Chapter 4

I ended the call without hesitation, cutting off George's commanding tone mid-sentence.

I could already picture the shock on his face—and the fury that would follow.

Because in his eyes, and in the eyes of every member of the Smith family, no matter how vicious our fights became, I was always the one to cave first.

They were probably waiting to see when I'd come crawling back home this time.

What they would never understand was that the moment I plunged from the seventeenth floor—the moment Milly’s blood seeped warm between my fingers—that meek, desperate Grace, the one who begged for scraps of affection, had died.

My phone was unusually quiet, not ringing constantly like in my previous life.

I held sleeping Milly tighter in my arms. Her breathing was steady and peaceful, which put me at ease.

Later, I heard scattered reports of the chaos that erupted at the Smith family villa that night.

Jack didn't get the cake that could ease his allergies. His whole body was itchy, and he threw a tantrum, smashing everything in sight and even struck the servants.

Sarah, probably trying to prove she was more capable than me, actually suggested taking him to a flying club to fly a real plane.

This suggestion instantly ignited Jack's enthusiasm.

In his eyes, Sarah was an angel showing him the world, while I became the evil woman restricting his freedom.

He had long forgotten that when he was little, he looked down from the second-floor railing at the mall and turned pale, vomited, and passed out.

The doctor diagnosed severe acrophobia and warned that high-altitude stimulation had to be avoided at all costs.

Years of restrictions were to protect him, but he saw me as an evil woman who just didn't want him to have fun.

Before they left, Jack actually used Sarah's phone to send me a voice message. His childish voice dripped with spite: “Bad woman! I hate you! Sarah’s taking me to fly a plane! The farther you stay away, the better!”

I listened calmly, then deleted it and blocked the number.

From now on, my world would only have room for people who deserved to be in it.

The next day, I took Milly to her new kindergarten. She was bouncing with joy, her eyes sparkling again.

Passing by Central Park, the big screen was showing news of the successful test flight of the Phosphorus-100 passenger plane.

The silver-gray fuselage traced a beautiful arc across the blue sky with an unstoppable force.

I stopped in my tracks, staring upward in a daze.

That blue sky used to be my entire dream.

"Mommy!" Milly tugged at my hand, her little face full of wonder. "Big airplane! So cool! The lady flying the plane is so awesome!"

My daughter's words were like a key, opening the floodgates of memory.

I remembered my focused hours in the flight simulator, the approving nod of my instructor, the wild, giddy joy when I received my medical clearance, and then—the heart-wrenching pain when I personally submitted my withdrawal application because George said he needed a stable home.

I gave up my dream of becoming a pilot, confined myself to a tiny space, and in the end had nothing left to show for it.

"Mommy," Milly looked up at me, her eyes bright, "will you fly such a big plane someday? I love how you look when you fly planes!"

Milly's words snapped me back to reality.

Living a second life, I wanted to fulfill my dream and become my daughter's pride!

I wanted her to know that her mother could be strong, could soar through the skies.

Over the next few days, I worked tirelessly to prepare.

I dug out dusty professional books and researched recruitment information from every airline I could find.

Finally, I found an airline recruiting cadets for career change pilot training.

On the day of the interview, I wore a crisp shirt and pants, my long hair tied back neatly, holding Milly's hand as I walked into the interview location.

I needed this opportunity, and I also wanted Milly to see her mother fighting hard for her dreams.

The interview went smoothly.

My grasp of aviation, professional knowledge, and the composure I had gained since my rebirth all left a good impression on the panel

Just as I walked out of the interview room holding Milly's hand, I heard a hesitant male voice: "Grace?"

I turned to see a man in a pilot's uniform, standing tall with a look of pleasant surprise on his face.

"William Jones?" I recognized him.

A classmate from the flight training center. We were in the same simulator group.

Time had been kind to him, only stripping away his youthfulness and adding maturity.

"It really is you!" His smile was bright, his gaze pausing briefly on Milly before returning to my face. "I saw your information and thought it was just someone with the same name. You're here for an interview?"

"Yes," I nodded frankly. "Trying to see if I can still fly."

"Looks like the interviewers were very satisfied." His eyes showed approval. "Don't just stand here. Let me take you to the exhibition hall next door. It's been a while since you've been around this stuff, right?"

I didn't refuse.

Because he was right. I needed to refamiliarize myself with this sky.

The exhibition hall displayed various aircraft models.

William led me to a model of the Phospherus-100, his tone serious. "Honestly, I'm really happy to see you coming back. That flight control algorithm you wrote back then—our instructor later refined it and used it in some test projects. It played a key role. Your talent was never meant to be buried.”

I was stunned. I never imagined that something I'd scribbled down years ago would have such a legacy.

He looked at me intently. "Our training center really needs instructors with potential, and even more so, talented people like you with ideas."

"Grace, come back. This blue sky has always had a place for you."

His words stirred ripples in my heart.

He paused, looking at Milly standing obediently beside me, his tone cautious. "But the initial training is very intensive, often requires long postings away from home. May I ask—are you planning to have a second child? That might affect future arrangements."

I met his gaze, clear and firm. "No, I'm getting divorced soon."

I felt Milly squeeze my hand tighter, and I squeezed back. "I came for this interview because I want to come back completely, for myself and for my daughter, to fly again."

William visibly relaxed, his smile genuine. "That's great! Then..."

His words were interrupted by an urgent phone ringtone.

I took it out and saw the servant's number flashing on the screen.

After a moment's hesitation, I answered.

The servant's voice immediately came through, tearful yet self-righteous:

"Mrs. Smith! Something happened to young master Jack! He fell from the high platform next to the flight simulator, hit his head, and there was so much blood! The doctor says he needs an emergency blood transfusion! You need to come and donate right away!"

"I already told you not to contact me about Jack's matters," my voice was calm. "You should notify George and Sarah. They're his biological parents."

"Mrs. Smith!" The servant's tone suddenly became shrill. "I know you're having a fight with Mr. Smith, but the child is innocent! You’ve always loved Jack the most, haven’t you? Now his life is in danger. How can you bear not to help?"