Chapter 2

When I got home, my mom, Eleanor, was in the kitchen making soup.

When my dad was younger, he was busy with work, had an irregular diet, and developed serious stomach problems—he even had two stomach surgeries.

My mom felt bad for him. A woman who'd never even boiled an egg started cooking just for him.

She made slow-cooked soups, healing porridges, and medicinal dishes...

She carefully nursed his stomach back to almost full health—about 80%.

For as long as I could remember, that had been going on for nearly ten years.

In two days, it would be Mom and Dad's 20th wedding anniversary.

Yet this was when I found out my dad was cheating.

Watching her busy in the kitchen, my anger turned to deep sadness, and I couldn't hold back my tears anymore.

She was in her forties but kept her figure well, with firm skin that made her look closer to thirty.

Only her hands told a different story—slightly enlarged knuckles, thin calluses on her palms, and a few faint white scars on the backs of her hands.

She used to love getting manicures, but later, she found it got in the way of cooking, so she quit altogether.

I walked into the kitchen and gently hugged her from behind.

She jumped, then smiled and teased me:

"You're home? You're almost in high school, acting like a little kid."

"Come on, get out of here. It's smoky, and I'm busy."

When I didn't move, she sensed something was wrong. She turned around and immediately saw my tear-streaked face, her expression instantly tensing up.

"What's wrong? Why are you crying? Didn't you go for your physical? Didn't Dad go with you? Let me ask him..."

She started to reach for her phone.

I grabbed her wrist, shaking my head hard.

"Don't call him!"

Mom froze, looking at me anxiously, waiting for me to explain.

I squeezed my eyes shut, my throat tight.

"Dad... he's cheating."

"Her name is Summer Davis. She used to be his secretary."

I moved stiffly, my fingers shaking a little as I pulled my tablet out of my bag.

The screen lit up, showing the information Mr. Davison, my grandfather's assistant, had helped me dig up.

The screen light made Mom's face look pale.

I swiped through the pages, showing her everything one by one.

"She and Dad started seeing each other not long after she joined the company. That was... right when you got pregnant with me."

"Less than six months later, she left the company because she was pregnant. Dad bought her a luxury penthouse in a high-end building near our house, and it's in her name."

"While you were swollen and struggling to sleep in your third trimester, he was making her special prenatal meals over there; while you were fighting for your life during a difficult labor in the hospital, he was massaging her, walking with her to ease her pain."

"While you were recovering from your C-section in the hospital, he was at that woman's prenatal appointments, even telling her to walk more so she wouldn't have to go through a C-section later."

"Mom, that other daughter is only six months younger than me. He cheated on you *while you were pregnant*."

I cried as I spoke, tears splashing onto the tablet screen, leaving small wet streaks.

Mom stared blankly at the words and photos, her eyes slowly reddening with tears.

"How could this be...?"

"Twenty years... dating, marriage, twenty years. How could he...?"

I hugged her tightly, took a deep breath, and kept going.

"Mom, remember when I was little, the house fire?"

She nodded, her voice getting even hoarser.

"Of course I remember. I was on a business trip then. Your dad was juggling work while taking care of you, and when he turned around, you'd set the curtains on fire... He risked his life to save you. He was terrified afterward, watching over you in the hospital, saying if anything happened to you, he wouldn't want to live either."

"After you got out of the ICU, he was so anxious. He followed you everywhere, often waking up in the middle of the night to check on you. He kept telling me it was all his fault... Back then, I thought he really loved you and cared about our family."

As she spoke, there was a bitter edge to her words.

I kept scrolling, pausing my finger on a section of the investigation report.

"What if I told you that fire wasn't an accident at all?"

"He thought I was asleep and was rushing to see them—Summer and Chloe. He threw an unextinguished cigarette butt into the trash can."

"The window was open, the wind blew the curtain in, and it caught fire. He locked me in the room... I couldn't save myself."

"He didn't save me either. A neighbor noticed the fire and called the police. Firefighters broke down the door, carried me out, and took me to the hospital. He... only showed up much later."

"I was only a few years old then, and I was drifting in and out of consciousness, so I couldn't remember exactly what happened."

"Did you think he stayed by my side that whole time because he loved me? He was scared I might suddenly remember and tell you the truth... scared you'd get mad and he'd lose access to Grandpa Harrison's resources and connections."

My eyes stung, burning with a mix of injustice and fury.

All the happiness I thought I'd had was actually a carefully constructed lie.

The built-up unfairness hit its breaking point, turning into pure anger.

I hated him for lying to Mom, and even more for giving me this fake love all these years like it was some kind of charity.

What were we to him, really?

But looking at Mom's face, only heartache was left.

She was the one who'd been hurt the most.

I wanted to say more, but my phone suddenly rang.

It was the hospital.

"Hello, is this Hazel Anderson? Some of your physical exam results need retesting. Please have a parent bring you back to the hospital for a detailed examination as soon as possible."

I paused, trying to keep my voice steady.

"Okay, I understand."

As soon as I hung up, both my mom's and my phones vibrated almost at the same time.

The message to me said:

[The hospital called, said you need a recheck. Dad will take you the day after tomorrow.]

The message to Mom said:

[Honey, that French designer you like is having a private collection exhibit next week. A friend gave me two invitation-only tickets. It's the day after tomorrow afternoon. You should go, clear your head.]

The day after tomorrow was exactly when I was supposed to have my recheck at the hospital.

He'd deliberately sent Mom away, planning to take me alone...

Mom and I exchanged a look. Neither of us said anything.

I really wanted to see his face when his elaborate scheme fell apart.