“Mr. Stephens, I'll agree to remarry into the Mason family of Harbor City and become a luck-bringing bride for that comatose man. But only if you agree to three conditions first.”

　　The man on the other end of the line let out a sigh, his voice laced with reluctance. ：“Cindy Stephens, I'm your father. That secret marriage of yours to the Vance family meant nothing to them from start to finish. Sending you to the Masons is for your own good……”

　　“Enough. Spare me the self-pity.” I cut him off, my patience gone. “Are you going to agree or not?”

　　Mr. Stephens's tone turned heavier. “Fine. Tell me.”

　　I gripped the phone, spacing out each word. ：“First, get me the divorce papers from Stanley Vance. And don't tell me you can't. You managed to throw my mother out of her own family with nothing but the clothes on her back, and she was an heiress. You have your ways.”

　　“Second, get Sammy's ashes back for me. But Stanley can never know it was me who asked.”

　　“Third, I want a disownment letter from you. Once I go to the Masons, we never speak again as long as we live.”

　　I paused, then added, ：“The Masons handed you a thirty-billion-dollar project. I'm sure you can manage it.”

　　The line went silent for a long moment before Mr. Stephens finally gave in. ：“Fine. Everything you asked for, I'll grant it. As long as you marry in quietly and behave.”

　　“My birthday is in five days. Come home and have one last meal with me.”

　　The call ended, and I let out a long breath.

　　This absurd six years was finally coming to an end.

　　A week ago, I'd still been taking my son Sammy to register for kindergarten. That day his whole face had lit up as he told me, ：“Mommy, once Sammy graduates from kindergarten, Sammy can protect you!”

　　But that very day, a kidnapping took his life forever.

　　The moment I learned Sammy had been taken, I ran eight red lights to get to the scene. I was still one step too late.

　　By the time I arrived, I watched with my own eyes as a kidnapper put a bullet through Sammy's head. The shock seized my heart, my vision went black, and I collapsed.

　　When I came to, I didn't eat or drink for three days. Then one afternoon, dozing, I overheard two nurses talking as they passed.

　　“That young couple in the VIP private room upstairs is so devoted. The guy hasn't left his girlfriend's side for a second. I wish I had a boyfriend like that……”

　　“You don't get it. He's worried she'll be left with trauma. She was one of the hostages in that kidnapping four days ago, you know. The only one who died was the little boy. Such a shame……”

　　“Hey, you two, don't go spreading this around. I just overheard something on the inside. They say the kidnapper was an enemy of the Vances, and he made Mr. Vance choose between the two. And Mr. Vance chose that young woman……”

　　Their voices faded down the hall. My eyes snapped open, fixed on the ceiling, refusing to look away.

　　If everything they'd said was true, then my Sammy……

　　I'm not the kind of person who sits and waits to die. The instant that rumor reached me, I went straight to someone I trusted to dig into it.

　　In just three hours, I knew exactly how it had all happened.

　　That day the kidnapper had taken two people. One was Sammy. The other was a young woman, barely past twenty, they said.

　　When the kidnapper forced Stanley Vance to choose, he picked that woman without a second's hesitation. His own flesh-and-blood son, he didn't so much as glance at.

　　Crushed with grief and fury, I took the file from the investigation and went to confront Stanley.

　　But at the stairwell of the emergency exit, I heard his voice.

　　“Sam is only twenty. Her life is full of possibilities. As for Sammy, whether he's even mine is hard to say.”

　　The words sent the blood rushing backward through my veins.

　　Sammy was born at eight months, premature, because Stanley's family had taken their anger out on me. That was what triggered the early labor.

　　No matter how anyone twisted it, Sammy was Stanley's own son.

　　But now……

　　Another voice spoke up, one that clearly disagreed. It was Stanley's brother, Stuart Wiley.

　　“But you clearly had a chance that day to save both of them. Sammy looks a fair bit like you. How could you have the heart to abandon him? And then claim he isn't even your son? If Cindy ever heard you say that, it would destroy her.”

　　Stanley leaned back against the wall, balanced on one leg, and answered with careless ease. ：“Sam told me. No pregnant woman gives birth at just eight months. I believe her.”

　　“Besides, even if Sammy really was my child, his death drumming up publicity for the Vance Group is more luck than he earned in eight lifetimes.”

　　“His death was worth it.”

　　I stood at the corner of the entrance, clamping a hand hard over my mouth so not a single sob or word of grief could escape me.

　　My heart felt like a sharp dagger had been dragged across it, slicing it open, blood pouring out.

　　And every word Stanley spoke was another fine, barbed thorn, driving deep into my heart until I couldn't breathe.

　　I don't know how I left. By the time I came back to myself, I'd received a message from Mr. Stephens.

　　【The Mason family of Harbor City is interested in marrying you. Think it over.】

　　After three days of thinking, I agreed.

　　I finished the discharge paperwork and caught a cab home.

　　Standing at the door, I felt the world blur for a second.

　　Six years ago, for Stanley Vance, I'd agreed to a secret marriage without a second thought and moved into this little villa. Back then I was sweet on him, happy, my heart full of dreams about the future.

　　But six years had passed, and all of it was long gone.

　　I keyed in the passcode. Wrong password.

　　My hand froze halfway to pulling back.

　　I'd entered that string of numbers more times than I could count, could punch it in with my eyes shut, and now it told me I was wrong?

　　Refusing to believe it, I tried again. Wrong password, still.

　　While I stood there at a loss, the door opened from inside.

　　It was a delicate-looking girl. I'd seen her before, in the file I'd had pulled.

　　Samantha Pruitt. A freshman who'd just been admitted to Capital University.

　　The moment she saw me, the malice in her eyes was unhidden, even as her mouth curved into a sweet smile. "Hey, lady, who are you looking for?"

　　The year I married Stanley, I was only twenty too, soft and young like the girl in front of me.

　　It had only been six years since then.

　　I knew Samantha was trying to humiliate me on purpose. I couldn't be bothered to spar with her.

　　Just as I moved to step inside, Samantha suddenly grabbed my hand and leaned close to my ear, whispering fast. "What you gave birth to was a bastard. It didn't deserve to live."

　　Before it could even register, she yanked my hand hard.

　　By the time I came to my senses, Samantha was sprawled on the ground, clutching her belly, screaming in terror. "Stanley, my stomach hurts so much..."

　　Stanley arrived fast, and trailing behind him were several reporters hauling cameras.

　　He helped Samantha up, his eyes full of concern. "Are you okay? I'll take you to the hospital right now."

　　Samantha curled against his chest, pitiful, eyes red. "Miss, I judged you by your looks just now, and that was wrong of me. But you can't just shove me after I told you I was pregnant."

　　"Stanley, don't be angry. The baby and I should be fine. Maybe she was just in a bad mood..."

　　Stanley shot me a dark look, then had the butler send the reporters off, while he himself scooped Samantha up and drove away.

　　I watched the crowd scatter in front of me, my chest tight to bursting.

　　I'd known Stanley for eight years, been his for six. I knew that look of his too well.

　　This wasn't going to end here.

　　After the butler had seen the reporters off, I called out to stop him. "Uncle Logan, could I trouble you to pull the security footage for me?"

　　The butler nodded and agreed.

　　I turned and went upstairs. Looking at the crammed-full master bedroom, the memories came flooding back.

　　Back when I'd moved in, this place was bare. Stanley had his arm around my waist, his gaze doting. "From now on, treat this as your own home. Arrange it however you want."

　　I looked at that colorful wall of oil paintings, remembering how, because I loved to paint, Stanley had deliberately left one white wall for me to work on.

　　I lifted my eyes to the two frames above the headboard, remembering how, because I couldn't decide on a wedding gown, Stanley had taken me to shoot both the Western and traditional styles, then had them framed.

　　Back then he'd looked at me with stars in his eyes. "I can't give you a wedding ceremony, but every bit of the romance you deserve, I won't shortchange you on a single one."

　　I pulled myself back from the thought, took down the frames with a blank face, slid out the album inside, and tore it to pieces without hesitation.

　　I'd just thrown the shreds into the trash when there was a knock at the door, and Butler Logan's voice came from outside.

　　"Madam, I've found the footage you asked for."

　　"Send it to my phone."

　　Soon, I received the surveillance video. I forwarded it to Stanley right away and sent a message.

　　【This is the truth】

　　No matter how much Stanley believed Samantha, I didn't think he could keep playing blind in the face of the truth.

　　That afternoon I packed up three big bags of things and donated all of them to a charity, as a blessing for Sammy, hoping he could live happy and free in his next life.

　　All night Stanley didn't reply to the message, and he didn't come back.

　　The next morning I took my documents in to cancel the registration. The moment it went through, I caught the contempt and disgust in the staff's eyes.

　　Once I'd walked far enough, I faintly heard them gossiping. "Mistress." "Shameless homewrecker." "Serves her right her son's dead." Things like that.

　　I gripped my handbag tight and walked out the front door, and a rotten egg smashed against my head, the rancid stench hitting me square in the face.

　　Then came a barrage of rotten eggs and wilted vegetable leaves, a mob spitting vicious words, even telling me to drop dead.

　　Bewildered, I hurried into the car and left.

　　In the car I finally caught my breath. I opened my phone, and only then found there was a trending topic about me.

　　#Sam isn't the mistress, Cindy Stephens is#

　　I tapped the post open and read all of it.

　　It laid out how I'd shamelessly seduced Stanley, how I'd used dirty tricks to get pregnant, how I'd come crawling back to latch onto him six years later.

　　My whole body went rigid, my gaze locked on the account that posted it. It was the official account of Stanley's company.

　　For Samantha's sake, he'd actually used the main account to post.

　　It came back to me all at once, how when Stanley and I first got together, he said he couldn't go public with me yet, but couldn't hold up against my little tantrums, so he'd offered to come out with it on a secret account.

　　It was only after I gave birth that I found out the posts on his secret account were visible to me alone.

　　I should have seen it long ago. Stanley was never a good match for me.

　　It was my own stubbornness, my insistence that he was my fate, that not only got my Sammy killed, but left my Sammy's ashes with no peace.

　　All because the Vance family had a rule: any child who died before turning eighteen wasn't worthy of being laid in the Vance family cemetery.

　　And Sammy's ashes had been held in Stanley's hands all this time. I hadn't so much as laid eyes on them.

　　When I got home, I came face to face with Stanley. There was a softness in his voice.

　　"Cindy, don't take the talk online to heart. It's only temporary."

　　"Did you watch the video?" I cut straight to it.

　　His eyes flickered. He tried to change the subject. "Stop going after Sam from now on. She's a new artist my company signed. She's going to make me a fortune. Once she's earning, I can buy you anything you like."

　　"I asked you a question. The video I sent you, did you watch it?" My face was blank as I pressed him.

　　I already knew the answer in my heart, but I still wanted to hear him admit it with his own mouth.

　　"No." Stanley let out a helpless sigh. "It's already happened. There's no undoing it. Why do you have to keep clinging to it?"

　　By the end, a thread of resentment had crept into his voice.

　　My throat went bitter, as if a wad of wet cotton were jammed tight against it, and I couldn't force out a single sound.

　　In that moment my heart cramped with pain, and it felt like all the blood in my body had frozen solid.

　　Seeing me say nothing, Stanley assumed I'd taken it in. Relieved, he said, "There. Go apologize to Sam, and this whole thing blows over."

　　I dodged the hand he reached toward me and bit back my temper as I demanded, "Why was the villa's keypad code changed? Why won't you admit Sammy was your son? Why would you rather believe a stranger than believe me?"

　　"Stanley, we've known each other eight years. Don't you understand me at all by now?"

　　He met my questions with a flat gaze, his brow knitting faintly. "Cindy, stop making a scene."

　　"I don't know where you got these absurd conclusions, but you are not to touch Sam. Understand?"

　　"Stanley, can you live with yourself? I kept our marriage a secret for you, I went through everything to bring our child into the world for you, for you I—"

　　I hadn't finished when Stanley cut me off, his voice low. "Did I tell you to do any of that?"

　　His tone turned glacial. "Wasn't all of it your own choice? Did I force you to have the child? Did I force you to spend your life with me?"

　　"Cindy, don't act like I owe you something. Sam came into my life when I needed her most, and that was the moment I realized who it was I really loved. But I still have a conscience. I didn't divorce you."

　　"You should count yourself lucky, Cindy. Don't keep testing my patience. Be good and go apologize to Sam. Otherwise... I can't promise where your son's ashes might end up scattered."

　　It was as though a pair of merciless hands had torn my heart wide open. The violent pain left me unable to come back to myself for the longest time.

　　I didn't even notice when Stanley left.

　　By the time I came around, my body had gone numb, my limbs cold to the point that I couldn't move.

　　For Samantha, Stanley could actually stoop this low.

　　I gave a bitter, mocking laugh inside.

　　There was a time when some fool with no sense tried to harass me, and Stanley threw himself into a fight without a word. Afterward he pulled strings and had the man locked up.

　　I remembered how, covered in bruises, he'd said, "You're mine. No one gets to touch you. Now that you're with me, I will never let you be wronged."

　　But every bit of bitterness and grief I carried now had come from Stanley himself.

　　For the sake of Sammy's ashes, I still chose to go to the hospital. Before that, I took a shower and changed into clean clothes.

　　When I arrived, I took the VIP entrance and didn't run into anyone irrational.

　　The moment I pushed the door open, I saw Stanley feeding Samantha rabbit-shaped apple slices with his own hand.

　　My expression froze for a beat. Then, after a moment, I let it go.

　　So Stanley's tenderness could be handed to anyone, anytime.

　　His love really was cheap.