Chapter 2
Hearing her call him George again after so long, he froze for a split second, but he quickly calmed down.
He ruthlessly shook her hand off, sneering, "Cut the crap, Cecily. I don't believe a single word that comes out of your mouth."
With that, he turned and strode out of the room.
"Go pick up our eldest son from school," he commanded flatly.
A moment later, the sound of a car engine starting echoed from downstairs.
Cecily felt helpless.
George was gone to get their eldest son.
Their second son had been ruined by that imposter's so-called upbringing, growing up completely out of control. Rose Hayes, George's mother, deemed him an embarrassment to the family name, so she had him forcibly removed to Hayes Estate for strict re-education.
But where was their daughter?
How was her sweet baby girl doing?
Ignoring the throbbing pain in her back, Cecily spun around and hurried toward the children's rooms.
With every step closer to that familiar, painted door, her heart pounded faster.
She hadn't seen Sophie, her daughter, in three whole years.
But just as her hand reached for the doorknob, a tall shadow fell over her.
"Mrs. Hayes, Mr. Hayes has given strict orders. No one is to disturb your daughter while she is resting. Please step away."
The bodyguard wore a stony expression, his tone leaving no room for argument.
No one?
Cecily stopped short, a fierce anger surging through her.
"Get out of my way," she yelled, her voice dropping to a dangerously low level. "I'm going to see my daughter. Right now."
The bodyguard didn't flinch. "Please don't make this difficult."
"Difficult?" she shot back. "Did he give birth to Sophie all by himself? How come he gets to see her and I don't?"
Her voice rose, shaking with fury. "The little girl in that room is the daughter I carried for nine months! He thinks he can just say I can't see her?
"No one? Am I no one? I'm her mother!"
Cecily planted her hands on her hips, her words firing like bullets.
The bodyguard stared, utterly baffled by this sharp-tongued woman.
Was this the same wife who used to follow her husband's every command like it was gospel? It felt like she was a completely different person.
Yes. Cecily was.
The imposter, desperate to maintain her image as a virtuously submissive wife, would have meekly obeyed.
But this was the Cecily who once called George a psycho right to his face!
Taking advantage of his shock, Cecily shoved the bodyguard aside and flung the door open.
Afternoon sunlight filtered through the curtains, bathing the room in a soft glow. The air was filled with that milky baby scent that made Cecily's heart melt the moment she stepped inside.
A tiny figure was sitting on the rug, with her light brown hair tied in two adorable pigtails. She was quietly focused on scribbling with a crayon, looking so sweet and well-behaved.
After three years apart, her precious girl had gotten so skinny.
Her shoulders looked fragile, and even her little fingers gripping the crayon seemed too thin.
"Sophie..." Cecily whispered.
Her eyes burned with tears. She slowly knelt, reaching out to stroke her daughter's hair.
Suddenly, Sophie turned.
She didn't look at Cecily.
She didn't call out "Mommy" like any other child.
Instead, she hit the floor before Cecily in a ceremonial kneel on the rug, exactly like a grand duke greeting his monarch.
Cecily was totally stunned.
Her brain stalled as she could barely process the situation.
Snapping out of her shock, she scrambled forward and gently but firmly lifted her daughter from the floor.
But when her eyes landed on Sophie's tiny knees, she sucked in a sharp breath.
Where there should have been baby-smooth skin, there was a mix of purple and yellow bruises, new ones layered over old ones.
A vise gripped Cecily's heart. Her fingers trembled as they hovered over the bruised skin, too terrified to touch.
What did that psycho do to her baby girl?
She bolted to the living room, fumbled through the first-aid kit, and rushed back to Sophie's side, carefully rolling up her pant leg.
"Does it hurt? Sweetheart, tell Mommy, does it hurt?"
Sophie stayed silent.
She just stared at Cecily's face.
A chill ran down Cecily's spine.
Sophie wasn't speaking.
It was true. The imposter had bullied her sweet baby into silence.
Cecily took a breath, a cocktail of rage and heartbreak rising in her throat. Swallowing a sob, she began to dab ointment on the bruises, babbling as she went, desperate to undo the damage.
"I was wrong before. I'm so sorry. From now on, we're done kneeling. That old-school obedience is in the past. Women are equal to anyone. We were born to stand upright!"
"We have to be strong and independent. We do whatever we want! All those old rules about being obedient are just sexist garbage. It's like wrapping yourself in rotting chains. They stink and drag you down!
"We need to shatter those chains and trample them under our feet! Do you get it, Sophie?"
Sophie stared at Cecily and gave an uncertain nod.
"Did you draw this, babe?" Cecily asked softly.
After finishing with the medicine, she noticed the drawing on the table and picked it up.
"This is amazing! My girl is drawing all by herself! Look at these vibrant colors!
"The composition and the emotional impact are so powerful! My daughter is going to be a world-famous artist!"
The page was covered in oppressive strokes of dark blue, but Cecily managed to praise it as if she were discovering the next Van Gogh masterpiece.
Sophie's long eyelashes fluttered. Her gaze dropped back to her drawing.
A strange new feeling stirred in her chest. It was the first time Cecily had ever praised her.