It's my daughter, Noelle Peace's first day at the kindergarten. But the teacher kicks us out instantly.

"Mr. Peace's son has been studying here for a year. Since when does he have another daughter?"

This leaves me feeling confused.

Noelle has only reached the minimum age to start her education. How is it possible for that child to study here for a year?

After investigating the truth, I find out that the new assistant, Myra Larson, had enrolled her own child into the same kindergarten as Mrs. Pearce a year ago.

I seek her out, only for her to flash her marriage certificate with my husband, George Pearce.

"I know you. You've been pestering my husband all these years, haven't you?"

The official stamp of the courthouse is shown on the marriage certificate, clear as day. The date is five years ago.

But the thing is, George and I have been married for three years.

On my daughter Noelle Pierce's first day of kindergarten, the teacher kicked us out.

"Mr. Pearce's kid has been enrolled here for a year," she said. "So, where did this girl come from?"

I was puzzled. My husband, George Pearce, and I had only just enrolled Noelle. She'd only just reached school age. How could she have been here for a year already?

After looking into it, I found out the truth. A year ago, a newly hired assistant at George's company had enrolled her own child here, using my identity as Mrs. Pearce.

I found her social media account and saw that she had posted a photo of a marriage certificate with the caption, "I know who you are. You've been clinging to my husband all these years, haven't you?"

On the certificate, the seal from city hall and the two names on it were unmistakable. And the date on it was five years ago.

But George and I had only been married for three years!

…

On the drive home, Noelle blinked back tears as she looked at me and asked, "Mommy, am I really an unwanted child?"

I gripped the steering wheel tightly. "Of course not. You're Mommy and Daddy's one and only baby, Noelle."

The tears she'd been holding back finally spilled over. Her voice broke as she cried, "Then, why does Ms. Larson's son say he's Daddy's real baby? All the kids at school said so, too. They even hit me and called me an unwanted child…"

My heart broke when I saw the slight swelling on Noelle's face. This was supposed to be her first day of kindergarten. Instead, this happened.

What hurt even more was when I contacted Myra Larson, she immediately sent me the photo of her marriage certificate. The name of the man on the certificate was the exact same as the man who had held me in his arms countless times. The city hall official seal was clear, and the date was five years ago.

But George and I had only been married for three years.

Thinking back, Myra's arrival at George's company had been sudden. She had joined and immediately became his personal assistant. Could it be…

I didn't dare finish the thought. I took out my phone and called George.

His male assistant, Clyde Teller, answered instead. "Mr. Pearce is in a very important meeting right now. Phones aren't allowed inside. If there's anything, Mrs. Pearce, I can pass the message along."

"Did George marry someone before me?"

Clyde was stunned. After hearing the situation, he hurried to reassure me. "That certificate is probably edited. Don't worry, Mrs. Pearce. Mr. Pearce would never do something like that!"

After hanging up, I felt slightly calmer. George truly wouldn't dare do something like that.

Still, I needed answers. For now, all I could do was wait for him to finish his meeting.

To make school more convenient for Noelle, George and I had bought a gated estate near the school.

Today was supposed to be move-in day. But when my car stopped at the front gate, I saw that the house I was supposed to inspect was bustling with people coming and going, moving in luggage that wasn't mine.

A huge banner hung across the entrance that read, "Congratulations to Mrs. Pearce on her new home!"

Reporters crowded the gates, cameras pointed at a glamorous woman standing at the center. When I saw her clearly, my eyes widened.

Myra? What was she doing here?

The reporters were buzzing with excitement as they focused all their attention on Myra. "Ms. Larson! Is the marriage certificate you posted online real? Did you leave the entertainment industry back then because you found true love?"

I quickly unlocked my phone, only to see that viral news headlines had taken over the Internet.

"Myra Larson and George Pearce."

"Myra Larson Posts Marriage Certificate."

"George Pearce: My Secret Love of Five Years Can Finally Be Revealed to the World."

I clicked on one post. The first image was the very marriage certificate Myra had sent me, captioned, "That's right. We've been married for five years."

The comments section exploded.

"Oh! I knew our goddess didn't quit the entertainment industry just to dodge Rachel Miller's scandal."

"Are you kidding? That's Myra Larson. As if Rachel Miller, that nobody, ever stood a chance."

"I'm a kindergarten teacher. Rachel showed up today with a kid, claiming it was Mr. Pearce's. What a joke!"

"Oh, my God! That's next-level delusion."

"Before Queen Myra had left the industry, Rachel was already messing around with Mr. Pearce. I bet she never expected that he and Myra had already been married for years. Hah! This is so satisfying."

"So, that's why Queen Myra disappeared for five years. She was secretly living her best life!"

"Get rid of all this trash. Throw it out. If Georgie comes back and sees it, he'll be upset." Myra wrapped her shawl tighter around herself and pinched her nose at a pile of brand-new collectibles.

The movers immediately began hauling my things toward the garbage area. There, mixed in with filth and trash, were antiques and paintings I had collected from all over the world.

"Stop!" I grabbed a worker's arm and turned to Myra. "Who do you think you are? What are you doing in my house?"

"Oh, my God! Bitchel Miller actually dared to show up?"

"Hey, can't you read? The banner says congratulations to Mrs. Pearce. Do you think you're Mrs. Pearce? What a joke!"

"Delusional fans these days are taking it too far. Squatting in someone's house is unacceptable."

"This estate must be worth hundreds of millions of dollars. Of course she'd try to ride off the hype. What a shameless tramp!"

I slapped the reporter who was running his mouth and snapped, "And who the hell are you? Who gave you permission to come in here?" I knocked his camera aside, grabbed him by the collar, and shoved him out. "Get out!"

"Stop!" A slender, pale hand blocked my way.

Myra frowned slightly, her delicate face showing an imposing expression. "Ms. Miller, I'm usually very easy-going, but that doesn't give you the right to cause a scene on my property!"

"She's lost it! Rachel, the crazed fan, actually dared to cause trouble on the goddess' turf. She actually thinks this is her home?"

"Hah! She really thinks she's Mrs. Pearce, doesn't she? How ridiculous!"

I shot Myra a cold glare. "Move. I don't welcome outsiders in my home. That includes you."

Myra positioned herself in front of the reporter, her brows furrowing deeper. "Ms. Miller, I know you've held a grudge against me for years because of my husband. I don't mind that.

"Today is my housewarming. If you'd like to offer congratulations, you're welcome as my guest. But if you insist on clinging to delusions and assaulting people on my property, I'm going to have to ask you to leave."

She stood there in an elegant black dress embroidered with a floral print, a white shawl draped over her shoulders, and high heels, which elevated her graceful posture. Her crisp voice instantly won over the crowd. Cameras flashed wildly.

"Goodness! This is indeed our goddess! I'm dead. Her charm is killing me.'

"Our goddess is so polite, classy, and principled. Where do you find someone like her? I'm a loyal fan for life."

"If I were Myra and some psycho came pretending to be me and crashed my new house, I'd have security beat her and throw her out."

Myra showed little outward reaction, but the corners of her lips curved slightly in satisfaction. When she looked back at me, her chin lifted. "Ms. Miller, for old times' sake, it would be best not to stir up trouble."

I slapped her hard across her face. A red mark bloomed on her cheek instantly. I slammed the property deed against her chest, grabbed her collar, and said, "Take a good look. This is my property, not yours. You stole my daughter's spot in school, and I haven't even settled that score yet.

"Now, you want to squat in my estate? You're nothing but my husband's assistant. Who gave you permission to come into my home and cause a scene?"

"Ah!" Myra clutched her face and bent forward, wobbling unsteadily in her heels. Her voice trembled as she yelled, "Help!"

"Have you no shame?" Someone suddenly shoved me hard, nearly snapping my manicured nails. "Coming into someone else's house and making a scene! Is this a cry for attention?

"I can't stay silent anymore. If it weren't for not wanting to ruin Queen Myra's housewarming, I'd have dealt with you already! How dare you call our goddess your husband's assistant? Do you really think we wouldn't dare lay hands on you?"

I steadied myself, gripping my phone tightly, and sneered. "Alright. I've already called the police. Come at me if you dare!"

Myra's expression shifted subtly when she heard about me calling the police.

But a reporter quickly cut in, "Hah! You're just a scammer. Even if the cops show up, you'll be the one in trouble! Get out now. Queen Myra's property has no place for trash like you."

Someone grabbed my arm and yanked me toward the gate. I lost my footing and stumbled forward, about to crash onto the ground.

"What's going on here?" a clear voice rang out.

I snapped my head up.

"Oh! It's the estate's new property manager!"

"I remember her. She's that senior executive our paper featured, the one who worked her way out of poverty."

When I saw Jennifer Stewart approaching, I finally had a shred of hope. "Jennifer! Over here! Tell them the truth."

Jennifer was the college student I had sponsored for years. Due to her exceptional capabilities, the moment she graduated, I hired her at a high salary to manage my new estate. If anyone could clear things up, it was her.

"Jennifer…" Myra's expression shifted.

I shot her a cold look and grabbed Jennifer's hand. "Jennifer, tell them whose house this is."

"Miss…" The hand I was holding struggled, then slipped free. Jennifer forced a polite smile at me and said, "I'm sorry, but I don't recall inviting you here."

"Jennifer?" I was stunned.

Jennifer moved to Myra's side, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. She asked with concern, "Mrs. Pearce, are you okay?"

"Mrs. Pearce?" For a second, I thought I had misheard.

I grabbed Jennifer's arm and turned her back toward me. "You don't recognize me? I'm Rachel Miller, the one who sponsored you!"

She looked startled, the smile on her face faltering. "I'm sorry, but the one who sponsored me has always been Mrs. Pearce…"

My anger flared instantly as I snapped, "I am Mrs. Pearce! You graduated just last month, and I attended your graduation ceremony. You recognized me perfectly fine then!"

"I… I didn't… I don't know what you're talking about…" Jennifer's eyes instantly filled with tears, her voice breaking.

"That's enough!" Myra slapped my hand away and pulled Jennifer behind her, frowning at me. "I know you resent me for taking Georgie from you. That's between us, and you can take it out on me. Why drag an innocent child into this?"

"Oh, my God! This is what a real sponsor looks like!"

"Exactly. People who truly care treat those they sponsor like their own children. They would never grab and rush them like that."

"I'm going to cry. Our goddess is so generous and kind. She and Mr. Pearce truly deserve each other!"

"What's wrong with Rachel? As if stealing a man isn't enough, now she's trying to steal credit for Queen Myra's charity work. What a bitch!"

Cameras flashed wildly. I stared at Jennifer in disbelief as she hid behind Myra, muttering, "Jennifer…"

Her eyes darted away, avoiding my gaze. She blinked, tears nearly falling. "Miss, I really don't know you. Please don't treat me like this…"

"Rachel!" Myra tightened her grip around Jennifer and shot me a warning glare. "I… I won't let you hurt her!"

A strand of hair fell loose, swaying beside Myra's face. Her gaze was defiant, making her look wounded yet resolute. It was the perfect picture of a wronged, dependable heroine.

"Poor Myra! It's all that bitch's fault!"

"I can't take this anymore! Someone needs to teach that bitch a lesson."

"While everyone was so focused on that tramp, I noticed something. The bitch's car looks familiar. I think I've seen it in Queen Myra's posts before. Don't tell me that's stolen too?"

"Let's smash it!"

"No!"

My heart clenched. But it was already too late.

Someone sprinted toward my car, raised a metal rod, and smashed down hard on the windshield.