A busy tone suddenly sounded.

I stared at the darkening screen, my last shred of hope extinguished.

Alright, all the affection, all the concessions, died the moment Anastasia stopped breathing.

All that remained was revenge.

I opened my address book, found the number of the head of the internal investigation team and typed a text message: [Regarding Godfrey and Cassandra’s suspected embezzlement of public funds for travel, with attached evidence.]

Attached were screenshots of Cassandra’s WhatsApp status and the reimbursement form for Godfrey’s false travel expenses. And there was that dashcam video of him saying to Cassandra while taking a detour last night. “I’ll fly over to you as soon as I finish my family stuff.”

When the successful delivery notification popped up, the rain began to fall outside the window again, just like the day I braved the rain to run a business trip.

But this time, I was no longer the woman who got wet for him.

I wanted them to pay back what they owed me and Anastasia, bit by bit, with interest!

While sorting through Anastasia’s belongings, my fingertips brushed against her little dinosaur onesie; the fabric still lingered with a faint scent of milk.

In the frame, she smiled and held a lollipop, her eyelashes stained with stars. I reached out to touch it, but my fingertips clashed against the cold glass.

A knock on the door suddenly boomed, as rapid as a death sentence.

Through the peephole, Godfrey’s face flushed crimson. Cassandra stood beside him, her arm affectionately entwined with his, her fingers gently caressing his sleeve. I opened the door and a cold wind blew in, carrying dust from the corridor.

Cassandra seemed to have just realized what was happening. She let go of his hand, her fingertips curled at her side, an innocent smile on her face.

“Jessica, what a coincidence! I live nearby and Mr. Walters was stopping by to give me a ride.”

As she was about to leave, she reached into her designer bag and pulled out a bunch of keys. She held them between her fingers and shook them. “Mr. Walters, I left your keys with me. I’m giving them back to you.”

The peace locket hanging from the keychain was something I had asked for for Anastasia last year. Later, Godfrey said, “It’s tacky for a child,” and tossed it into a drawer.

I looked at Godfrey. His eyes evaded her for a moment. He took the keys with a hint of impatience, then waved Cassandra away.

The moment the door closed, I caught a glimpse of Cassandra’s gaze as she turned, a provocative smile on her lips. “Did you already know the company was going to investigate me?” Godfrey’s voice bombarded me, tinged with the humiliation of being caught.

“Come in if you have something to say.” I stepped aside to let him in, my eyes scanning the lingering scent of perfume on his shirt. “Don’t embarrass yourself in front of outsiders.”

“There’s nothing between Cassandra and me!” He immediately raised his voice, as if afraid the neighbors would overhear. “I just dropped her off on the way. Don’t get too carried away.”

“On the way?” I picked up Anastasia’s photo album and sneered inwardly. “From the Maldives to here. It’s quite far.”

He choked, then suddenly changed his expression, his tone threatening.

“I know you’re close to the top management. This review is serious. Help me find someone.

If anything happens to me, wouldn’t your current house and car be thanks to me? You’ll be left with nothing!”

I looked at him and suddenly laughed out loud. He probably forgot that I bought this house in full before we got married and only my name was on the title deed.

The car he drove was my father’s old Bentley, which he thought was too old, so he traded it in for a new one, which I also paid for.

He also forgot that the chairman of the international group he currently worked for was listed in my mother’s name.

Before his death, my father entrusted the company to a trust company, waiting for the official handover on my twenty-fifth birthday.

Three days later was my birthday.

A month ago, Uncle Homer and Group President Oliver, began submitting the annual financial report and departmental personnel updates to me.

I had originally planned to surprise him by confessing at the birthday party, but now it seemed he didn’t have the patience.

“I can’t help you with that,” I said and closed the photo album, my voice as calm as a still pool of water.

“You!” He was completely furious. He reached out to overturn the table, but stopped abruptly when he saw Anastasia’s urn on it. Then, like a broken jar, he pointed at the door and yelled, “Get out! Get out of this house!”

I bent down and picked up Anastasia’s belongings. Inside were her unfinished cookies and a crooked family portrait she’d drawn—her father was just a blurry silhouette.

As I reached the door, my phone rang. It was Homer.

“Miss,” he said hesitantly, “Godfrey’s investigation... are we really going to continue? He’s your husband, after all.”

The wind from the hallway blew in, ruffling my hair across my forehead.

I stared at my reflection in the elevator, tears in my eyes, only a frozen coldness.

“Uncle Homer,” I said softly, each word clear and distinct, “Business is business.”

The moment the elevator door closed, I thought I heard something shattering inside.

But that no longer mattered. From the moment he deliberately took the detour, from the moment he said, “It's a relief,” this man was already dead...

The hotel room our assistant had booked faced south. The sunlight fell on Anastasia’s small pillowcase, casting a warm, pale yellow glow.

I was staring blankly at that warm glow when my phone rang. Laurel’s voice, amplified with a deliberately weak tone, emerged from the receiver:

“Jessica... Mom’s dying... She’s in the hospital awaiting surgery... Come see me one last time…”

My heart suddenly clenched.

Even though she could be so mean, the words “Mom” and “dying” still made me panic.

I grabbed my bag and rushed out. My assistant called from behind, “Miss, do you want a driver?” I waved my hand, the only word on my mind being “hospital.”

The private hospital’s VIP ward was on the 18th floor. As the elevator doors opened, I ran into Cassandra, emerging, holding a glass of water.

Seeing me, the concern on her face instantly gave way to a smug smile. She stepped aside to let me in. “Jessica, are you here? Auntie just woke up and hasn’t stopped talking about you.”

In the ward, Laurel, half leaning against the headboard, her face flushed, was about to accept the apple offered by Cassandra. She barely glanced at me as I entered. “You’re finally here, empty-handed?”

On the bedside table were flowers and a fruit basket, clearly brought by Cassandra.

I didn’t respond, my gaze scanning the medical record on the bedside table—laparoscopic appendectomy, day one post-op.

When I received the call, I immediately called the director. This hospital was a high-end branch of a group.

The director personally arranged for the best surgeon and the surgery was scheduled in less than ten minutes.

When I arrived, the surgery had just concluded and the nurse said, “The patient is doing very well. Minimally invasive surgery is recovering quickly.”

It turned out that “almost dying” meant that she needed praise after minimally invasive surgery.

“Thanks to Cassandra,” Laurel said and took a bite of her apple, her voice resonant and uncharacteristically patient. “She’s busy running around, taking care of the paperwork and even wiping me down and giving me water. She’s more attentive than my own daughter. Unlike some people who just stand around.”

Cassandra lowered her head and looked embarrassed, but gently patted the back of Laurel’s hand.

“Auntie, don’t say that. This is what I’m supposed to do.”

“Your job?” Laurel’s eyes lit up. She suddenly grabbed Cassandra’s hand and raised her chin towards me.

“I wish I had a daughter-in-law like you! Capable and sensible and someone who could help Godfrey gain a foothold in the company. Unlike some people who, after having a child, stay home and eat for free, thinking they have mountains of gold and silver at home?”

My stomach churned.

She forgot that it was my connections that got Godfrey hired by the group when he just graduated; forgot that it was me who had the finance department pay the property management fees for her retirement apartment directly; forgot that every time Anastasia was hospitalized, she brought fruit when she visited her and she paid with my supplementary card.

“If you really like her," I crossed my arms and watched Laurel clutch Cassandra’s hand like a lifeline, “I can give Godfrey to her. It’s perfect. You can become a loving family and stop being an eyesore.”

“What the hell are you crazy about!” Laurel sat up abruptly, her IV tube swaying. “I’m a patient! I just came back from the brink of death! Cassandra saved my life, so what’s wrong with me saying a few words?”

“Nothing.” I pulled my lips, my voice cold. “Then ask your son to repay her for saving your life by marrying you.”

“You!” Laurel’s chest heaved with rage and she pointed at me, her words incoherent.

The door slammed open and Godfrey rushed in. He immediately saw Laurel’s furious face and yelled at me without a second thought, “Jessica, are you sick? Mom just had surgery, can’t you be a little more lenient with her? Do you have to make her angry?”

The anger and accusation in his eyes pierced me like needles.

I looked at him, then at the bouquet of roses Cassandra had brought by the bedside and suddenly felt ridiculous.

So in their eyes, my arranging the surgery overnight was a matter of course and Cassandra’s offering a glass of water was a huge favor;

My pain of losing my daughter was insignificant, while his mother’s anger was a heinous sin.

I said nothing and turned away. My pale face was reflected in the corridor window. My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a message from the dean: [Miss, Ms. Sandoval’s postoperative care has been arranged. Will the expenses be charged to your account?]

I replied with two words, “No need.”

From today on, the fate of this family had nothing to do with me.

When Godfrey chased me out, the smell of disinfectant mixed with the stench of alcohol washed over me. He grabbed my arm and pinched my knuckles painfully.

“Can’t you give me a hand for the sake of our marriage? Let’s put the investigation aside. I promise to treat you well in the future!”

“I’ll have my lawyer send you the divorce agreement.” I shook his hand off, my wrist immediately red. “No more, no talk.”

He suddenly raised his voice, “Don’t be so shameless! I can handle this even without you! Cassandra is Mr. Woodward’s niece. A word from her is far more effective than this decoration of yours!”

I looked at his exasperated expression and found it ridiculous. Last week, the HR department submitted the employee background check. Cassandra’s resume stated her parents were ordinary workers and the so-called “general manager's niece” was just a cover to deceive Godfrey.

The next morning, my assistant’s phone rang urgently. “Miss, please check the trending searches!”

On my phone, #ViciousMotherHarmsDaughter,SeizingProperty# topped the list.

I clicked on a video of Laurel, wiping tears from her face. Her hair was disheveled and she pointed at the air, sobbing.

“My granddaughter was only three years old and her mother murdered her! To run off with a stranger, she transferred the family fortune, even sparing her own flesh and blood…”

The comment section was like an exploded cesspool, a suffocating stream of obscenities…

[This woman deserves to be thrown into a pig cage!]

[She murdered her own child and still wants to take the money?]