Chapter 3

After handling the last of her things at the villa, Harriet dragged her exhausted body back to Douglas Villa.

She didn't want to return. But she had to deal with Theo's accident.

For the driver to be released on bail so quickly—powerful forces were at work. She thought of her father, Heath Douglas, a man of high position who treated her like a stranger.

Perhaps only he could pressure the authorities to ensure justice.

Stepping into the Douglas Villa garden, alienation hit her like a wall. Everywhere were traces of another mother and son. Even the swing had been replaced with one sized for a child.

Her gaze froze on the trash can in the corner.

Scattered beside it were pieces of pottery.

Her heart seized. She stumbled forward.

Theo's clay cups—the ones he'd made last year for her and her mother. Imperfectly fired, with crude drawings labeled "Mommy" and "Grandma." Her mother had given them a dismissive glance before tossing them into storage.

Harriet never imagined they'd be discarded here like garbage.

What made her blood freeze: Kenna's son, Zane, was standing over those broken pieces, pulling down his pants to urinate on them.

He giggled. "Ugly junk! So gross!"

"Stop!" Harriet's eyes blazed red. She lunged forward and shoved the child away with all her strength.

Zane fell, wailing.

"What happened?" Kenna rushed out, scooped up her crying son, and turned on Harriet with venom. "Harriet! What's wrong with you? Why did you push Zane?"

"What was he doing to my son's belongings?" Harriet pointed at the urine-soaked fragments, her whole body trembling. "Those are things Theo left behind!"

Kenna glanced at the mess. No remorse. Only contempt. "It's trash. What's the big deal? Ugly things made by a sick little brat—worth this much fuss?"

Then she lifted her high-heeled foot and stomped down hard.

The fragile pottery crumbled into mud. The blurred image of "Grandma" crushed into the dirt.

Something inside Harriet snapped completely.

Eyes bloodshot, she raised her hand to slap Kenna across the face.

A flash of calculation flickered in Kenna's eyes. The instant before contact, she jerked backward, crying out, tears appearing on command. "Harriet! Why are you hitting me? I know you hate me, but Zane is just a child!"

Almost simultaneously, Heath, his wife Amara Cooper, and Julian—who'd apparently also arrived—all hurried out.

"Harriet! What do you think you're doing?" Heath barked. Amara rushed to help Kenna up. "How could you lay a hand on your sister?"

Julian's gaze landed on Harriet's twisted, pale face. Disgust filled his eyes.

Kenna cried pitifully. "Harriet, if you're angry, take it out on me. Don't scare my Zane... You have everything. Why are you still trying to take Mom and Dad away from me?"

"I have everything?" Harriet stared at the scene before her—cold father, biased mother, husband protecting someone else. She laughed.

"Kenna, who's taking from whom? From childhood—my toys, my room, my parents' attention—what haven't you stolen? Now you're stealing my husband. Where do you get the nerve?" She stepped forward, each word bleeding, years of suppressed emotion erupting. "Who's really hurting whose child?"

Kenna seemed startled by the hatred in her eyes. Clutching Zane, she stepped back. Her high heel caught, and with a cry, she toppled backward.

"Watch out!" Julian rushed forward, catching Kenna and her son.

He looked up at Harriet, eyes ice-cold. "Have you made enough of a scene? Shoving a child, attacking Kenna—you've disappointed me beyond words."

"Bad person! You pushed me! You tried to hit my mom!" Zane broke free, crying as he rushed at Harriet, pounding her legs with his fists.

The ground was slippery with urine. Zane lost his footing and fell, scraping his knee. His cries grew louder.

"Harriet! You won't even spare a child?" Kenna shrieked.

"Wicked girl!" Heath and Amara's faces turned livid. Everyone blamed Harriet.

Julian picked up the sobbing Zane, his gaze dropping to absolute zero. "I never imagined your heart was so malicious. I'm utterly disappointed in you."

Harriet bit her lip and lowered her head. The cold wind cut through her thin frame. Tears fell, splashing into Theo's clay fragments, but she made no sound.

"Enough!" Heath's voice rang out. "What are you really here for?"

Harriet wiped her face with the back of her hand. "Theo... was in a car accident."

The garden fell silent.

Kenna lifted her head from Amara's embrace, lips curving. "To get attention, you'd lie about something like this?"

"I'm not lying!" Harriet's voice rose. She locked eyes with Julian. "Your son—he's dead! He died on the way to your office to find you!"

Julian stared at her, warmth dropping to freezing. "To achieve your goals, you'd even curse your own child?"

Two flames ignited in her hollow eyes. "I'm not lying!"

She screamed, "Theo is really dead! Go check with the traffic police! Check with the crematorium! Go check!"

"Enough!" Julian shouted. He pulled out his phone and turned the screen toward her.

A text thread with Theo. For years, every holiday, a greeting from that child. He never replied. Rarely opened them. Only found them annoying.

But on the screen, ten minutes ago, a new message had appeared.

[Dad, take care of yourself.]

Harriet's eyes went wide. She lunged forward, but Julian coldly pulled his phone away.

Heath—watching from the side—seemed to understand. "Harriet! Is this because the driver was released on bail? So you fabricated this lie about your son being killed?"

He shook his head. "You want me to abuse my power? I will never—especially not for you—disrespect the law!"

Harriet stared at her father's righteous face. The world collapsed.

She let out a low laugh, trembling, filled with despair.

Julian watched her, and for some reason, his chest tightened.

But Kenna linked her arm through his with concern, pulling him back. He suppressed that flicker of emotion, his gaze hardening.

"You've lost your mind." Julian's voice was icy. "Someone like you—full of lies, with such a twisted heart—you don't deserve to be a mother."

Harriet stopped laughing. Slowly straightened.

Tears still streaked her face, but her eyes locked onto Julian. "You're the one who's blind. You can't tell right from wrong. You're biased and gullible. You don't deserve to be a husband. And you certainly don't deserve to be a father. My Theo... he waited for you until the very end."

Her gaze swept over Heath and Amara, over Kenna in Julian's arms, over the crying Zane, and settled on Julian's suddenly rigid face.

"You people," she said slowly. "You disgust me."

She spun around and stumbled toward the gate.

Julian stood frozen. Her words nailed him in place.

Instinctively, he pressed a hand to his chest.

Why did it feel tight?