I shook Evangeline's hand off. The diamond bracelet on her wrist dazzled so brightly that it made my eyes hurt.

"Julian is my legally-wedded husband. No matter what he left behind, I'll inherit it."

Outside, Leo kicked the door open. When he saw the bare, empty room, he frowned. Leaning against the doorframe, he waved the IOU in his hand, reminding me that the gambling debt was not a small sum.

Yet I declared firmly, "I'll take responsibility for this five-million-dollar debt."

That single sentence made Evangeline's eyes bulge. "Mari, with your family's situation, don't you need to borrow money just to pay for the funeral? That's five million dollars! How can you just agree to it?

"If you renounce your inheritance now, you'll at least be able to keep the house your family left you. If you don't, you and Shawn won't even have a place to live!"

Seeing me remain silent, Evangeline assumed I was considering her words. She immediately pulled an inheritance renunciation agreement from her Birkin bag and pushed it toward me.

"This is what you should be signing. If not for yourself, at least think about Shawn. If you can't repay the debt, you'll be labeled a worthless deadbeat. How will Shawn ever hold his head high at school later?" she urged, her voice thick with concern.

I, however, started sizing up the luxury items covering her from head to toe. None of it was fake—every item was genuine.

In the first year of my marriage to Julian, I finally saved enough to buy a pair of pure silver rings for us.

Evangeline tapped the line where my signature was supposed to go. The rose-gold band on her finger alone was worth more than ten of my wedding rings.

In our third year of marriage, I was harassed at work and wanted to change jobs. Julian told me to endure it. We were about to start trying for a baby and needed the money for baby supplies.

Evangeline leaned in close to my ear, urging me to sign. Her oversized earrings bearing a certain logo alone could've bought enough baby formula to feed Shawn until he was 18 years old.

Later, when I became pregnant, I felt sorry for Julian being the sole breadwinner. I didn't even dare spend a few extra dollars on fruit.

Then, when Shawn was born, he weighed just over four pounds and was put in an incubator. Julian said we couldn't afford it, and maybe we shouldn't save him.

I insisted on borrowing money from every coworker I had and dragged Shawn back from the brink of death.

By the fifth year of marriage, Shawn was ready for kindergarten. I worked three part-time jobs just to get him into a good one.

As for Evangeline, after she gave birth, she checked herself into a luxury postpartum retreat that cost over 4,000 dollars a night and stayed there for about a month.

I hadn't dared to ask her, thinking that she'd hooked up with some rich businessman and didn't dare to tell me. As it turned out, the person she'd hooked up with wasn't anyone else. No, it was my very husband who had pretended to be a broke, good-for-nothing nobody in front of me.

Even now, she exuded seductive charm as she continued urging me to sign the papers. After more than ten years, she was still thriving and youthful. As for me, I'd overexerted myself, and the corners of my eyes were etched with weariness.

My whole body trembled with rage just thinking about the way the two of them had played me for a fool.

How could they? Why should Shawn and I bear all the hardship while Evangeline and her son enjoyed all the luxury?

Even the middle-aged lady next door chimed in, oblivious, "Maribel, just give up the inheritance. Once you cut ties, you and your son will be able to live in peace!"

Evangeline crossed her arms. Her lips curled, one eyebrow raised. Her expression screamed, "See? I told you so", and "Just trust me. I won't steer you wrong".

After all, any normal person would understand the stakes here.

But I refused to listen. Without another word, I tore up the renunciation agreement.

"Even if I end up homeless, I'll repay Julian's debts for him," I said. "It's just a gambling debt. I can't let a little money be the reason Julian turns over in his grave."

Evangeline straightened, staring at me as if I were an idiot. Meanwhile, Leo stared at me viciously, warning me not to try any tricks.

But I wasn't the least bit afraid. I merely handed over the house deed as a show of good faith.

"Leo, this house is worth at least a few hundred thousand dollars. Give me three days. Once the funeral is over, I'll be sure to get you the money."

Seeing that I was even willing to put the house on the line, Evangeline realized I was serious and immediately flew into a rage.

"What good does putting the house up do? You're still short over four million dollars! How are you supposed to come up with that?

"Forget about three days! You and Shawn won't even have a place to stay. Are you planning to freeze to death on the street in this weather?"

As soon as she finished, she shoved a new copy of the agreement right up in my face.

But I just slipped my arm through hers and pretended to be all sad and pitiful. "Evangeline, you're my best friend. I know you wouldn't have the heart to see me and Shawn end up on the streets, right?"

Her eyes widened a fraction as she instinctively pulled her arm back. "I… I…"

The neighbor slapped her thigh. "Maribel, your friend here looks like a really loyal friend. I remember you used to help her look after her kid before, right?"

I nodded. "Yeah. Her son is about the same age as mine. They even have very similar-looking eyes. People who don't know better might even think they're brothers—"

Evangeline's eye twitched, and she cut me off before I could even finish. "O-Of course I wouldn't let you end up sleeping on the streets. Since you don't have a house anymore, you can just come stay at my place. We're… best friends, after all."

Her voice trailed off at the end, terrified I might notice something was off.

…

That very night, I moved into Evangeline's house with Shawn. The nearly 1,500-square-foot apartment was understated but undeniably luxurious, with crystal chandeliers, huge oil paintings on the wall, and a full wall of wine cabinets.

This was the first time Evangeline had ever let me into her home.

Opening my mouth in exaggerated shock, I gasped, "Evangeline, I had no idea you'd been living this well these past few years."

"It's a rental," she stammered. "The landlord was desperate to lease it out, so I got a great deal."

Oh, really? I ran my fingers along the subtle markings on the edge of the frame—Harlow Group's logo.

All the items in this place had clearly been bought by Julian for Evangeline and her son. Otherwise, how could she, with her 3,000-dollar-a-month salary, possibly afford to live in a place like this?

If Julian hadn't suddenly dropped dead, I would have cracked his skull open just to get some answers.

Why the hell had he pretended to be poor?

By day, he lived with me in a cramped, few-hundred-square-foot apartment, living hand to mouth. By night, he came here, holding another woman in a multimillion-dollar home.

Was this some kind of sick hobby of his?

I'd been married to Julian for over ten years. When we got married, he had nothing to his name. I hadn't hesitated in the slightest to let him move into the family house my parents had left me.

My parents had died young, so when I met a man like Julian, who had been willing to cook for me and take care of me, I immediately gave him my whole heart.

Back then, when he'd said he'd wanted to strike out on his own, I handed over all the savings I'd scraped together from years of work and let him take his shot.

Who knew he'd only lose the money over and over again?

I thought that since he didn't have money to throw around, he couldn't get into too much trouble.

What I never imagined was that not only was he rich, but he also had another woman on the side. And the very mistress who kept him from coming home was none other than my best friend of many years, the one I'd told everything to.

I roughly estimated the furnishings and decor in Evangeline's home. Any single item was probably worth enough to cover that five-million-dollar debt.

Yet what she wanted was for me and Shawn to fall into the depths of hell, without even a grave to rest in.

How could I not hate her?

Just then, Evangeline's son, Sean Frost, came running out of the bedroom dressed in luxury pajamas.

He was two years younger than Shawn, but because he was well-nourished, he was already the same height.

"Why are you stinky beggars in my house?" he shouted. "If you don't have a home, go sleep on the streets!"

"Sean! Watch your mouth!" Evangeline chided.

The irony was painful. My son and hers even had a first name that sounded the same when pronounced. No wonder they looked so alike, and no wonder Julian had never once called them by the wrong name.

I didn't say anything, while Shawn was so frightened that he burst into tears.

Evangeline clapped a hand over Sean's mouth and apologized to Shawn right in front of me.

That night, however, I overheard her secretly provoking my son.

"You can't blame anyone else for getting bullied. If your mom hadn't refused to give up the inheritance, you wouldn't have needed to come to my house and walk around on eggshells!"

She also encouraged Sean to harass my son, hitting and pinching him in secret.

Shawn was worn down by the torment. The next day, his back was covered in dark bruises. He didn't blame me; he just kept crying and begging to go home.

I watched all this happen but stayed silent.

Seeing how unmoved I was, Evangeline finally lost her patience.

Late one night, she snuck out onto the balcony to make a call.

"That's right. The one called Shawn… Yes, that entrance… No surveillance cameras there…"

The memory of Shawn's bloodied finger made my whole body tremble uncontrollably. I clenched my fists so tightly that my palms bled, only feeling the pain long after.

…

As expected, on the day of the funeral, just as I arrived at the crematorium, Leo called.

"Why hasn't the five million dollars been transferred yet? Today's the last day. If I don't see the money, Shawn is dead!"

A boy's crying came through the phone. I merely put it on speaker, not saying a word.

The funeral guests standing nearby were more panicked than I was, asking if we should call the police. But I just waved them off.

"No need," I said. "Let's finish the funeral first. The cremation is about to start. I don't want to delay my husband's final rest."

Evangeline stared at me in disbelief. "Is Shawn even your biological son? You're still going to tough it out even now?

"Just hurry up and sign the inheritance renunciation agreement! Tell Leo that the five-million-dollar debt has nothing to do with you! Otherwise, they really will kill Shawn!"

The crowd broke into a cold sweat, nodding along and agreeing with her.

I stared at Julian's body without blinking as it was pushed into the cremation chamber. In a low voice, I said, "Shawn will be fine."

Someone behind me shoved me hard. "You're still refusing to sign even now? You don't deserve to be a mother! How can a dead man about to be cremated be more important than your own flesh and blood?"

My knees slammed into the cold tiles, and the pain made me shout.

That was when a bloodstained schoolbag was delivered, making everyone's faces turn deathly pale. I froze in place from the triggering sight, and the guests around me instantly erupted in chaos.

Evangeline lifted her chin and sneered. "This is what you meant by 'he'll be fine'?"

She shoved the agreement in front of me and even stuffed a pen into my hand.

"Hurry up and sign it! Once Leo sees this, he won't be able to touch you or Shawn anymore! No matter how crazy they are, they wouldn't dare break the law."

But I still refused to pick up the pen, my eyes locked on the cremation chamber.

This time, Evangeline couldn't hold back any longer. She completely lost control and screamed in front of all the guests.

"Maribel Grant! Even though I'm your best friend, I still have to be honest here. Your son's already in Leo's hands, but you can't pay the debt, and you refuse to give up the inheritance rights. Aren't you just trying to get your son killed?

"How can a mother be this heartless? The person who should've died wasn't Julian—it should've been you, you heartless witch!"

She ranted and incited the crowd. Several unfamiliar faces took advantage of the chaos and pinned my hands down, forcing me to sign.

The rage burning here outside the cremation chamber nearly consumed me. Figures blurred before my eyes, and fists flew.

It wasn't until the body inside the chamber was reduced to blackened remains, and Julian's ashes were retrieved, that I smiled.

Everyone froze in shock.

With a loud rip, I tore the half-signed agreement to shreds.

Evangeline opened her mouth, intending to yell some more. But I just slapped her across the face, then kicked her to the floor without a moment's hesitation.

"Evangeline Frost, what right do you have to lecture me? I'm far more fit to be a mother than you—because the one who was kidnapped wasn't even—"