"I need a nap. Drive me to the studio later."

As I awoke, I was greeted by Laura's demanding voice.

That was just a few hours ago.

None of it had happened yet.

And I was relieved.

I knew the real reason Laura miscarried.

It was because of her fling—the doctor's orders were clear, and they didn't make mistakes.

At the studio, after I left, she and the photographer were getting cozy. By the time I returned, just the two of them were there, enough said.

If she's going to blame it all on me, she's got another thing coming.

"I need to handle some internship stuff this afternoon. Can we do the shoot tomorrow?"

My refusal clearly pissed her off; she hurled whatever she could grab onto the floor.

"Every day with you! Can I count on you for anything? Can't even drive me around. Tired of babysitting me, huh? Just wait till Jason gets home—I'll tell him all about it."

Watching her strut around, all puffed up, I just smirked inwardly.

"Or maybe I should just call Jason to take you?"

I taunted her, flashing my phone with a grin.

Just bringing up the photoshoot had darkened Jason's mood earlier.

If she thought sneaking off was risky, asking Jason to drive her was outright suicidal.

She knew all too well what his temper was like.

Otherwise, in my past life, she wouldn't have been desperately pleading with me after losing the baby, nearly breaking down.

"You dare sass me? I'm calling Jason right now to deal with you!"

Laura threatened, reaching for her phone.

She'd often used this tactic to bully me.

My fear of Jason was deep-seated, a remnant from childhood that wasn't going away anytime soon.

Even though death had lost its sting for me, that ingrained fear was stubborn.

Despite my internal panic, I kept my cool outwardly.

I leisurely finished my soup, looked her straight in the eye, and said, "Go ahead, make the call. I'm heading out after."

I caught the surprise on her face; she hesitated, and seeing this, I grabbed my bag and left.

I knew Laura's determination; if she decided to go today, she would.

My task now was to figure out how to expose her.

If I involved Jason and his temper flared up, I'd likely get dragged into the fallout.

That left one option: Mom.

Afraid of getting caught in the drama, Mom had dipped out after lunch.

In my previous life, she had coldly watched everything Jason did to me.

This time around, if I didn't drag her into this mess, I wouldn't be her daughter.

Since she'd slipped out, she wouldn't answer her phone. The only way was to confront her in person.

With no time to waste, I headed straight for the community's card room.

Upon arrival, Mom was there, puffing on a cigarette and shuffling the poker cards, looking quite pleased—probably on a winning streak.

"Mom, quit playing. You haven't eaten all day. Let me treat you to something nice!"

My sudden appearance surprised her.

"What? Eat? Sounds like you're burning money. Hand it over—now."

She grabbed my arm, her tone dripping with displeasure.

I brushed off her grip, still smiling.

"Let's go, Mom. It's my friend's place, and he said we'd get half off."

Mom's stinginess was legendary, matched only by her love for a good deal.

Her two greatest passions: playing cards and snagging bargains.

She loved exploiting deals, and if she lost a game, she'd refuse to pay; if she won, she'd even chase down others to collect.

This tendency has led to numerous altercations over the years.

At the mention of a 50% discount, she tossed her bad hand and got up to leave.

"Cheaper than groceries, and I'm starving. Let's move!"

I apologized to the others at the table and hurried after her.

I had chosen a place right across from the studio, a barbecue restaurant, and secured a window seat ahead of time.

After stashing the car in a back alley, I returned to find Mom had ordered an entire table of barbecue.

She ordered everything on the menu.

She never hesitated to spend my money, always more the merrier.

She had commandeered every dime of my scholarship for the past three years with one excuse or another.

Complaints on my part were always met with a barrage of insults.

Either accusations of ingratitude, labeling me an ungrateful child, or feigned anger to extort more from me.

Mom dug in with gusto, shoveling the barely cooked meat into her mouth as if in a race.

Meanwhile, I kept a vigilant watch out the window.

Roughly thirty minutes later, a flashy pink Mini Cooper parked below.

That was definitely her best friend's car—no one else would choose that color.

Her friend was well-known for being the life of the party. Jason had forbidden Laura from seeing her, and they hadn't met for a long time.

Laura had brought her here not just for the photos but also to frame me.

Jason's main worry about the photo shoot was the risk to the baby. If everything turned out okay, he wouldn't have much to complain about.

When he'd ask about it later, she could easily pin it on me, claiming she had no choice but to call her friend since I refused to drive her.

What awaited me then would be at least a couple of slaps and a few days grounded.

When it comes to schemes and malice, no one in this house could top Laura.

Holding a cup of juice, I glanced towards the photo studio across the street.

"Mom, Aunt Linda's photoshoot looked fabulous, and you'd definitely outshine her. The studio's right across. How about we get you a session after lunch? My treat."

Mom paused with her fork in the air, glanced at the studio, then self-consciously patted her belly, her face showing a flicker of annoyance.

"Why on earth didn't you say so sooner? If I'd known we were doing photos today, I wouldn't have pigged out!"

"And stop comparing me to that blimp, Linda. Do those photos even look like her? She's built like a tank but looks like a princess in them. Modern tech is just too much."

Mom had been harboring resentment over Linda's glamorous photos for some time now.

She would have gone for a shoot herself if Jason hadn't banned Laura from going, fearing Laura would use it as an excuse to create drama.

"Waiter, we haven't touched these two steaks. Please take them back and refund the cash directly to me."

Normally, you can't return food once served, but Mom's not your typical diner. Two decades ago, she could hustle her way through anything.

Arguments were a daily routine for her; a restaurant that didn't comply would seriously regret it.

Recognizing they were dealing with a formidable character, the staff reluctantly refunded the money.

Mom pocketed the cash, a look of triumph spreading across her face.

It wasn't just about scaring off the restaurant; it was about prying a few extra dollars from my wallet.

Entering the studio, I made a beeline for the restroom, using it as an excuse to sneak upstairs.

I intended to quietly check on Laura's activities, but right as I reached the third floor, I bumped into two makeup artists coming down.

"Can you believe it? Openly flirting right in front of us, and with three of them? How's he managing that?"

"He's playing with fire; we'd better be careful not to get dragged down with him."

They clammed up when they saw me on the stairs.

I overheard their whispers as they continued down—salacious and thrilling.

It seemed Laura and her friend had ramped up the stakes this time around.

I sneaked into a nearby room, aiming to secretly record them.

But when I pulled back the curtain, I was gobsmacked.