"Ella, I’m a father. You don’t have children, so you can’t possibly understand what that means. I can’t just turn my back on them; it’s my responsibility."

After saying that, he rose to his feet, casting me a silent glance before adding, "Ella, I know this is hard for you to accept right now, and that’s okay. Just take your time. I still hope you can come to terms with it. After all, they carry my blood. I can’t abandon them."

With that, he called the relatives and friends outside, leaving me alone on the sofa, slumped in quiet defeat.

I reached for a bottle of liquor, leaned back, and drank in silence.

Moments later, my phone lit up, a message from the private investigator. Photos and videos loaded onto my screen.

A cold chuckle slipped from my lips as I clicked on them.

Ever since the truth surfaced, my mother-in-law and the others had stopped pretending. They openly walked in and out of hotels and amusement parks, no longer caring who saw them. The investigator had caught it all.

There were photos of the five of them dining at a restaurant, of Hayden and Eulalie, playing games with the children, of them escorting the kids to extracurricular classes together, like a perfect little family.

They were just ordinary family photos, yet my eyes burned as if seared by invisible flames.

If my father’s spirit could see this from the afterlife, he would have slapped me across the face and called me a fool.

But he was gone. He had passed away a year ago from late-stage liver cancer.

Before he died, he held my hand tightly, his voice weak yet firm. He told me to live well, not to burden myself with pressure, and that if life became too hard, I could always adopt a child.

I thought I had already cried every tear I had to shed. But, staring at that picture-perfect reunion, my vision blurred once more.

How could he do this to me after everything I had sacrificed for him?

And his mother, how could she?

Even when the furniture factory struggled, I never once cut off her monthly allowance of twenty thousand dollars. She had claimed she needed it for therapy and health supplements, citing anemia and heart problems.

At dawn, I called the relocation team.

“I agree to invest the compensation funds into the financial management fund. I’ll come by later to sign the papers."

By the time Hayden returned, I was already drunk, my face streaked with tears.

He helped me lie down, his touch laced with guilt, wiping my face gently with a warm towel.

The scent of “Mysterious Royal Jelly” cologne clung to him, turning my stomach.

So, he had spent the night with them, and under the roof, I had paid for his mother.

Hayden fed me warm water, cradling my head as he whispered, “I’m sorry” over and over, his breath brushing against my hair.

For a fleeting moment, it felt like I had gone back ten years, back to when my father had stood firmly against us, and we were struggling to survive in a damp basement apartment.

Life had been cruel back then. My father had severed all financial support, vowing that I would never marry a pretty-faced man with no future.

We had survived on cold steamed buns and instant noodles, but back then, Hayden had truly loved me.

He never once complained, never wavered, always by my side as we chased down orders, doing whatever it took to get by.

And whenever we had something decent to eat, he would always save it for me.

I remember a night after one of his performances, someone gave him a chicken drumstick.

He had tucked it into his coat pocket, keeping it hidden for an entire day. Then, when night fell, he pulled it out with a grin, holding it up to me.

"Eat quickly," he had said, his eyes full of warmth.

That night, after I had eaten my fill, he had held me close and wept, blaming himself for dragging me down. His voice trembled as he begged me to leave him behind, to go home and never look back.

Now, I clung to Hayden, my voice barely above a whisper.

"Hayden, let them go, okay? We can still support them financially, but please… don’t see them anymore. Please?"

His entire body tensed. He froze.

Reality struck me like a slap. The haze of alcohol lifted.

I pushed myself up, stepping away from the bed, my lips curling into a bitter smile as I stared at him.

"Why?" My voice cracked. "Why didn’t you come to me when you wanted children?"

I looked at him, my heart splintering under the weight of betrayal.

"Hayden, how could you be so cruel to me?"

The pain clawed at my chest, raw and unbearable. My fist slammed against the glass cabinet. The sound of shattering glass filled the room as shards scattered in every direction. A sharp sting shot through my hand, and crimson drops began trailing down my fingers.

For days, I buried myself in work, handling the relocation of the furniture factory.

That day, just as I concluded negotiations on a merger with Mr. Ashford, my phone rang.

It was Hayden.

I opened the message without emotion.

[Ella, come home tonight. I have something to discuss with you.]

Knowing this conversation was inevitable, I typed a single-word reply.

[Okay.]

When I pushed open the door, I stopped short, my breath catching.

For a moment, I thought I had walked into the wrong house.

The crystal chandeliers and wall sconces bathed the room in warm light. An anime played softly in the living room, where three little boys laughed between bites of snacks.

The dining table was covered with steaming dishes, the air thick with the rich scent of red wine. In the center sat a towering three-tiered cake, its candles flickering. A bouquet of roses, fresh, vibrant, almost too perfect, rested beside it.

Hayden approached with a bright smile, effortlessly taking my bag from my hands.

"Ella, you’re back. Everything’s ready. We were just waiting for you to start dinner."

Noticing my frozen expression, he placed a hand on my back, gently guiding me toward the table.

"Today is the triplets' birthday. I thought this would be a good chance for you to meet them, to bond with them." His voice was light and casual, as if it were normal like this wasn’t ripping me apart.

"So, I arranged a little celebration at home."

Then, he called out, "Diego, Mateo, Bruno, come meet Aunt Ella. After you greet her later, she'll officially be your godmother."

I froze. This wasn’t just an introduction; it was a trap.

The three children barely spared me a glance, their attention fixed on the glowing anime projection. Only after Hayden coaxed them did they reluctantly shuffle over, dragging their feet.

I studied them, searching for something, anything, that resembled Hayden. But their round faces, small eyes, and short, chubby figures bore no trace of him. Especially their expressions, impatience, irritability, and complete uninterest. They carried none of the sharp, striking features he had in his youth.

The tallest boy eyed me with blatant disdain.

"So, you're Ella? You're really ugly, not even close to how pretty my mom is."

I barely had time to process the words before he turned, frowning.

"Mom, is this really the godmother you found for us? I don’t want her. She’s old and ugly."

The other two pouted in agreement.

"If Big Brother doesn’t want her, neither do I. Going out with her would be embarrassing. She dresses so poorly."

Hayden immediately covered the boy’s mouth, his voice firm but coaxing.

"Diego, don’t be rude. Have you forgotten what Dad told you? If you call her godmother, she’ll buy you big toy cars, a big house, and more toys than you can count."

Then, he turned to me, his expression calm, too calm.

"Ella, since the kids are willing to accept you as their godmother, it’s only fair you show some sincerity. I think three million per child from the relocation compensation sounds reasonable, plus another million for a four-bedroom apartment for Eulalie."

"Money is just an external thing. You don’t have children of your own, so sooner or later, it will all go to them anyway. If you win them over now, when you’re old, they’ll take care of you. I’m doing this for your own good."

The tallest boy, clearly the eldest, rolled his eyes before sighing dramatically.

"Mom said you don’t have kids, and that’s just pathetic. We’ll barely accept you as our godmother but don’t be stingy. You have to treat us well. Otherwise, when you’re old, I’ll make you pick up trash and lock you in a dark room to eat leftovers."

Hayden nodded approvingly.

"My son’s got a point. If their godmother treats them well, of course, they’ll return the favor, right?"

"Don’t worry, your godfather has money. Whatever they want, just let me know."

As he spoke, he grabbed my arm, his grip firm, his gaze full of unspoken meaning.

I sneered and shoved him away.

"Who said I wanted to take them as my godsons? Toy cars? Houses? Where’s your real mother? Why isn’t she buying them for you? What’s the point of dragging an outsider into this?"

The eldest’s face twisted with rage. Without warning, he slammed his head into my stomach, his tiny fists pounding against me.

"How dare you talk about my mom! You’re old and stingy; you deserve to be childless!"

"Asking you to buy us a house was just out of pity. Who’d want an ugly freak like you as a godmother?"

The other two sprang forward, clawing at my clothes, their voices sharp with childish cruelty.

"We don’t want you here, ugly freak! Get out!"

Although there were only ten boys, the strength of the boys was startling. Each punch to my stomach sent sharp waves of pain coursing through me. I gritted my teeth, grabbing their arms in an attempt to pry them off.

Yet, they kicked and thrashed with relentless force, their small bodies fueled by unchecked rage. Even Hayden couldn’t rein them in.

Then, a sudden, vicious kick struck my knee. A searing pain exploded through my body.

Overwhelmed, I instinctively flung the boy away. A loud thud followed by a sharp "ouch" filled the air; the eldest had crashed headfirst into the coffee table.

For a moment, there was silence.

Then, ear-splitting cries shattered the room.

Clutching my knee, I hunched forward, reaching out to help him. Before I could, a shriek rang out from the kitchen.

My mother-in-law came rushing in. The moment her eyes landed on her grandson’s bleeding forehead, she wailed and threw herself at him, her voice cracking as she sobbed, “My precious baby! My poor, poor baby!”

Seeing the crimson streak trailing down his forehead, guilt gnawed at me. Just as I parted my lips to speak, another figure emerged from the kitchen.

It was my first time seeing Eulalie.

She looked just as she did in the videos: graceful and poised, the image of refined elegance from head to toe.

Instinctively, I glanced down at myself, factory-issued sportswear, scuffed gray sneakers, and a face worn thin from endless exhaustion and sleepless nights.

A bitter taste crept into my throat, spreading through my chest like a slow burn.

Eulalie’s eyes landed on the blood trickling down her son’s forehead. Without hesitation, she gathered him into her arms, her hands trembling as she checked him.

“Mom, it was her! She pushed me! She used so much force!” the eldest boy cried, his sobs shaking his small frame.

Eulalie tightened her hold on him, then turned her gaze on me, cold, sharp, unforgiving.

“Sister Ella, how could you lay hands on a child? Just because you’ve never been a mother and don’t understand maternal love doesn’t mean you have to be so heartless.”

Then, she turned to Hayden, her voice laced with sorrow.

“Brother Hayden, I know your sister has never liked us. That’s why, as you wished, I never set foot in Austin City. All I ever wanted was to raise my children properly. I never had any intention of taking you away from anyone.”

"You told me to bring the children here today because she agreed. I was so happy, thinking we could finally be a family. But I never expected her to treat Diego like this..." Eulalie’s voice trembled with suppressed hurt.

"Brother Hayden, I’ll take the kids and leave. I won’t live under someone else’s roof, always walking on eggshells. And I certainly won’t let my children be mistreated."

Without another word, she picked up Diego, grabbed Mateo and Bruno by the hands, and turned on her heel.

Hayden’s face paled. Panic surged through him as he lunged forward, desperation laced in his voice.

"Eulalie, don’t go! I won’t let you leave! This is your home, your children’s home! Where else would you go?"

His voice cracked as he clung to her retreating figure. "I promise, what happened today will never happen again! No one will ever mistreat you again!"

Then, without warning, he yanked me forward and shoved me in front of Eulalie.

"Ella, apologize to Diego right now! Tell him you didn’t mean it! Say it!" His fingers dug into my arm, his grip tight and unyielding.

"And you have to promise Eulalie that you’ll treat the children as your own from now on. You must never lay a hand on them again!"