Chapter 3

"Fine!"

I agreed without hesitation, so readily that it made the old woman look at me sideways.

After all, raising a child wasn't like raising a cat or dog. Agreeing instantly without thinking seemed far too casual.

"I knew you were obedient and wouldn't refuse."

"Starting tomorrow, I'm entrusting my precious grandson to your care. If he loses a single hair, I'll pluck you bald."

She seemed convinced that five years had completely tamed me. She quickly dismissed her brief suspicion and, after delivering a pile of threats, went next door again.

Presumably to inform Lauren of the great news that I had agreed to bring the child back to raise.

Watching her light, quick steps, a mocking sneer crossed my lips.

Old hag, if you still have the energy tomorrow to care about whether I've brought your precious grandson back to raise, I'll admit defeat!

Before the next day even arrived, around midnight both my mother-in-law and Lauren couldn't take it anymore and rushed to the emergency room.

After five or six IV drips, both finally returned home at dawn, barely alive.

It wasn't for nothing that I worried the expired lobster and shrimp wouldn't be potent enough---I had specifically added two extra tablets of the bisacodyl my mother-in-law took for constipation.

I had to take care of my mother-in-law and couldn't spare time for the baby.

Lauren had drunk more and her symptoms were more severe than my mother-in-law's, so Sebastian had to take the baby away to care for it.

Sebastian had no idea how to care for a child. In less than a day, he was calling my mother-in-law to complain.

He said the baby cried all day and he couldn't soothe it. He wanted to send the baby back to Lauren's place and have me bring it back to care for it as they had discussed.

My mother-in-law usually went on and on about her "precious grandson," but now she flatly refused.

"No way. I'm having dozens of bowel movements a day and can't be left alone. If the baby comes back, how will Claire have the energy to take care of me?"

"Just hold on a bit longer. We'll talk about it when I'm better."

I laughed out loud through the screen. When it came to her own wellbeing, the old woman wouldn't care even about her own son, let alone her grandson.

Sebastian didn't give up and continued to plead pitifully.

My mother-in-law didn't soften or agree. Instead, she started complaining:

"Don't beg me. Speaking of which, this is all your fault. Look at what kind of women you've chosen! One is so greedy she wants lobster and shrimp right after giving birth, and the other is so stupid she can't even handle seafood properly."

"Not only does it mean you, a grown man, have to take care of the baby alone, but I nearly lost my life because of it."

"If you hadn't embezzled money from the company account to gamble and lost so much you couldn't repay it, I never would have agreed to you faking your death, and we wouldn't have all this trouble today."

She didn't suspect me of sabotage---she simply believed I was too stupid to handle seafood properly.

My attention wasn't on that comment, but on her last sentence.

Embezzled company money to gamble, and lost so much he couldn't repay it?

So that was the real reason Sebastian faked his death.

No wonder after his death, his direct supervisor Mr. Reed came to the funeral and tactfully asked me many questions about his accounts.

At the time, I was drowning in grief and self-blame and hadn't realized it at all.

When a person dies, debts die with them.

Sebastian knew I cared about gestures, yet deliberately provoked me on Valentine's Day with a $10 transfer, using my hand to fake his death and escape his debts.

It turned out that in his heart, I was just a tool for him to evade debt and fake his death.

From beginning to end, he never once considered that as his wife, if I pushed my husband downstairs to his death over a $10 transfer, how much psychological pressure I would endure afterward, how many contemptuous looks I would face from the world.

The more I thought about it, the more I felt like I'd fallen into an ice cellar, as if a huge hole had been carved in my chest. Cold wind from all directions blew through the opening, devoid of any warmth.

I involuntarily crouched down, hugging myself tightly into a ball, as if this could block out the external cold and give myself a little more warmth.