After watching enough of the commotion, I finally stepped forward. I pulled out the sun-protective clothing I had prepared and walked toward Megan.

"Megan, put this on—what happened?" I asked, feigning concern as I helped her cover up. As I draped the jacket over her shoulders, I didn’t forget to scoop up the torn pieces of her gown and quietly slip them into my bag.

She pushed me away harshly.

"Jackie, stop pretending. Why are you acting like the good guy now?"

I laughed inwardly. If I didn’t have questions that needed answers, I wouldn’t even bother with you.

“Oh, I just saw you were in trouble,” I said smoothly. “Maybe the merchant gave you a defective dress. We should go back and demand an explanation.”

But Megan grabbed my arm, her face tight with unease.

"I’ll handle it myself. Right now, I need to find Brad. He can’t miss the exam!"

Even then, she didn't forget to fish out the torn gown pieces from my bag, trying to keep me away from the evidence. That alone made me more suspicious—clearly, something wasn't right.

She rushed off to look for her son. I quietly put the rest of the fabric scraps back in my bag and followed behind her.

We searched for thirty minutes with no sign of Brad. By the time we returned, the examination room had already closed. He had missed the exam.

"Don’t worry too much, Megan," I said softly. "Brad’s grades are excellent. Missing one subject won’t stop him from getting into college."

My tone was gentle, but my eyes held a trace of cold amusement. Now she could finally taste what I had been forced to swallow in my past life.

"How can it be the same?" she snapped. "My son is aiming for Harvard and New York University! He’s supposed to be the top scorer in the entire college entrance exam—how can he miss a subject?"

Her words hit me like a slap.

Top scorer.

That phrase again. She had planned it, both in this life and in the last. All along, she wanted that title—for her son.

I was about to respond, maybe offer some hollow comfort, when a familiar voice interrupted us.

"Did you find Brad?" the man asked anxiously.

I turned, and the moment I saw who it was, my heart sank.

Jordan Herring.

My husband.

The man who vanished when my daughter failed the exam in our past lives. The man who didn’t offer a single word of comfort, claiming he was on a business trip. The man who blamed me.

But now, here he was—rushing to comfort Megan.

She stood up immediately, tears pouring down her face. Without hesitation, she grabbed his hand and cried, as if she had forgotten I was standing right there.

"No... I don’t know where he is. He missed the exam! It’s all ruined!"

"It’s okay. I’ll help look. There’s still time," he said, his voice soft.

I stepped in front of him.

"What are you doing here?"

He finally noticed me, startled. His face flushed red with guilt.

"I... I was just passing by. I heard Brad missed the exam and came to check on him."

I let out a slow, bitter laugh and pulled Megan’s hand off of him.

"Passing by? Didn’t you say earlier you had a business trip and couldn’t accompany your daughter today?"

He hesitated. His mouth opened, then closed. He had no answer.

Something wasn’t right. I felt it deep in my bones. I had overlooked it before, but now... I couldn’t ignore it.

Megan stepped forward and sneered, “What’s the problem, Jackie? Aren’t we family? What’s wrong with your husband caring about my son?”

Jordan wiped the sweat from his forehead and stammered, "I was just worried. She’s your best friend, isn’t she? If it bothers you, I’ll leave."

But Megan began crying harder, as if she were the injured one here.

In that moment, I realized just how blind I had been.

I had given up my career to support my daughter. I handed over the company we built together to this man so he could focus on growing it. I believed he loved me, believed we were a team.

I thought I was lucky.

Now I see—I was just a fool.

“Jackie, the priority now is to find my son. Why are you still hung up on these things?”

Megan snapped at me with irritation, her voice sharp.

I let out a cold laugh. Even if they did find Brad, his dream of becoming the top scorer was already crushed. As for the real relationship between these two—Megan and my husband—I would uncover the truth soon enough.

“You’re right,” I said calmly, looking straight at Jordan. “Jordan, help her look for Brad.”

Relief visibly washed over both their faces. They thought I had dropped my suspicions. Fools.

That afternoon, I took the torn gown fabric to Regina, a trusted friend of mine with a PhD in chemistry. I needed to know what really caused the dress to fall apart in public.

“The lab results will take three days,” Regina said. “Go home and wait. I’ll contact you as soon as they’re ready.”

I nodded, though I could hardly calm my nerves. Something told me that this wasn’t just about a college entrance exam. Megan’s motives ran deeper than a title.

Later, after the exams ended, Megan finally tracked Brad down—holed up in an internet café. Enraged, she slapped him across the face.

“We’ve been looking for you all day! Do you even have a conscience?!”

Brad shouted back, “If you hadn’t embarrassed me like that, I wouldn’t have skipped the exam!”

I watched their pathetic scene unfold from a distance, expressionless. Megan bit her lower lip and shot me a venomous glare. But there was nothing she could do. She had already lost.

What I didn’t expect was how fast the video would spread online.

Someone had recorded her humiliation—her torn dress, her public disgrace—and posted it. It went viral. All over the country, people were talking about the mother who ruined her child’s future by being the laughingstock at the school gates.

I hugged my daughter tightly. She had protected me that day, shielding me from that very shame. Yet even now, the scars of the past hadn’t fully healed.

Then came the moment I knew was inevitable.

Megan barged into my home, eyes blazing with fury. “Jackie, did you tamper with my clothes? Otherwise, how is it that only mine tore when we were wearing the same thing?”

I stared at her. The audacity. After everything she’d done, she still dared to play the victim.

She wasn’t wrong—I had switched the dresses. But compared to what she had planned, mine was an act of self-defense.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Regina.

“Jackie,” she said, “the test results are in. You should come over.”

I rushed to her office after settling my daughter.

She handed me the report.