Ethan walked over and said in a low voice, “Olivia, you’re not seriously thinking about taking the necklace back, are you?

I’ve already promised it to Lucas.

If you go back on your word now, it’ll make me look bad.”

I said coldly, “That was my mother’s keepsake.

Either you return it to me, or I’m calling the police.”

Ethan’s face immediately darkened.

He gave me an irritated look, then turned to the boy. “Lucas, be good. We don’t want her necklace—it belonged to someone dead, it’s bad luck.”

I was shaking with anger.

As soon as Lucas heard it had belonged to someone deceased, he yanked it out of his pocket and threw it to the floor.

Sophie ran over, picked it up with care, and after checking it over, beamed at me. “Mom, it’s not broken.”

Seeing her innocent smile made my throat tighten.

I looked straight at Rachel and her son. “This is my house. I’m asking you both to leave.”

Rachel’s expression faltered, and she looked toward Ethan.

Ethan frowned. “Olivia, is this really necessary? She’s a single mom—where can she go with a kid?

Besides, it’s not like we don’t have room. Why make things so hard on her?”

I said, “This house is mine. She’s leaving today.

Ethan Carter, don’t take me for a fool.

If they don’t go today, we’ll just go straight to filing for divorce.”

At the word divorce, Ethan’s composure cracked.

He glanced uncertainly at Rachel.

Just then, Lucas let out an exaggerated “Ouch!” and plopped down on the floor, clutching his foot and wailing.

Ethan, torn between worry and irritation, said to me, “Olivia, I told you to clean this mess earlier. Now the kid’s hurt because of it.”

The boy was crying loudly, but I didn’t see a single tear.

He kept holding his foot, claiming he’d stepped on something, but there wasn’t even a drop of blood.

Rachel, cradling him, said tearfully, “Ethan, don’t fight over this. We’ll just leave right away.”

She tried to help him up, but the moment she moved, he cried out again.

Without even looking at me, Ethan said to her, “If Lucas is hurt and can’t walk, then just stay here. It’s fine.”

After reassuring Rachel, Ethan turned to me. “Olivia, what’s the harm in letting them stay a day or two? The boy’s injured—do you really have the heart to throw them out?”

He took my arm, steering me toward the bedroom. “You just got out of the hospital, your body’s still weak. Get some rest.”

But when I looked at the bed, the sheets were a tangled mess, and inside them was a woman’s undergarment.

My stomach turned.

Ethan awkwardly pulled the blanket over it, as if to hide the evidence.

I walked straight to the guest room instead—but as soon as I stepped inside, a foul smell hit me.

In the corner were crumpled tissues tossed carelessly on the floor.

It didn’t take much to understand what that meant.

I turned around, took Sophie’s hand, and said, “We’re leaving. This place is filthy.”

Ethan grabbed my arm. “Olivia, it’s not what you think.”

Expressionless, I said, “Ethan Carter, I’m giving you one day to deal with them.

And as for us—we need to have a serious talk.”

I yanked my arm free and walked straight out.

On the way down the stairs, Sophie whispered, “Mom, are you going to get a divorce?”

I was silent for a moment before saying softly, “No. Mom and Dad will always be here for you.”

Sophie nestled in my arms. “Mom, as long as you’re happy, I’m fine.

I just want you to be happy and not have to put up with anything unfair.”

Tears streamed down my face.

She understood everything, even without me saying it.

That night, we checked into a hotel.

She was clearly exhausted from everything that had happened—she lay on the bed and fell into a deep sleep almost instantly.

I, on the other hand, tossed and turned, unable to sleep the entire night.

Ethan and I had been together for many years before getting married, and he had always treated me well.

But lately, his behavior had changed.

He’d changed the password on his phone, was constantly “working late” or “on business trips,” and even when he was home, he would lock himself in the bathroom for long stretches of time.

Several times, I’d overheard him talking on the phone in there.

When I asked, he said it was work.

Looking back now, I’m certain he was chatting away with Rachel Moore.

During my three months in the hospital, Ethan visited only a handful of times.

I never blamed him—I thought he was busy taking care of our daughter.

I never imagined that the child he was caring for wasn’t ours, and that our own daughter had been pushed out of her home and forced to work in the scorching summer heat.

The thought made my chest ache. I looked at Sophie sleeping peacefully and gently pulled her into my arms.

The next morning, she was still half-asleep when I carried her to the car to take her to school.

When we arrived, the teacher on duty was calling names from the roster, lining the children up before taking them inside.

But as the list came to an end, Sophie’s name was never called.

Puzzled, I approached the teacher. “You didn’t call Sophie Carter?”

The teacher glanced at me—polite but distant. “I’m sorry, Sophie Carter is not registered at our school. She can’t attend here.”

I was stunned. “That’s impossible. She’s been attending here all along.”

Several parents nearby gave me looks of disdain.

One said sharply, “Parent, do you even know what’s going on?

This is Newton Elementary—the best in the district. Without a property in the school zone, your kid can’t enroll.”

“Even if you have the property, tuition is tens of thousands a year. Can you afford that?”

Another scoffed, “Trying to bluff your way in? Ridiculous.

If making a scene worked, why would the rest of us spend hundreds of thousands to buy a district property?”

I insisted, “She’s been studying here all along—there must be a mistake.”

Sophie was starting to panic, and then she burst into tears.

At that moment, a familiar voice behind me snapped, “Olivia, what are you doing here making a scene? Don’t you know you’re embarrassing yourself?”

I turned and saw Ethan’s sullen face.

I ignored his tone and said, “This teacher says Sophie’s not enrolled here. That’s impossible—we were here for parent-teacher conferences just last term. There has to be a mistake.”

Ethan gave a small cough. “It’s no mistake. I transferred Sophie to another school.”

My mind went blank. “You what?”

Ethan said matter-of-factly, “Lucas just came back from abroad. His academic foundation is weaker, and he needs a higher-quality school.

But our property only allows for one admission slot, so I had to transfer Sophie elsewhere.”

Fury surged through me, and I slapped him hard across the face.

In front of everyone, the man who prided himself on his image completely lost his temper.

He shoved me hard. “What the hell are you doing?!”