr. Bennett. I really can’t afford a nanny on my current income, so I have to trouble Claire for help.”
He gave me a faint smile. “How about shrimp and egg custard for breakfast tomorrow? Daniel said today that he wanted some.”
Without thinking, I agreed. Only after Mark’s figure disappeared into the elevator did his words sink in—he meant he’d come in the morning too?
There wasn't time to ask. Ethan blocked the doorway, scowling. "Can I come in or not?"
He didn't wait for my answer and pushed past me into the apartment.
"You said you had two things. What are they?"
I shut the door and followed him into the living room.
"I'm hungry. Is there anything to eat?"
Ethan avoided the question, his voice turning almost wheedling. “I haven’t eaten for nearly a whole day.”
“Then tell me what you came to say, and go and eat at a restaurant.”
I was eager to get him out.
"I'm too weak to go to a restaurant."
He flopped onto the sofa like a sulky kid. His stomach obliged with a perfectly timed grumble.
I sighed. "Noodles okay?"
"Mm."
A sly smile tugged at his mouth. "With big shrimp."
I rolled my eyes. "Two drops of soy sauce will do."
The noodles were soon ready. There were no shrimp, but I had added an egg. He did not complain. He really did add just two drops of soy sauce before slurping down the noodles.
After the last mouthful of broth, he sighed contentedly, set down the bowl, and said, “We’ve found the people who kept posting those smears about me online, and we have all the evidence. We started with the photos Lin Shujing took of those people at the hotel. Following the clues in the photos and the information we gathered, we found witnesses and physical evidence.”
I was puzzled. "That's good news, but why tell me? Why not hand it to the police or sue?"
"Aren't you curious who it is?"
Ethan asked with interest.
"Who?"
I played along.
"You won't know them."
He smirked.
"Then don't tell me."
I was irritated—coming here late at night just to tease me?
“All right, all right, I’m sorry,” Ethan said quickly. “It wasn’t just one person posting the smears. There’s a small group. You really don’t know them, but you do know the person behind them.”
As soon as he said that, I guessed. "Zach Newman?"
He raised an eyebrow. "You guessed that fast?"
"Is it really him? What are you going to do?"
“Of course I’ll go after him. But this alone won’t be enough of a blow. The second thing is what can really hurt him.”
Ethan grew serious, and even I started to tense up.
“After you told me on the phone yesterday that Zach Newman had visited Isabelle in the hospital, I went through all the recordings from around the time you mentioned.”
"Footage? What footage?"
I was puzzled.
"It's a long story."
He cleared his throat. “In short, I had a camera installed in Isabelle’s hospital room.”
“You?” I was shocked. “Surely that isn’t allowed? How could you do that without permission?”
He pressed his lips together as though reluctant to explain. After a moment he seemed to make up his mind. “During those years in the hospital, her mental state was unstable. Sometimes she seemed… well, she would have episodes. The hospital wanted to assess her mental health. I knew that being diagnosed with a mental illness would be a terrible torment for her.”
“Especially for someone as proud as she was. Besides, when she was lucid, she seemed completely normal. So I paid a great deal to keep her in a general hospital.”
"I rarely visited—partly because of work, but also because I couldn't face her."
“Then, on one visit, she kept muttering that someone wanted to hurt her. She didn’t seem quite herself, but it didn’t sound as though she was simply talking nonsense.”
"I was worried someone might try something, so I secretly had a camera installed in her room."
He looked up at me cautiously when he finished. "I know that was wrong. After she passed, I removed the camera."
I listened silently, unwilling to pass judgment on what he had done.
"I brought the equipment back and shelved it. Then yesterday, when you mentioned Zach Newman, I decided to pull the recordings out."
"You know what I saw?" he suddenly asked.
The question caught me off guard. At some point Ethan’s eyes had reddened. My heart sank, and deeply unsettling images rose in my mind.
He set a hard drive on the table. I got the laptop and closed the door to Hazel Bennett's room. Ethan clicked play.
The camera pointed straight at Isabelle’s bed. Isabelle sat propped up, looking calm, even cheerful.
In the recording, she let her hair fall over one shoulder and gently smoothed it with both hands before beginning to braid it. She even seemed to be humming softly. Everything was so still and peaceful that I found myself staring.
The peaceful scene continued for about two minutes. Then, off camera, came the sound of the door opening.
Within half a minute, a man came into the room.
Isabelle looked up at the sound. At first she seemed puzzled by her visitor. A full four or five minutes passed before she began to murmur, dazedly, “New… New…”
“Isabelle,” Zach Newman called from the foot of the bed, his back to the camera. “It’s me, Zach.”
“Zach… Newman… Zach Newman…” Isabelle repeated.
Her voice grew clearer with each repetition, like someone piecing a memory back together.
"Do you remember me?" Zach asked.
Isabelle didn’t answer directly. “Why are you here?”
In an instant, her voice turned cold and calm. Was there even a trace of fear?
"I…" Zach's head tilted slightly, as if weighing words. "I heard you'd been improving… so I came to see you. After all—"
"What are you here for?"
Isabelle’s gaze grew more wary. I was puzzled. What was going on?
Her words were clear, her gaze cold and sharp. She showed none of the confusion the others had described.
Zach paused, then gave a little laugh. “I’m so relieved to see you’re all right.”
"Funny how concerned you are. Could it be because you still love me?" she said, loosening the braid she had just made.
"You know me," Zach began. "Actually, I wanted to discuss something else."
"Say it."
Without even lifting her eyes, Isabelle began braiding her hair again.
“You know how much I value the lingerie factory Mr. Summers built from nothing. I run a lingerie company now myself, and I’d like to merge his factory with mine.”
“You want to buy my family’s factory? Why? Is your own company struggling?”
“Of course not! You know I studied fashion, and I spent years learning about lingerie from Mr. Summers. Running a lingerie factory is a simple matter for me. I’m suggesting this partly to protect his life’s work, and partly because you’re unwell and Ethan is too busy with his other business to look after the factory. Given that…”
“Given that, you think my family should sell you the factory? Is that it?” Isabelle had just finished her braid and was already undoing it again.
"Of course—it's up to you, really."
Zach’s tone was gentle, as though he had only her interests at heart.
"Me? I have no plans," she said lightly, smiling as she braided again. "It's just a factory. I'm not like someone else; I can't be bothered scheming over it."
Her words were loaded.
Zach had clearly heard the sarcasm too. He gave no answer, merely turning a little so that his profile faced the camera.
“It’s not out of the question. You’ve had your eye on my family’s factory for years. If I don’t let you have it, I’m afraid you’ll drive yourself mad wanting it.” She laughed.
As she finished speaking, she looked up with such an intense stare that for a moment I could not tell whether she was looking at Zach or at the camera.
“How much are you offering?” Isabelle asked calmly, like a seasoned negotiator. There was no trace of confusion in her manner. If I had not seen the recording myself, I would never have believed it.
Zach faltered, opened his briefcase, and took out a document.
“I’ve drafted all the terms. The price is well above the market value of Belle Lingerie. If you agree—” he began.
“If I agree, the scheme you’ve been planning for years will finally succeed, won’t it?” She tossed the document aside.
"Plan?"
Zach smiled softly, as if he didn't understand. "What plan?"
Isabelle laughed. “For heaven’s sake, after all these years we’ve known each other, do you still need to pretend? You know perfectly well what you did the day I was poisoned!”
For an instant Zach seemed frozen, the false warmth of his smile still fixed on his face.
“I told only you what I planned that day! I trusted you, so you were the only person I told about the prank. I put a bottle of fake pesticide there. Why? Why was it real pesticide that I drank?”
Zach's face went stiff. "Anyone could have moved the pesticide. The person most likely to touch it would be Ethan Bennett."
"Yes, anyone could have moved it. But no one knew it was supposed to be a prop for me. If he had known what I planned, how could he be stupid enough to think I'd actually drink something so foul?"
"I don't see what that has to do with me!" Zach protested.
“The real problem was the glass of juice you brought me before I drank that pesticide!”
Her voice grew agitated, her eyes feverishly bright. “After drinking it, I lost my sense of smell and taste! All this time in a hospital bed, it’s the only explanation I’ve been able to find. It was that juice!”
She had pulled her braid loose again. Hatred filled her face as she glared at him.
Zach did not deny it. He did not even look afraid. He simply stood there, calm and silent for a long time.
Just as I began to fear he might do something to her while no one else was there, Zach gave a small smile. “You actually… worked it out.”
Hearing that, my blood rushed to my head. I had assumed her rant was madness; instead Zach admitted it on camera.
"So you're not completely deranged," Zach said, then sat down on a nearby chair.
“But you were mad enough to be obsessed with marrying Ethan. If you hadn’t been so determined to marry him, how could I have brought myself to hurt you?”
“Shameless!” Isabelle spat.
“Hmph. Better shameless than as low as you, Ms. Summers. Tell me, what was so wonderful about Ethan? When all the suspicion fell on him, you stopped your father from reporting him to the police, then used it to insist on marrying him. An heiress, determined to marry a penniless man who didn’t love her. What would you call that, if not low?”
Zach's cheerful tone cut deep with every phrase.
"At least I bet on the right man," she ground out.
“So what? He put you in a hospital and left you there,” Zach replied. “You would have been better off marrying me than him. At the very least, if Ethan had been sent to prison back then, I would have felt duty-bound to marry you. With all you’d done to help me, I wouldn’t have treated you badly, would I?”
"You're disgusting," she said, face twisted with loathing.
“I’m disgusting?” Rather than looking offended, Zach seemed viciously pleased to have dropped the pretense. “And Ethan isn’t? Since you married him, has he ever even touched you?”
Isabelle turned her head away, silent.
“But he kept finding other women and having children with them.” Then, as though something had just occurred to him, he added, “Still, you and your father brought that on yourselves.”
At the mention of her father, Isabelle reacted: “How dare you speak of my father! He did a lot for you!”
“He did so much for me? Like what? Oh, I see. You mean taking Ethan and me into your home, preparing us to become sons-in-law who would marry into your family?”
Isabelle glared, but Zach ignored her. “Am I wrong? Wasn’t that your father’s plan? What are poor people like us in your eyes? Breeding dogs? If you like us, you bring us in to mate with a bitch like you. If not, you treat us like strays, hitting and scolding us whenever you please!”
“That’s nonsense! My father wasn’t that kind of man! If that had been his plan, he would have thrown you out long ago. Why would he have kept you working for our family?”
"Because I was useful!" Zach snapped.
Zach Newman let out an angry roar, and for the first time the muscles in his face twisted.
"Forget it."
His tone shifted on a dime. "It's all over now.
“Since that old bastard is dead, and you…”
He cast a mocking look at Isabelle. “Looking like that, I wouldn’t bother to look at you even if you were naked. I don’t think Bennett would, either.”
Anger surged through me. Then I heard a strange sound beside me and turned toward Ethan. His knuckles were cracking as he clenched his fists.
Then I noticed that the knuckles on his hands were covered in wounds.
It was obvious at a glance how he had come by those wounds.
I glanced at the raised veins on the backs of his hands. He must have been overwhelmed by grief and anger when he watched the recordings alone.
The recording continued. Zach’s words seemed to have struck a painful spot: Isabelle turned away, refusing to meet his mocking, contemptuous gaze. But he would not stop hurting her. “Even a few years ago, he might not have wanted you.
“You should thank me for getting him to marry you. If I hadn’t drugged you, would you ever have got your wish?
“What a joke. You women think a prank will get a man’s attention. Have you been reading too many novels?
“If you want to tie a man to you, you have to be ready to pay a real price.
“Ha! Ha! Ha!”
For some reason, after those words, Isabelle suddenly tugged at her braid. Her eyes grew feverish and confused. “I want to marry him!
“I want to marry him!
“Daddy!
“I want to marry him!”
Her piercing cries filled the hospital room. Zach calmly put the contract back into his bag. Moments later, four members of the hospital staff appeared in the recording. One was Rose Rowan.
Zach had already replaced his sinister smile with an expression of alarm and concern. “Doctor, please look at her. What’s wrong with Isabelle? She was fine a moment ago…” he said to Rose.
Rose was too busy to answer him. She pushed him out of the room.
The recording ended there. Ethan closed the video and sat motionless for a long time. I saw the scabs on his clenched fists split open again and was about to get up for the first-aid kit.
Just as I began to rise, Ethan spoke, his voice hoarse after the long silence. “He was behind all of it.”
I nodded.
"Do you understand? It was—Zach Newman. He did it!"
"I understand."
I frowned. “He hurt Isabelle Summers. That alone is enough to put him in jail!”
“Not just Isabelle.”
He named them in a low, heavy voice. “Mr. Summers, Mrs. Summers, Lily Carter, and…”
He didn't finish, but I already knew who he meant.
“My lawyer and I have put the evidence together. Tomorrow the lawyer will submit it to the police and prepare to bring a case.
“This time, I’m going to ruin him.”
He warned me that Zach seemed to know about Hazel and me. I told him Zach might be confusing me with Lin Shujing. Ethan thought hard, but he could not work out what Zach wanted either. For now, it seemed Zach would have no chance to carry out any further schemes, so we let the matter rest.
After Ethan left, I let out a long breath. At last, in this life, the truth behind the tragedy that had entangled him and Lily had come to light.
On Sunday I took Hazel and Daniel to Lily Carter’s house early — the same unit Claire Sutton had originally lived in.
The living room was full of toys and treats; balloons and decorations hung everywhere.
Hazel had been insisting on her little panda costume since early that morning. Daniel wore a green dinosaur costume, and Noah was dressed as a husky.
The three kids burst into giggles the moment they saw each other.
Since Lin Shujing and Yvette hadn’t arrived yet, Lily set the kids up in the play corner she made for Noah. One wall was painted with chalkboard paint so they could draw freely. The kids were in heaven.
"Where's Dr. Lewis?" Lily asked me.
"He… he had something to take care of," I said.
“But it’s the weekend, isn’t it?” Lily asked in surprise.
"Uncle went on a date with Aunt Rose today," Daniel piped up out of nowhere, looking up innocently.
Lily looked even more astonished. However hard she pressed me, I refused to satisfy her curiosity.
She did not seem to mind. She had been in a good mood for the past couple of days, ever since the video of Zach admitting to poisoning Isabelle and trying to frame Ethan had appeared on television and online. Even people who had never followed the story now understood what had happened, along with those who had believed the hostile posts. The condemnation of Ethan gave way to sympathy and support. Most strikingly, his company’s share price rose faster than ever.
But that wasn't what made Lily happiest.
What had truly cheered her was Ethan's proposal.
She had told me as soon as he proposed.
At first she sounded happy but hesitant and apologetic. When I repeatedly assured her that I truly did not mind, her laughter turned to sobs. Her voice was full of hurt and sorrow. I listened quietly for a long time. That weight had been on her heart for far too long.
Her life must have been hard all these years: loving a man she could not have, while burdened by guilt over the woman she had harmed. Regret had weighed on her for years, yet she had found the strength to carry on.
I comforted her softly until, still sniffling, she thanked me. Only then did I end the call.
Now, watching her in a rose-pink dress flitting through the room like a flower sprite, I couldn't help smiling.
Soon Secretary Gao drove up to Lily’s home. Ethan had sent him with gifts, chiefly an enormous cake and two outfits for the children.
As I unfolded Hazel’s princess dress, Gao smiled. “Mr. Bennett chose both outfits himself!
“He put real thought into them, so I hope both children can wear them as soon as possible.”
"Okay, got it."
Lily couldn't help asking, "Why hasn't Ethan come?"
“Mr. Bennett has something to attend to and can’t get away,” Gao said. His eyes flicked toward the two of us. There was something unsettling in that fleeting glance, but I could not quite catch it. I had not been sleeping well lately; perhaps I had imagined it.
Lily had noticed none of this. “Thank you for coming all this way,” she said with a small smile, then saw Gao out.
After Gao left, I looked at the princess dress, then at Hazel, happily playing in the panda costume she had insisted on wearing. I set the dress aside. Lily also examined the little prince outfit Ethan had bought for Noah and put it down with a faint, rueful smile.
"What's wrong?" I asked.
“The outfit is a little narrow. I don’t think Noah will fit into it.”
She did not seem troubled by it. Glancing at the three children drawing together on the chalkboard wall, she added, “It would fit Daniel, though.”
She set the cake on the table next to one she had already prepared.
We chatted idly until Lin Shujing and Yvette arrived. Yvette wore a giraffe costume with a long neck bobbing as she walked — utterly adorable.
As soon as Lin Shujing came in, she handed me the hair clip. I called Hazel over. Hazel took it, thanked her, then ran to Lily. “Aunt Lily, can I give Yvette one of the clips you gave me? Then my best friend and I can have one each!”
With Lily’s permission, Hazel eagerly popped the clip on Yvette’s head and explained loudly, “I’m wearing a carrot clip today. Next time we can both wear these!”
Once everyone had arrived, Lily organized a series of games: folding newspapers, team rock-paper-scissors, and drawing and guessing. The children had a wonderful time. It was clear how much thought she had put into Noah’s party.
During a lull when everyone sat on the carpet, I couldn't help admiring Lily — she was a good mother. Now that Ethan had opened his heart to her, they could become an enviable family.
As I wiped the sweat from Hazel’s face, I heard Yvette say to Lin Shujing, “Auntie, this is about to fall!”
Before the child could finish, Lin Shujing cried out, “Careful!”
I turned quickly. Somehow, the other things on the table had pushed Ethan’s cake to the edge. As Yvette passed, the giraffe head sticking up from her costume caught on it.
Before anyone could react, the cake wobbled and toppled over, smearing cream all over Yvette and Daniel, who was standing close beside her.
The adults hurried over. Yvette was frightened and afraid she had caused trouble, not knowing what to do. Daniel stood beside her, dazed, looking from the cake on the ground to me.
Lily reacted quickly. “It’s all right. This is my fault for not putting the cake somewhere safer. Yvette, Daniel, are you both all right?”
Yvette looked timidly at Lin Shujing, who was wiping cream off her with tissues and reassuring her that everything was all right. Only then did Yvette relax a little. “I’m sorry, Aunt Lily. I didn’t mean to,” she said.
“It’s all right. That was my fault. You must have been frightened,” Lily said gently.
“We have another cake, so don’t worry.”
As I wiped cream off Daniel with a tissue, Hazel said, “Mommy, Yvette’s and Daniel’s clothes are dirty!”
Lily seemed to remember something. She hurried to fetch the little prince outfit and handed it to me. “Put this on him.”
Surprised, I glanced at Noah. He looked completely unconcerned, his round cheeks pink. “I don’t like that outfit. Give it to him.”
Hazel tugged on my sleeve and shouted, “Mom, Mom, I want to give the princess dress to Yvette. Is that okay?”
I told her it belonged to her, so she could decide.
When I handed Hazel the princess dress, she seemed taken aback for a moment. Then she quickly took it over to Yvette.
After Yvette and Daniel had changed, the four children started playing at a prince and princess getting married. Hazel said that, as a panda, she would perform a ball-rolling act for them. Hugging a round ball, she lay on the carpet and rolled over several times with surprising agility. Her endearing performance made everyone laugh.
Noah wouldn’t be outdone. Dressed as a husky, he insisted Daniel throw things for him to fetch, sending Daniel pacing around the living room looking for something suitable to toss.
Watching them having such fun, my mind drifted elsewhere. Lily stayed close to the kids, worried about another accident.
At some point, Lin Shujing had sat down beside me.
"What are you thinking about?" she asked.
“Nothing.” I came back to myself and smiled at her. “I’m just a little tired.”
“You’ve just let her have him? No regrets?”
"How did you know?"
She laughed at my surprise. “I’m not blind. I noticed that dazzling diamond ring the moment I came in. Isn’t it one of the rings in that wedding set everyone’s been talking about?”
Seeing that I understood, she went on. “You really have let him go, haven’t you? You didn’t even take notice of an engagement ring that big.”
I smiled. “I have one too.”
“Mr. Bennett must be loaded!” Lin Shujing shook her head and clicked her tongue. “I’ll have to charge more for endorsements when I renew my contract!”
I shook my head slightly, but did not explain that my diamond ring had nothing to do with Ethan.
After eating and drinking, Lily suggested we take the kids to the nearby park.
We’d been cooped up and everyone agreed. Since parking near the park might be tricky with so many of us, we decided to walk.
Our group filed out in a cheerful parade; hearing the children chatter and laugh eased my mood a little.
But that feeling did not last. Just outside the gate of the apartment complex, a sense of unease crept over me.
It was cold and clinging, as though a sinister gaze were following us.
“What’s wrong?” Lin Shujing asked, concerned.
I shook my head. "Nothing."
I glanced back. No one suspicious. I must be overthinking. I didn’t want the rest of them to start worrying for my sake.
Surprisingly, the park was quiet despite the weekend. We found an open space and spread out a picnic blanket. The three adults sat down while the four children rolled around on the grass.
"This is so nice," Lily breathed, inhaling the fresh air.
“What’s so nice?” Lin Shujing said, leaning lazily against a tree.
"I always used to daydream about taking kids to the park or mall with friends. It made me happy. But after Noah was born, caring for him nearly killed me, and I don’t really have any friends, so—" She stopped herself. "Anyway, this is the first time. The park is so pleasant."
They chatted idly, but I remained uneasy.
After the recording appeared online, Zach Newman had vanished. Police officers had been stationed at his company and his home, but his colleagues said he had not been to the office in two days. No one knew where he was.
I scanned the park. A few moms with kids scattered about, two elderly couples strolling. We’d play a bit more, then head back, I thought.
"Hey, Claire, hold my phone. I’m going to the restroom."
Lin Shujing handed her phone to me. I slipped it into my small bag.
“Now that you mention it, where’s my phone?” Lily patted herself down, then muttered, “Oh, it’s in my bag. I forgot to bring it.”
After Lin Shujing left, Lily and I sat quietly. A little later, she said softly, “Thank you.”
“Mm,” I answered softly.
Out on the grass, Hazel began her panda rolls again. Noah, unwilling to be outdone, hugged his legs and rolled too. Yvette and Daniel clapped, cheered and laughed beside them.
We watched them in silence. A breeze drifted by and gently blew away some of my worry, making everything seem peaceful.
A moment before my phone rang, I was still wrapped in that peace. Then, in an instant, a shadow fell over it.
“It’s me.” Mark’s voice came through the phone. Wasn’t he on a date with Rose? Why did he sound… angry?
"You’re in the park, right?" he asked.
"Yes. How did you know?"
“Come over for a moment. I’m in the pavilion by the park entrance.”
"But—"
He cut me off and hung up before I could ask anything.
I stared at the dark screen and hesitated. Then I told Lily I would be back soon, glanced once more at the children in the distance, and left.
I hurried toward the pavilion and saw Mark from a distance. He was pacing restlessly inside. I had never seen him like this before.
"How did you know we were here?" I asked.
"The neighborhood security guard told me. He heard you talking."
He spoke rapidly, as if even a second’s delay would make him forget the answer.
Oh, so it must have been the security guard I had sensed watching us at the apartment complex. Relieved, I let out a breath and began to ask:
“Weren’t you with Ro…”
“What does that mean?” he asked abruptly.
“What does what mean?”
“You’re not Claire Sutton!”
“What do you mean? You’re not Claire Sutton—then who are you? Is this some new way of turning me down?” His questions came like a machine gun.
He was so worked up I wanted to calm him, but he wouldn’t let me speak. "If it’s a rejection, why did someone else tell me? Don’t you have the courage to say it to my face?"
“I’m not Claire Sutton,” I said at last, when he stopped speaking. “Now I’ve told you myself. Can you believe me?”
He looked at me with shock and pain in his eyes. Even then, his reason had not deserted him. The stream of questions stopped. His lips moved as though he were swallowing each word before he could say it.
Seeing him like this, I understood that Rose had probably told him everything I had said. Perhaps it was just as well. If this ended his hopes, I would no longer have to torment myself over it. Would I?
But watching him there—pained and confused—wasn’t something I wanted to do either.
What could I do? I couldn’t do anything.
After sixty years of changing seasons, of joy and sorrow, partings and reunions, I had thought there was nothing left in the world to hope for, nothing that could move me.
But fate didn’t leave me alone. It woke me up again and gave me a young body. My life had meaning again—hope, joy, health—and for that I was grateful. I looked forward to the future.
Yet in this new life a terrifying thing had happened: my heart—had started to stir.
This man standing before me had been just a name in my memories. But now he was real: flesh, blood, kindness, loyalty—a real man.
I couldn’t ignore the flutter I felt around him.
But… “I assume Rose has told you everything, so there’s no need for me to repeat it.” My voice was calm and cool, betraying nothing. Good.
“I—” Mark began, then choked on his words.
“All I want now is to help Daniel and Hazel grow up happy, with lives different from the ones they had in my previous life. As for you, Dr. Lewis, you are important to Daniel. I hope… you can be happy too.”
"And if I’m not happy?" he snapped, sounding sulky.
I fought the sting in my eyes and forced myself to remain calm. “Then at least don’t go abroad.”
"Don’t go abroad?"
“Don’t misunderstand. I’m saying this for Daniel’s sake. In my previous life, his maternal grandparents died after he grew up. He was miserable when you left. Without you, he had no family left.”
I had told Rose that, in my previous life, Mark had gone abroad after Daniel came of age and never returned. I had not told her how his life ended.
He searched my face, trying to find the slightest crack in my resolve. At last, disappointed, he lowered his voice. “I’m going. I have to.”
"Why—"
For the first time, I realized his reasons for going abroad might be more complicated than I had thought. Before I could ask, a series of piercing cries sounded in the distance.
I jolted and instinctively walked out of the pavilion.
The screams didn’t stop—they grew more frantic. I could make out words—"Help," "children"—mixed into the cries.
At those two words, my eyelids began to twitch. Before Mark could work out what was happening, I was already running back the way I had come.
He followed me.
The cries for help grew nearer—those shouts… they were definitely Lily Carter!
My scalp prickled. There was only a roar in my head and the sound of her desperate cries. What had happened?
When I rounded a path and finally saw Lily, she was clutching two children and crying for help. Beside her, Lin Shujing was stopping passersby. “Could I borrow your phone?”
“Could I borrow your phone?”
When Lin Shujing saw me, she rushed over, snatched my bag, and pulled out her phone almost at once to call the police.
Still shaken, I only then saw who the children in Lily’s arms were: Hazel and Noah.
“What happened?” I demanded.
At the sound of my voice, Hazel threw herself from Lily’s arms into mine. “Mommy!”
“I don’t know! I was distracted for a moment, and two men suddenly appeared. They picked up Daniel and Yvette and ran! I was on my own. I had to stay with these two. They went toward the park’s back gate!”
“Daniel!?” Dr. Lewis sounded stunned.
“Were they child traffickers?” Lily asked tearfully, looking at us in distress.
On the phone, Lin Shujing gave the police our location and told them as much as she knew.
After hanging up, she joined us. “Some fans stopped me on the way back. Those men seem to have known exactly what they were doing. They were probably child traffickers. The police should be moving soon. I think we should split up: Lily can stay with the children and wait for them, while the three of us go in different directions to look at places like the train and bus stations.”
Lily and Dr. Lewis agreed instantly. I hesitated, something niggling at me.
The feeling of being watched had begun at the apartment complex. The unease had stayed with me all day. And then… my gaze stopped on Hazel in my arms. Her panda costume!
In a flash, everything clicked together. A blurred answer formed in my mind.
I handed Hazel to Dr. Lewis, pulled out my phone, and dialed.
“It’s me. Are you at the office?”
“Did Secretary Gao go back yet!?”
“What’s going on? Why are you panicking?”
Ethan sounded baffled on the other end. “After delivering the children’s gifts today, he asked for time off and went home.”
“Those two outfits you sent—who else saw them besides you?”
“Only Secretary Gao saw them. What’s happened?”
“The kids were taken. This involves Secretary Gao. Send people to find him right now!”
There was a bang in the background, then Ethan’s frantic voice: “Hazel and Noah!”
“No—Daniel and Yvette. They were wearing the clothes you sent, so the kidnappers mistook them for Hazel and Noah. Go after Secretary Gao now. He’ll know something!”
“All right. I’m on it.”
He agreed at once.
“Do you have any contacts in the police? Lily saw them running toward the park’s back gate. They must have had a vehicle. Could you get someone to check as soon as possible? It happened a little over ten minutes ago. If there are cameras nearby, they might have caught something.”
Ethan didn’t ask more. He promised to check and hung up.
After the call, we followed Lin Shujing’s plan. For safety, Lily took the two children to the guard booth at the park entrance to wait for the police. Lin Shujing, Mark and I split up at the three-way junction outside the back gate.
I followed the signs toward the bus stops, asking whether anyone had seen two men carrying two children, one in a princess dress and the other in a prince outfit. As I went, I looked for surveillance cameras.
Unfortunately, cameras were nowhere near as widespread in this era as they would be decades later. I could see almost none at the intersections or outside the shops. I kept searching, losing track of time, until my phone rang. I fumbled it out of my bag and answered without looking.
“Claire, it’s me. The police say someone saw two men carrying the children into a van. They found footage from a camera some distance from the park’s back gate. A little over half an hour earlier, two small white vans had driven onto the road west of the gate. Neither had a license plate. For now, they think the children are in one of them.”
“The police have sent teams in that direction. You and Lily should take the kids home and lock the doors. I’m on my way.”
I ignored his instructions to go home. After ending the call, I rang Mark and explained what we had learned, then called Lin Shujing. The vans had gone in her direction. Once I had told them everything, I ran back the way I had come.
As I neared the park entrance, a black car braked sharply in front of me. The window lowered, revealing Mark. “Get in!”
I climbed straight into the front passenger seat. Mark started the car and accelerated along the road to the west.
All three of us stared anxiously ahead. I leaned forward, searching the road without blinking.
After a while, I spotted something. “There! That must be the camera that recorded them.”
That strengthened our belief that we were heading the right way. I checked my phone. Fifty minutes had passed since Ethan’s call, and he had said the recording was already more than thirty minutes old. About an hour and a half had gone by. My palms began to sweat. They could be close to leaving the city by now.
I did not know how thorough the checkpoints would be in this era, and hardly dared to think about it. I watched the road and kept checking the time on my phone. Then, at the worst possible moment, its battery ran out.
I put the phone back into my bag, more anxious than ever.
Neither Lin Shujing nor Mark had blamed me since the children were taken, but I was still consumed by guilt. If I had not walked off with her phone, if I had not let Yvette wear Hazel’s dress… I had wanted everyone to be happy, yet it felt as though I had done nothing right. Now innocent people had been dragged into it too.
I couldn’t even force myself to look back and comfort Lin Shujing.
We watched every vehicle we overtook, drawing close enough to look carefully at the vans. Sometimes we even checked the oncoming traffic. When one battered van passed in the opposite direction, I twisted around to look at it.
“That one has a license plate,” Lin Shujing said quickly, as though she had read my thoughts.
Before we reached the checkpoint, all three of us spotted a white van parked beside it. More importantly, it had no license plate!
The car had barely stopped before all three of us hurried out and ran to the van. We peered eagerly through the windows, but it was empty. There was no sign of either child.
Without a word, Mark rushed toward the checkpoint office. Lin Shujing and I followed close behind.
Inside, a middle-aged man with a face full of worry was explaining that his plates had come off somehow. Three police officers stood there too. When they saw us, they hurried over.
“Officers, where are our children?” Lin Shujing demanded.
“Who are you?” the lead officer asked.
“I’m the little girl’s aunt, and he’s the boy’s uncle. Have you found them? Is that the van we’re looking for?” She spoke so fast that no one could get a word in.
“Ma’am, please try to stay calm,” the officer said. “We’re from the police station nearest this checkpoint. We came as soon as we received the order. But…” He indicated the worried man. “Since then, this is the only white van without a license plate that we’ve stopped. It had only the driver in it, which is very different from what you described.”
“There was only this one?” I asked.
“When was this van stopped?” Dr. Lewis asked.
“A little over ten minutes ago. Just this one,” the officer answered both of us. “We’ll keep a close watch for any other vehicles that might match. Please try to stay calm.”
Outside, Lin Shujing looked dispirited and more anxious than ever. We stood beside the road, silently watching a few cars pass. Then Mark said, “The timing doesn’t fit.”
“What?” Lin Shujing was dazed.
I looked at Mark and immediately understood. The middle-aged driver had probably happened to take the same road, and presumably had not been driving as fast as we had. He had arrived only a little over ten minutes before us.
If the kidnappers’ van had stayed on this road, it should have reached the checkpoint much earlier. Surely the checks had been tightened by the time we received the news, so a suspicious vehicle should have been stopped. Its absence could hardly mean it was traveling more slowly than we were, but it should not have been fast enough to get through before the police alert either. The likeliest explanation was that it had turned off somewhere we did not know about.
I told Lin Shujing, “Call Ethan. Tell him what’s happened here and ask if there’s any new info.”
Lin Shujing took out her phone and called Ethan. Once connected, she briefly explained what had happened and what the three of us suspected.
Ethan said he’d go check things out right away, then asked Lin Shujing to hand the phone to me.
As I took the phone, the three of us got back into the car. Mark turned it around and drove back the way we had come.
"Didn't I tell you to stay with Lily and keep the kids safe?" Ethan's voice came through sharp with accusation.
I ignored that and asked if he'd found Secretary Gao.
“I’m on my way to the airport,” Ethan said. “An employee saw that Gao had booked a flight to Canada. When they asked, he said he was going on holiday, but he hasn’t submitted any leave application recently.
“We’ve already checked his home. No one was there.
“But how did you know something was wrong with him?”
“Almost no one knew I had moved, but the paparazzi found my new address almost immediately. When Noah was hospitalized, I heard it was someone you sent who took him there. Yet that private news appeared online almost at once.
“Unless the paparazzi were keeping a round-the-clock watch, how could they have known?
“Put those things together with Gao delivering the clothes this morning and specifically urging us to dress the children in them. Then Daniel and Yvette were mistaken for your children. Almost everything points to Gao. How could I not suspect him?
“As for why he would do it, we’ll have to find him before we can know.”
After my rundown, Ethan promised to update us on the van's movements as soon as he had news, warned us to be careful, and hung up.
I let out a long breath and was about to hand the phone back to Lin Shujing when another call came in.
I instinctively glanced at the caller’s name on the screen and let out a little cry. “Dad!”
The car braked hard. Lin Shujing, who had leaned forward to take the phone, hit her head on the seat in front of her and cried out.
Mark stared at me, his eyes wide with disbelief. I froze. Clutching her head, Lin Shujing took the phone from my hand.
“Hello?” Lin Shujing said to her brother-in-law. I could hear the hesitation and fear in her voice, though she tried to remain calm. “What is it?”
I couldn’t hear the other side, only Lin Shujing’s replies:
“My sister’s left eyelid keeps twitching? She wants me to bring Yvette home as soon as we’re finished here?”
"…"
“Is my sister beside you?”
“Then move away from her for a moment. Don’t let her hear what I’m about to say.”
“Please, stay calm and listen. Yvette is missing.”
"Right now we don't know whether it's a trafficking case or… anyway, we've called the police. We're tracking a white unplated van. Officers are on it.
“I’ll text you the details in a moment and let you know immediately if anything changes.”
Mark and I held our breath as we listened to Lin Shujing. Several times he looked at me in disbelief, but I avoided his gaze.
I was every bit as shocked as he was, perhaps even more.
I searched my childhood memories and finally managed to ask, “Shujing, what’s your sister’s name?”
She did not notice the change in me. Still typing her message, she replied, “Lin Yutian.”
An icy chill rose from the soles of my feet and spread through me.
"Does your sister's family live in the city?"
"Yes. Pretty much the opposite side of town from you."
Suddenly drained of strength, I said, almost too quietly to hear, “Get going!”
Mark seemed to understand something of what was happening from my expression. Without asking anything more, he started the car again.
My hands clenched. Sweat beaded on my forehead.
Suddenly everything made sense—why I could never remember where I'd lived as a child. We never stayed in one city for long.
We had moved constantly when I was little. Dad always said his work was the reason. Only after I entered university in this city did he tell me what had really happened. There had been a fire when I was very young. I had escaped unharmed, but afterward, he told me, Mom developed bipolar disorder. Staying too long in one place brought back her fear and triggered episodes, so he kept moving us to a new place.
What had brought on Mom’s illness was… the loss of her younger sister. My aunt had died saving me from that fire.
I couldn’t even bring myself to look at Lin Shujing.
In my previous life, Lin Shujing, my own aunt, had died to save me. Yet it had happened so long ago that I had failed to recognize her when I first met her and Yvette.
Yvette!
Yvette!
Yvette Zhao!
She still hadn't changed her name.
And because of that, I had failed to realize that this little girl was me.
Dad had told me! He had told me all of this! How could I have forgotten?
To comfort Mom and honor my aunt, Dad had changed my name to Yvette Lin. How could I have forgotten something so important?
No, I had not simply forgotten. Whenever anyone asked why I did not use Dad’s surname, Zhao, I had spared myself the explanation by saying I used Mom’s surname. My aunt had died so early that, over time, even her memory had faded from my mind.
It was all my fault.
I pressed my fingernails into my palm, furious at myself.
The car was moving much more slowly than on the outward trip as we waited anxiously for news. Before long, Ethan called. “My contacts at the police station say there are four cameras along that road. One is broken and another is obstructed, but a different camera did catch something.
“The van turned onto Willow Ridge Road at a point five kilometers from the checkpoint.”
“We also have Gao. He was evasive, but he couldn’t take a beating. He knows very little, though he says he overheard Newman talking about taking them ‘back home.’ Willow Ridge Road leads out of the city, and not far beyond that is Newman’s hometown. The children are probably heading there.”
"I've told the police everything. They're dispatching the nearest officers now."
Ethan's information felt like a shot of adrenaline.
With the route confirmed, we headed straight to Willow Ridge.
With Ethan’s follow-up messages and what we could find online, Lin Shujing worked out the route while Mark drove.
I watched the road in silence, questions racing through my mind. Why would Zach Newman want to kidnap Noah and Hazel? Hours had passed since the children were taken. Were they really at his old home? Why take them there? Why did he hate Ethan so much? Was it just because Ethan had won Mr. Summers’ approval and Isabelle’s affection?
No. There had to be a deeper reason fueling years of resentment.
What was it? What? What could it be?
I barely knew Zach. Our only real conversation had been on the day of the launch. His cold, scornful look after drinking that night came back to me, along with the words he had spoken in the car: “Ethan, now… he hasn’t forgotten his roots…”
“Ethan, now… he hasn’t forgotten his roots…” The words went round again. “Ethan, now… he hasn’t forgotten his roots…”
The thought struck like lightning. Not Zach's hometown—Ethan's old home.
I shouted, "Call Ethan now!"
Lin Shujing dialed quickly and handed the phone to me.
"Ethan, where's your old home?"
"Yatesville. Why? Any new leads?"
“I think Zach has taken the children to your hometown. There’s no time to explain. We’re heading that way now. The police will probably reach Zach’s hometown before we could, so we may have to take a chance on this.”
Ethan said he'd update the police and hung up.
I handed the phone back to Lin Shujing. She began searching for the route to Yatesville. “Claire, are you sure we should go to Mr. Bennett’s hometown? That van…”
"I… I'm not sure," I admitted.
Then an idea came: "We'll split up. One team to Zach's family home, the other to Yatesville."
Mark immediately agreed. “I trust your instinct, Claire. I’ll go to Yatesville.”
Lin Shujing hesitated, so I added, “The team going to Zach’s place should meet up with the police there—both to be safer and to keep lines of communication open.”
As if to help our plan along, a police car caught up and pulled alongside. It was the same lead officer from the checkpoint.
We stopped, explained the situation, and decided Lin Shujing would go with the police to Zach’s family home. We swapped numbers and split up.
After Mark and I turned the car around and set off again, he asked, “Did you send Ms. Lin away on purpose?”
I took his phone and silently searched for the route. That was answer enough.
"Why?" he asked.
“Perhaps… to save her life.”
For the rest of the drive we said nothing beyond directions.
Yatesville was a long way from the city—remote, with rough roads and sparse houses. The closer we got, the worse the roads became.
And then, right as we were about to enter Yatesville, the car sputtered and died—out of gas.
Mark slammed the steering wheel in anger.
There wasn't time to waste. We both got out and started walking toward the village.
The sun was sinking toward the horizon. Low hills and irregular patches of farmland lay around us. Ahead were ochre-colored houses with tiled roofs. Mark and I exchanged a glance and started forward.
“Wait!”
Mark suddenly called out and pointed at the ground. “Tire tracks!”
I hurried to look. Sure enough, the ruts on the dirt road were still fairly clear. More importantly, there were no other wheel marks nearby.
I glanced toward the village not far off. It didn’t look like a place with frequent vehicle traffic.
That made me feel even more certain.
We didn’t hesitate. With the last light of sunset, we followed the tire tracks.
The path was rough; the ruts were uneven, so whatever vehicle had traveled here hadn’t done so smoothly.
The light grew dimmer, but we still avoided using the phone as a flashlight for fear of draining the battery.
At last, after another twenty-odd minutes on foot, we came upon a van parked on the road.
The van was battered. We briefly shone the phone’s flashlight through the windows. It was empty.
We circled it in disbelief and found nothing.
Just as disappointment began to settle, I spotted the license plate.
I’d seen this van before.
On the way to the checkpoint, I’d noticed it.
I told Mark immediately. He brightened for a moment, then his brow tightened even more—if, as we suspected, Zach Newman had brought the children here…
Nothing good would come of it.
A chill passed between the two of us. We didn’t say it aloud; we simply looked for clues around the vehicle in silence.
The area was very quiet. So when Mark’s phone rang, we both jumped. He answered quickly.
“We found the white van without a license plate in the river here, but it was empty. The police searched the whole village and questioned every resident. No one saw Zach Newman. It’s a small village, and we searched the surrounding area too. Nothing!”
Lin Shujing had launched into her account as soon as the call connected.
“We found a van over here, too.”
Mark handed the phone to me.
“This van passed us on the road earlier. Now it’s parked here in Yatesville, but there’s no one inside. We’ll ask around the village to see whether anyone noticed who drove in or where they went.”
“The police are still searching the village to see who drove the van into the river,” Lin Shujing said, her voice cracking. “What if we can’t find them? How do I explain this to my sister?”
“We… we’ll find them. I’m going now—I—”
Before I could finish, light flared from somewhere behind me. Facing me, Mark slowly raised his drawn brows, terror filling his eyes. In them, I saw the reflection of a bright flame.
I turned. Fire was blazing halfway up a low hill.
A scream rose in my head.
I forced myself to tune out the roar in my ears and shouted into the phone, “They’re here! They’re here! It’s on fire! Hurry!”
Before I finished, Mark was already sprinting toward the flames.
I followed.
The ground was treacherous—hard-packed earth studded with big stones—and night was falling. We ran with difficulty.
In my desperation, I tripped and fell.
I scrambled up, my knee searing with pain; my lower leg nearly buckled again.
No. I couldn’t stop.
I gritted my teeth and ran on.
The fire grew stronger, and my anxiety climbed with it.
As I neared, I saw Mark wrestling with someone!
A figure was running away a short distance off.
I wanted to help Mark, but he shouted, “Save the children!”
The flames had spread. From where I stood I could see this was a dilapidated house—two rooms at most, the doorway already caved in.
Were they inside?
Why was there no sound?
I called out, frantic, “Daniel! Yvette!”
The fire roared on, but no answers came.
Just then, something glinted in front of the threshold. I instinctively reached down to pick it up and burned my hand. A hair clip.
The clip Hazel had put in Yvette’s hair!
Without another thought, I pushed the clip into my pocket, wrapped my coat over my head, and rushed into the fire.
My eyes felt baked dry by the heat. But I could not turn back. I had to find them.
The room was small, yet I could barely make anything out through the flames. I strained to examine every corner. No sign of the children.
Ignoring the heat searing my skin, I pushed into the inner room. My eyes burned so badly that I had to feel my way ahead.
I felt my way from corner to corner. As I reached the fourth, just when I was beginning to despair, my hand touched a foot.
Hope and excitement surged through me. As I drew closer, my vision seemed to clear a little.
There they were: Daniel and Yvette, my own childhood self. Both lay motionless on what seemed to be a narrow earthen sleeping platform.
There wasn’t a moment to lose. I lifted Daniel, then gathered Yvette into my arms and headed for the exit.
Pain in my knee intensified, but I couldn’t slow down. It felt like my leg might snap. I didn’t look at the wound; I focused only on the doorway, inching forward with every ounce of strength.
It was only five or six meters, but I felt like an ant crossing a hundred-meter track. Much of the roof had already collapsed. Burning pieces of its wooden beams and thick thatch kept crackling down around me, forcing me to inch forward.
At last I reached the outer room, the doorway just ahead. A burning piece of wood a little over half a meter long fell from above. I flinched, and Yvette slipped from my arms.
I tried to crouch and pick her up, but pain shot through my knee so fiercely that I almost dropped Daniel too.
My leg wouldn’t bend.
There was no time to hesitate.
I held Daniel securely and struggled toward the doorway. This time I made it outside. Unable to bend my knee, I could do little more than let him fall against the slope beside the house.
Without pausing, I turned back toward the room. At the threshold, a hand gripped my shoulder and pulled me a step backward.
Before I could react, Mark lunged forward and bolted in!
“Right by the door!” I coughed. “On the floor…!”
Before I had finished, Mark burst out of the burning room with the child in his arms.
I followed him over to Daniel. Mark laid the two children side by side and immediately began trying to revive them.
“How are they?” I coughed. “What’s happened to them?”
“Quick! CPR!” His movements were labored but rapid, his breathing ragged, yet his hands did not stop.
I tried to follow his lead, but the pain in my knee made it impossible to kneel beside Daniel. I dropped to the ground and propped up my upper body. At least I could do something.
From a distance we heard a metallic clanging—“clang clang clang”—and someone shouting, “Fire! Fire!”
Soon the sounds of police cars and ambulances drifted closer.
Mark and I kept trying to revive the children. For a moment I feared he would break Yvette’s ribs with his compressions. Police officers, medics and villagers rushed up together. The villagers immediately began fighting the fire.
A medic pushed me aside and took over caring for Daniel. Someone relieved Mark too, and he collapsed beside us, exhausted.
Only then did I remember the man who’d wrestled with him earlier.
Two officers walked over toward the figure lying not far away. I watched until they dragged the unconscious man up and I could see—it was Zach Newman.
A dark stain of blood matted his head. As he was lifted, something clattered to the ground—a large stone, the same kind that had tripped me.
Only then did I look down and register which knee was hurt. Bone was showing through the wound.
I hissed, and then heard a soft cough—“cough—!”
It was Daniel.
Before I could turn to look, everything went black.
…
Time flew. In the blink of an eye it was Hazel’s eighteenth birthday.
I told my newly hired assistant to pick up the cake we’d ordered, then buried myself back in work.
Ten years of work had established my home assistive-equipment business in the market. The properties I had bought years earlier had also risen in value, leaving me with substantial assets.
On top of that, Ethan had converted all of Belle Lingerie’s production lines to make bras for middle-aged and elderly women. Sales were good. After talking it over with me, he gave Hazel some shares; Lily agreed, too.
In short, Hazel had become a wealthy young woman before she even turned eighteen. Better still, she was as endearing as ever.
Hazel texted: “Mom, I’ll be home soon. Can you come back early? I want a little more time with you today.”
I smiled and replied with a simple “Okay.”
Joining Martha and me for Hazel’s birthday would be Ethan, Lily and Noah, and Lin Shujing, who had just returned from an overseas advertising shoot. The last two guests were that inseparable young couple, always together.
As soon as my assistant returned, I finished up, gave everyone at the company the rest of the day off, and headed home. I had promised Hazel I would be back early.
When I opened the door, the living room was decked out in birthday decorations—everywhere you looked, the air hummed with celebration.
A huge doll stood in the middle of the room. I paused to admire it. This one was very well made.
I forgot to mention—Hazel discovered a new talent in this life: doll design.
She’d started learning to design and make dolls a few years ago. I didn’t stop her—in fact, I encouraged it wholeheartedly.
Who would’ve thought she’d become famous for a doll modeled after her own childhood look?
This mother couldn’t have been prouder.
I walked in, set the cake down, and took a look around. “Hazel?”
No answer.
“Hazel?”
I searched her bedroom, the dressing room, the storage room and the bathroom. There was no sign of her anywhere.
Not knowing where she’d run off to, I just dropped onto the sofa and closed my eyes for a moment.
In the silent room, a big hand suddenly landed on my shoulder.
I was already braced for mischief—this brat loved pranking me.
I reached back and pressed my hand over it. The moment I touched it, I realized it was not a human hand at all.
I jumped up so fast from the couch that my heart lurched. Before I could turn, a string of giggles filled the room.
Yep, it was Hazel.
The doll that had stood in the middle of the living room was now behind the sofa, shaking its head and laughing. Torn between laughter and annoyance, I said, “You’re a grown girl, and you still act like a child!”
The doll clumsily lifted off its headpiece, revealing Hazel’s face. “I’m eighteen. That’s not old! I plan to stay eighteen forever. Mom, can you unzip the back for me?”
I pretended to be annoyed. “No. Work it out yourself!”
Hazel fumbled, turning the doll’s round body awkwardly as she sidled around the sofa and lunged at me. “Mommmmm—pleaseee!”
She made her voice deliberately silly and shook my arm until I felt dizzy. At last I raised my hands in surrender. “Now you need help? How did you get into it in the first place?”
“Martha helped me. Once I was inside, she went out to hide. She let me know the moment you entered the complex!”
“Hmph. You two are in cahoots.”
“We just wanted to surprise you!”
After changing, Hazel skipped outside to fetch Martha.
Martha was getting older, but after so many years together, none of us wanted to part. Hazel needed much less looking after now, so we carried on as we were.
I went to my room and changed, then turned before the mirror a few times. Something was still missing.
I pulled open the jewelry cabinet and tried on a few necklaces before picking one.
Just as I was about to close the cabinet, a glint caught my eye.
The hair clip.
I picked it up and sat down, letting my thoughts drift.
Back then, Yvette and Daniel had miraculously regained consciousness. With timely rescue and treatment, neither suffered any lasting harm. I was told they had inhaled little smoke because they had been unconscious and we had reached them in time.
Me? My leg was broken, my hair almost completely burned off, and I’d inhaled a lot of carbon monoxide in that burning mud house. It took ages to recover afterward. At least my face was unhurt.
When Lin Shujing reached the hospital and saw the state I was in, she burst into tears. No one could stop her sobbing. Later she joked that she had completely forgotten her public image. Thank goodness none of her fans had been there.
Mark had knocked Zach unconscious with a stone. When Zach woke, he tried to feign madness and confusion, but the police saw through him. After more than a year of court proceedings, he was finally sent to prison.
I got to see my younger parents. They didn’t understand why tears started falling when I saw them, but my mother, like when I was little, gently took my hand.
Lin Shujing had survived. She went into acting too, and after a decade of honing her craft, had become an internationally known performer whose talent spoke for itself.
In this life, Mom had not developed bipolar disorder, and Dad no longer had to keep moving her and Yvette from place to place.
And Yvette had never changed her name. She was still Yvette Zhao.
Unlike in my previous life, she and Daniel had started dating in high school. They were inseparable. Every time I saw them together, I could not help smiling fondly.
Hazel resented Daniel for stealing her best friend and often accused Yvette of putting romance before friendship. That never stopped her from rushing a doll over to Yvette first whenever she came out with a new design.
Everything seemed to be falling into place. Then I heard a commotion outside. I got up and headed for the door. Before I saw anyone, Hazel called out, “You! Thanks for the gift. Off you go, then!”
“You can’t do that! I haven’t even had a bite of cake,” eighteen-year-old Daniel complained, though his eyes were full of laughter. “Besides, that gift was from Yvette. You haven’t had mine yet. If you don’t want it, I’ll take it home.”
“I don’t care—get out!” Hazel pouted, chin in the air, refusing to look at him.
“All right, I’m going. Yvette, let’s go.” Daniel took Yvette’s hand and motioned for the door.
Hazel panicked and grabbed Yvette’s other hand. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry—okay?”
“He’s teasing you,” Yvette said. She freed her hand from Daniel’s and took a small gift box from his pocket. “Here. His present is right here!”
“What’s with everyone crowding the doorway?” another boy’s voice called. We all looked outside to see Noah.
Noah was no longer the chubby kid he used to be; the baby fat had melted away, sharp edges showing on his young face—he looked a lot like Ethan Bennett now.
“Where’s Dad?” Hazel craned her neck to look.
“He’s still downstairs parking,” Noah said, ushering everyone back into the house. “Don’t block the door—let Martha in first.”
Once everyone was inside, Noah came over and hugged me. “Aunt Claire.”
The others would not be left out. One after another, they flung their arms around me too. They did not know their own strength; I could barely breathe.
Lin Shujing came in with Ethan and Lily, and once everyone was there, the house buzzed with chatter.
The birthday party started amid all that din and went on in the same noisy way.
After we ate and drank our fill, the adults sat on the sofa to chat while the kids headed to the playroom to try out Hazel’s new game console.
The four of us chatted idly. Lily kept needling Ethan. Parking had not been what held them up: only after they arrived had she discovered that Noah had left the special birthday present she had chosen for Hazel at home.
“I told you before we left!” Lily said indignantly.
“All right, all right, my fault,” Ethan said good-naturedly. “You can give it to her next time. She’ll have another birthday next year.”
“Next year she’ll be nineteen! Eighteen and nineteen are not the same!” Lily protested.
I listened to their bickering with half an ear. Then Lin Shujing leaned close and asked, “Have you been in touch with Dr. Lewis lately?”
I nodded, silent, lost in thought.
Three years earlier, Mark had left Daniel in my care and gone abroad. That was when I finally learned why he had insisted on going. When he was young, he had made a promise with Daniel’s parents: before he turned forty, he would spend a few years living overseas to experience life on the other side of the world.
Daniel had been just starting high school, but all of us, including him, supported Mark’s decision. I had my misgivings, yet it was not my place to stop him from keeping a promise to people who were gone.
And so Mark had gone overseas alone. Every so often, a postcard arrived from a different place. With so many easy ways to keep in touch, he seemed to be avoiding a real conversation with me. Why keep sending postcards, then? They usually said much the same thing: “I’ve arrived in such-and-such a place. Everything is going well. Don’t worry about me.”
Realizing this, I suddenly noticed it had been a long time since his last postcard. My heart tightened. I didn’t have time to explain to the others—I hurried back to the bedroom.
I pulled open the bedside drawer and took out a stack of postcards. The most recent one was two months old. What happened?
Unease swept over me. Almost without thinking, I picked up my phone and called Mark. An automated message told me his phone was switched off.
My heart sank. I sat on the edge of the bed, stunned and unsure what to do.
The doorbell rang. I couldn’t move—my old knee pain felt like it was coming back.
I heard Lin Shujing answer the door. Someone outside said, “The mail carrier seems to have left this at the wrong address. I saw it was for you, so I brought it over.”
“Thank you,” Lin Shujing replied politely. “Yes, this is the right address. Thank you for bringing it over.”
Soon Lin Shujing came in with the mail. “Talk about timing. Here.”
I took the envelope. At the sight of Mark’s name, my heart settled a little.
Lin Shujing left the room and closed the door. For a moment, the room held only my breath, my heartbeat, and the rustle of paper as I opened the letter.
“Claire, how are you? Last month I was seriously ill and spent more than ten days in the hospital. My body has recovered, but my mind seems to have gone wrong: I feel like a child, homesick.
“I don’t know whether I have a home to speak of. But when I think of going home, it is your face I see.
“This month I reached the last city I had always wanted to visit. Everything here is beautiful.
“When I was young, I dreamed countless times of settling here.
“I imagined waking each morning, opening the window to blue skies and white clouds, and looking toward distant mountains from the middle of the street.
“Now I live in an attic room that gives me everything I once dreamed of: somewhere quiet to stay, where no one would come looking for me.
“But as I write this, I wish someone would knock on my door.
“In these three years, I have written ‘Don’t worry about me’ to you thirty-two times. I admit I did it deliberately. I hoped you might still think of me sometimes, without feeling burdened.
“Two weeks ago, I heard that Rose Rowan had married.
“I felt a little relieved when I heard, and a little envious.
“She had been in that relationship for seven years!
“She said it had taken her seven years to be sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life with him.
“I envy her certainty, and even more, the companionship she has found for the rest of her life.
“More and more, I think about what you told me: that you lived the last part of your life alone. I did not have the courage to ask you then. Were you lonely?
“When I think that you may have to go on alone in this life too, I find the courage to set aside my own fear of solitude.
“When I walk alone through mountain woods, when I descend alone into deep valleys, I cannot help thinking of you.
“In this vast, empty world, you are making your way alone, and I have chosen to travel alone too. In a sense, could that be a kind of companionship?
“When this month’s journey is over, I plan to return home.
“I have done my best to keep the promise I made to my friends.
“The first half of my life was not particularly happy. In the second half, I hope for warmth and stability.
“Whatever you offer me, friendship or something else, will be enough.
“I once asked what I could do for you.
“Now I have found my answer.
“Be there for you.”
(The End)
