Chapter 3
Harry looked at himself in the mirror, feeling a bit self-conscious.
But when the salesperson suggested he try on something else, he lingered, unwilling to change out of them.
I crouched down and told him, "Harry, if you like something, you have to say it out loud. Otherwise, how will anyone know you want it?"
"But before, Mommy... I mean, Imelda said I shouldn't ask grown-ups for things. She said that wouldn't be good," Harry replied.
I pretended to be hurt. "Oh, really? At home you always say you'll listen to me. Have you changed your mind?"
Harry quickly waved his hands. "No, Mom, I just..."
Before he could finish, I grabbed his cheeks and gave him a big smooch.
"Just kidding. I only wanted you to say it out loud like me," I said.
I turned around and whispered in his ear, "I love you, Harry, sweetheart."
I waited for quite a while, but he still didn't respond.
It seemed like raising a kid wasn't something one could rush. Guess I'd have to take it slow.
But just as I was about to get up, I felt Harry give my ear a kiss.
His cheeks were bright red as he tried to express himself. "I love you too, Mom," he said.
Man, my heart just melted hearing him call me "Mom".
It was so sweet. But deep down, there was a bittersweet feeling I couldn't shake.
I spent days trying to get Harry to open up and be a little more cheerful.
But one morning, as soon as he woke up, he was back to his gloomy self.
He was wearing a suit, sitting at the table, his posture rigid and upright.
No matter how gently I tried to talk to him, he wouldn't relax.
After I kept asking, Harry finally gave in.
"Dad's coming back from his business trip. Imelda's the one who told him to come home," he said. "Mom, you should leave. If he finds out you made me misbehave, he'll give you a hard time."
When I saw Harry look so timid and vulnerable, my heart was bleeding for him.
"Who told you acting like that makes you bad?" I said softly.
I put my hand on his arm and wrapped my arms around him, holding him close.
"Tell me, sweetheart, how does Dylan punish you?" I asked gently.
Feeling my warmth, Harry couldn't hold back his tears anymore. "He left me with Imelda.
"She said she was going to help me study, but instead, she locked me up in the discipline room.
"Every day, I had to apologize. If I didn't obey, I wouldn't be allowed to eat."
"What?!" I shouted, almost wanting to flip over the table.
No wonder Harry got sick. No wonder he grew up to be so extreme.
It was all because of that bastard Dylan.
If he hadn't enabled and indulged Imelda, my sweet boy never would've ended up like that.
Just thinking about Harry suffering here for ten years made my fists clench so hard my knuckles turned white.
I couldn't wait a second longer. Taking Harry by the hand, I made a beeline for the airport.
The airport was bustling with excitement. Rumor had it Dylan had abandoned a partnership worth over 30 million dollars, flying back in a fury.
And it was all to deal with the fake who was posing as his wife.
Reporters were camped out at the airport exit. They didn't know who I was, but they instantly recognized Harry, who was holding my hand.
Cameras and microphones were thrust at us, their questions coming fast and ruthless.
"So you're the woman pretending to be Mrs. McCan, huh?"
"You've got guts. Everyone in Jewen City knows the only thing Mr. McCan cares about is his late wife."
"You think winning over his son will give you a way into the McCan family? Dream on."
For once, Harry mustered up his courage, pointed at them and yelled, "Quit making stuff up! She's my mom. She's not just any other woman."
The reporters didn't dare argue with him directly. Instead, they crowded around me, clearly waiting for some drama to unfold.
"Just wait till Mr. McCan shows up. He'll teach her a lesson."
Dylan stormed off the plane, Imelda right beside him and a whole squad of bodyguards in tow.
Imelda's sharp eyes locked onto me instantly.
"Dylan, that's the woman. She's been posing as your late wife, and she even tried to run off with Harry," Imelda cried out.
Dylan strode over. But before he could get his footing, I gave him a slap across the face.
Then came the second, third, fourth, and fifth slap.
Every camera was trained on me, snapping away like crazy.
"Is this woman out of her mind? Does she have a death wish, slapping Mr. McCan like that?"
"I thought she wouldn't live to see tomorrow, but now it looks like she might not even make it out of the airport."
Dylan was reeling from the slaps, ready to explode, but when he finally got a good look at my face, he was completely stunned.
Everyone was holding their breath, waiting for him to tear into me.
But instead, he dropped to the floor before me.
"H-Honey, you're back. Is it really you?" Dylan stammered, his voice shaking with disbelief.
I was so mad I could barely hold it in. "Who are you calling 'honey'? Your wife is dead. Can't you see I'm the imposter?"
After we got married, I didn't like those events Dylan attended, so I hardly ever showed my face in public.
All anyone knew was that he had a wife. Nobody knew who she was.
With Dylan beside her, Imelda immediately started throwing her weight around, acting all bossy now.
Imelda sneered, "Mrs. McCan is supposed to be some classy, well-bred heiress. How could she ever be someone as loud and brash as her?
"Dylan, she hit me a few days ago. You have to stand up for me."