Chapter 2

The next day, Leo did something unprecedented—he got up early.

For someone who hadn’t stepped into the kitchen in eight years, he actually tied on an apron and personally prepared a table of exquisitely made breakfast dishes.

Ayla sat in the main seat, eating happily. “Leo, you’re so good to me. You even remember this is my favorite flavor.”

“I made your favorite fresh shrimp and mushroom soup. Your health isn’t good—you need nourishment.”

“Mom, eat this one. It’s delicious!” Charlie served her some food.

While the four of them were enjoying themselves, Jackson suddenly called out in my direction, “Mom, you woke up late. Come eat!”

Seeing me approach, Leo cleared his throat. “Sit down. There’s still soup left. Ayla asked me to save some for you.”

I patted Jackson’s head, then sat down.

Ayla immediately filled a bowl, holding it with both hands as she pushed it toward me, her smile flawless. “Olivia, have a taste. Leo’s cooking is really quite good.”

Expressionless, I told Jackson to take it to the pet dog.

Jackson looked confused but did as he was told.

Ayla’s eyes instantly reddened. “Olivia… even if you dislike me, you shouldn’t waste Leo’s effort like this. He got up before dawn to simmer that soup…”

Charlie chimed in from the side, “Yeah, how is a dog worthy of food this good?”

“Enough!” Leo glared at me angrily. “Olivia, I tolerated your madness last night, and now you’re wearing that dead face first thing in the morning. Do you have to make this family restless?”

“Have you forgotten that I have severe gastric ulcers and can’t eat seafood?” My voice was calm, even carrying a hint of mockery.

Leo’s anger suddenly had nowhere to go, and he began making excuses for himself. “Sorry, I’ve been a bit busy lately. It was indeed my oversight.”

When Jackson was one year old, I was hospitalized for three days with acute gastroenteritis. Leo was the one who took care of me.

Since then, he had been especially attentive about my diet.

Yet now, he was angry because I refused to eat something that would make me sick.

How ironic.

Ayla blinked her innocent, wide eyes. “Gastric ulcers aren’t a big deal. If it were me, even if I had to take stomach medicine beforehand, I’d happily finish all of Leo’s thoughtfulness.”

It wasn’t her illness—of course she could speak lightly.

I chuckled softly. “Ayla, do you know Leo is mildly allergic to mushrooms? If he eats too much, red rashes appear on his hands.”

“Ah, Leo, why didn’t you tell me? Are you actually this attentive to me?” Ayla held Leo’s hand. There was not a trace of concern in her eyes—only triumph.

Leo froze for a moment, glanced at me, shook her hand off, and began ladling soup for himself.

He responded, “I just forgot. It’s only a minor allergy.”

When people feel guilty, they pretend to be busy.

I didn’t want to keep watching their melodramatic performance. After casually eating a little, I returned to my room and began focusing on my old profession.

After all, I had been out of touch with fashion design for eight years; inevitably, I was a bit rusty.

But the laughter outside the door was so loud that it was hard for me to concentrate.

Outside, Ayla laughed and asked Charlie, “Charlie, who do you think treats you better… me or Olivia?”

“Of course it’s you, Mom. When I lived here before, Olivia wouldn’t let me eat candy. If I made even a little mess, I’d get scolded. The toys she bought weren’t fun either. I prefer being by Mom’s side…” Charlie blurted out without hesitation.

I may be somewhat strict in raising children, but not to the extent he described.

I knew Charlie had been physically weak since birth and needed more careful care than normal children.

Only then did I realize that all those nights when he had high fevers and I stayed up without sleep, those moments when he was injured during training and I cried in distress—none of it, in his heart, compared to a few meals of junk food and the newest toys.

Or perhaps it was simply because I wasn’t his biological mother.

Ayla pressed a finger to Charlie’s lips, signaling him not to say more.

Ignoring her, Charlie tossed the question to Jackson. “Isn’t that right, Jackson?”

Before Jackson could answer, Charlie continued pressing him. “Look at your mom—she controls you so strictly. Won’t let you do anything.”

After a long silence, Jackson did not disappoint me. “I don’t like candy, and I don’t like toys. I like being clean. I love my mom.”

Charlie clearly hadn’t expected the usually gentle Jackson to retort and immediately became angry out of embarrassment. “Then I won’t let my mom treat you well anymore!”

Ayla let out a fake giggle from the side. “Oh, Charlie, Jackson is just joking. Don’t be so petty.”

Jackson replied, “I’m not joking. I have my own mom to treat me well. I don’t care whether others treat me well or not. Don’t say things like that again.”

Inside the room, I smiled in relief.

Fortunately, my biological son remembers my kindness.

At some point, dark clouds had gathered in the sky outside. A thunderclap exploded, and torrential rain poured down.

Suddenly, I remembered several pots of extremely precious moonlight grass my mother had left on the balcony before she passed away.

I hurried out to bring them in, but the flowers had already been maliciously ruined beyond recognition.

Before I could even grieve, I heard the click of a lock.

The balcony door had been locked from the outside.

“Charlie, open the door!” I pounded desperately on the glass door.

All I could see was Charlie calling out to Ayla outside, “Mom, come look at the drowned rat!”

Ayla pretended not to see me and tapped his head with a smile.

“You little rascal. Come on, Mom will take you to buy the newly released limited-edition Lego.”

“Yay!”

“Oh right, call Jackson too. If no one’s home, he’ll be scared.”

How thoughtful. That way, no one would be left to open the door for me.

They left laughing and chatting, leaving me alone on the balcony in the raging storm.

The rain blurred my vision; I couldn’t tell whether it was rain or tears.

Only when the last petal of moonlight grass was swallowed by the muddy water, and my whole body had turned icy and stiff, did Leo, returning home late, finally discover me.

He opened the door and saw me in a wretched state. His first reaction was not concern, but a frown and a scolding. “Olivia! You’re a grown woman. How could you lock yourself on the balcony?”

I had no strength to reply.

Jackson asked Charlie, “Didn’t you say Mom went out? How is she here?”

Ignoring Jackson, Ayla covered her mouth and played dumb. “Oh my, Olivia, how did you… I thought you had already gone back to your room to rest, so I let Charlie lock the balcony door. I’m sorry…”

Charlie hid behind Ayla and made faces at me.

Leo looked troubled, but he still comforted Ayla. There was not a shred of pity for me.

My lips had turned purple from the cold. Trembling, I reached out, wanting to grab Charlie and demand an explanation.

But Leo suddenly shoved me away. “Haven’t you made enough of a scene? Now you want to scare the child too?! He didn’t do it on purpose.”

Caught off guard, I fell heavily onto the cold floor.

My palm scraped against the ground, sending a burning pain through me.

And Charlie couldn’t hold back his laughter.

In this trial, I—the complete and utter victim—had become the only defendant.