Chapter 4

I tilted my head a bit and just avoided the hit.

Cynthia screamed hysterically, "Shawn, are you out of your mind? If you've got a problem with me, take it out on me! Is that all you can do, ruining Mom's birthday present?

"Get down on your knees, bow your head, and beg Mom for forgiveness right now!

"You'd better pay for that tapestry, even if you have to go broke to do it!"

The relatives crowded around, and Cynthia's uncle, Thomas Palmer, jabbed a finger at me, cursing me out, "You ungrateful backstabber! The Palmers took you in for five years, and this is how you pay us back?

"You're so petty, you can't even stand a kid! Apologize now, then get out of the Palmer family!"

All kinds of nasty accusations came at me from every direction.

Cynthia stepped up and forced my shoulders down.

"Apologize now!" she snapped, her voice tight with rage.

As her hand pressed down on my shoulders, I suddenly let out a low laugh.

I suddenly let out a low, quiet laugh.

My laughter sounded strangely out of place in the noisy hall.

I shook off her grip and pulled out my phone and tablet.

I was the one who designed and installed the security system for the family estate, along with the 360-degree HD surveillance for the display area.

To this day, my phone still held top-level admin privileges.

I shoved Cynthia's cousin aside and strode straight to the main table, hooking up my phone to the wireless display for the birthday video.

"What are you doing?" Cynthia barked, trying to snatch my phone from my hand.

I shot her a cold look. "Watch closely."

I hit play. The giant projection screen flashed with a sharp replay of what just happened at the display stand.

On the screen, Mike was holding the mushroom soup, looking smug as ever.

He walked up to the display stand, and I was still 20 inches away. Nobody was anywhere near him.

With a flick of his wrist, Mike dumped the soup all over the tapestry himself.

Then he flung himself backward in an over-the-top act, clutching his wrist and howling like he'd been hurt.

The whole frame-up was seamless, not even a pause.

The whole hall went dead silent, everyone's insults stuck in their throats.

Thomas coughed awkwardly and shuffled away into the crowd.

Cynthia stood there, frozen.

She stared at the big screen, her whole body trembling uncontrollably.

"This can't be happening," Cynthia stammered, her voice shaky, still trying to defend Mike. "Mike would never do something like that. Maybe it's just the camera angle—"

Cynthia couldn't even finish a sentence.

Mike freaked out and dove under the table.

He covered his ears, refusing to even glance at the screen.

I shut down the computer.

I pulled a document out of my briefcase and slammed it down on the dining table.

"Just a camera angle?" I pointed at the document, my voice going cold. "Then what about this ER report? Is that a camera angle too?"

It was the emergency report from our fifth anniversary night.

I read the diagnosis out loud for everyone. "Patient suffered a severe allergic reaction and acute shock after eating a large amount of peanuts. If I'd been brought in ten minutes later, I wouldn't have survived."

I stared straight at Cynthia, refusing to look away.

I asked, "Cynthia, the peanut butter cookies you stood in line for two hours to buy nearly killed me."

As soon as those words left my mouth, Cynthia finally realized I wasn't being dramatic or playing games.

I'd really come back from the brink of death.

Cynthia stammered, "You— You really had an allergic reaction?" Her voice was shaking so much she could barely get the words out. "Why didn't you tell me? I had no idea. I honestly forgot—"

Her legs buckled, and she fell hard onto the shattered porcelain scattered across the floor.

Her custom-made gown was ripped, but it was like she couldn't feel a thing.

"Cynthia, are you out of your mind? How could you joke with someone's life like that?"

"You'd risk your own husband's life for some outsider?"

"This is ridiculous!"

I ignored all their phony regrets.

I pulled out the freshly printed divorce papers from my bag and slapped them down in front of Sabrina's birthday gifts.

I said, "I've already signed them. At the city hall, tomorrow at 9 am. Don't be late."

With that, I turned and strode out of the old house, not looking back.

The cold wind slapped against my face, and for the first time in a long while, I felt truly clear-headed.

"Shawn! Don't go!" Behind me, Cynthia's cry rang out, raw and heartbreaking.

She practically threw herself out the door, stumbling and crawling after me.

She grabbed onto my legs like her life depended on it, crying like her world was ending.

She sobbed, "I messed up, I really did. I know it now. Please, forgive me this once. I'll kick Mike out right now, and I'll do whatever you say from now on."

She looked up at me, her face covered in snot and tears.

There wasn't a hint left of her usual CEO aura.

I looked down at Cynthia, my gaze totally blank.

"Let go," I said.

She shook her head desperately, holding on for dear life.

Without a second thought, I kicked her off me, showing no mercy.

Cynthia went sprawling into the mud outside. I never looked back, headed straight for the taxi parked by the curb.