Chapter 1

Rain hammered against the villa's floor-to-ceiling windows, like someone was throwing water against the glass.

I knelt in the entryway, my knees digging into the icy marble floor. My eighteen-year-old son, Alex, stood behind me, his school uniform soaked and stuck to his skinny frame, quiet as a log.

Charles walked out of the study, tossing a stack of papers into the puddle. The sheets landed in the water, ink spreading out in messy streaks.

"Sign it," Charles said, loosening his cuffs. His voice was icier than the storm outside. "This is a declaration to disown your son. Sign it, and take that worthless brat with you. Get out."

*****

I didn't move.

Vanessa came out of the living room, holding a cup of hot coffee. She was wearing the silk robe I'd bought her for her birthday last year. She handed the coffee to Charles, her fingers lingered on his hand for a moment as she whispered, "Honey, don't let this ruin your health. It's not worth it."

Charles took the coffee and took a sip.

He didn't even look at me. Instead, he turned to the butler behind him and said, "Move Ethan's things to the master bedroom on the east side. That room is his from now on. Tomorrow, update the official family records. Ethan is the Carter Family's eldest son now."

The master bedroom on the east side. That was the room Alex had lived in since he was a kid. His certificate for winning the math olympiad in middle school was still pinned to the wall.

I brushed off my clothes and stood up, picking up the soaked stack of papers from the floor and smoothing them out one by one.

Charles finally looked at me, his lips curled in that same contempt I've known for eighteen years. "Emma, if you're still thinking you can fight for your son, forget it for good. Not a single dollar from the Carter Family will ever go to him."

I straightened the papers, grabbed a pen from the coffee table, and flipped to the last page.

Above the signature line, it read: I voluntarily sever all legal ties with Alex Carter.

I signed my name in the signature line. My handwriting was as steady as it was eighteen years ago, just like when I signed our marriage certificate.

Charles paused for a moment, clearly not expecting me to sign so decisively.

I set the papers down on the cabinet by the door, then grabbed Alex's hand. His fingers were so cold, it felt like he'd just fished them out of icy water. I held on tight.

"Let's go," I told him.

Alex stayed silent, following me out. The rain kept pouring, and the end of the driveway was pitch-black, nothing visible at all.

Vanessa's high-pitched laughter echoed behind me, clearly meant for my ears. "Don't forget to say goodbye, Emma. Next time you drop by, make sure to call ahead. This place belongs to me and Ethan now."

I didn't look back.

Alex asked quietly, his voice barely above a whisper, so only I could hear. "Mom, are you cold?"

I shook my head.

He pulled out a neatly folded handkerchief from his school uniform pocket and handed it to me. It was dry—he'd been keeping it tucked away in his inside pocket the whole time.

I took it and wiped the rain off my face.

He pushed his glasses up his nose, the lenses covered in raindrops so he could barely see a thing. But he walked with a steady stride, nothing like a kid who'd just been kicked out by his dad.

I took his hand and led him to the street, hailing a cab.

The moment the car door shut, the sound of the rain faded away.

The driver glanced at us in the rearview mirror, probably wondering what a woman and a teenager, both soaking wet, were doing catching a cab so late at night.

"Where to?" he asked.

"17 Peace Street," Alex answered for me.

I glanced at him. That was Grace's address.

Alex pushed his glasses up again and said, "There's a spare room at Aunt Grace's. I already told her we'd be coming."

In advance.

I looked at his calm profile, and for a moment, I almost asked him when he realized his dad was going to kick us out.

But I didn't ask.

The cab drove into the rainy night, and the villa with its warm lights faded farther and farther into the distance, until it became nothing but a blurry speck, disappearing behind the curtain of rain.

Grace opened the door, muttering curses under her breath.

"Emma, have you lost your mind? It's the middle of the night and you're drenched! Are you trying to get yourself hospitalized?" She yanked me inside by the arm, then shot a look at Alex. "Alex, get in here. Towels are in the bathroom—help yourself."

Alex said, "Thanks, Aunt Grace," kicked off his shoes, and headed inside.

Grace shut the door, pulled me onto the couch, shoved a cup of water into my hands, then sat across from me, legs crossed, staring me down.

"Spill it," she said.

I took a sip of water.

"Charles kicked us out. I signed the disownment papers," I said.

Grace slapped her hand down on the coffee table, making me jump.

"Emma! You just went ahead and signed it? Are you out of your mind? Eighteen years! You've been running his house, raising his kids, cleaning up all the messes at his company. When his business almost crashed two years ago, who saved him? You did! And now that he's back on his feet, he just boots you and your son out?"

"Grace," I said, holding her hand to stop her from hitting the table again. "It's better this way. I signed it."

"Better? What's better about this?" she shot back, glaring at me. "Do you even know what Vanessa's been saying about you? She calls you a mooch, says you're just freeloading off the Carter Family, and even claims your own kid can't measure up. Her son Ethan is only sixteen, his grades are a mess, and he's already been in three fights at school. And she still has the nerve to say Alex isn't good enough?"

"I know," I said.

"You know, and you still signed it?" she shot back.

I set the cup down.

"Grace, there are some things I can't talk about right now. Just know this—I won't let Alex get the short end of the stick," I said.

Grace opened her mouth, glanced toward the hallway—Alex wasn't there, probably changing clothes. She lowered her voice. "What are you thinking? Do you have something up your sleeve?"

I didn't say anything.

She'd known me for fifteen years; she knew exactly what that look meant.

"Alright," she said, leaning back on the couch with her arms crossed. "If you don't want to talk, I won't push. But Emma, if you ever get pushed around and don't tell me, I'm cutting you off."

I gave her a small smile.

That night, I lay in the guest room at Grace's place, staring up at the ceiling. The room next door was quiet—Alex must've already fallen asleep.

My phone screen lit up. A new text.

The number wasn't saved, but I knew exactly who it was.

The message was just four words: "Everything's ready."

I stared at it for three seconds, then deleted it.

I turned off my phone and closed my eyes.

The rain outside was finally letting up a little.

When I woke up the next morning, Alex was already at Grace's dining table, munching on toast. He'd changed into some hand-me-downs from Grace's son, his hair still a bit damp, but he seemed in good spirits.

My phone rang.

It was the Carter Family's butler, Thomas.

I answered.

"Mrs. Carter," Thomas said, his voice low and cautious. "Mr. Carter asked me to inform you that someone will come by before noon today to pick up your personal belongings. If you could, please make a list for me when you have a moment."

"Okay," I said.

"Mrs. Carter, there's one more thing," he added after a pause. "Mr. Carter wants the car you've been using returned. He says it's company property, and you were only borrowing it."

The car. Three years ago, Charles gave it to me on his birthday, right in front of all our relatives, saying it was his way of thanking me for everything I'd done.

"Got it," I said.

I hung up. Grace was standing in the kitchen doorway, having heard every word. She was gripping the spatula so hard her knuckles were white.

"Emma, that car was a gift from him. Your name's on the registration! How can he just take it back?" she demanded.

"He says it's company property now," I replied.

"Bullshit!" Grace slammed the spatula on the counter. "I saw the receipt with my own eyes—he paid for it out of his personal account. That's just straight-up stealing."

Alex took a bite of his toast, then looked up. "Mom, just let him have the car."

Grace shot him a look. "Alex, you too?"

Alex finished chewing, pushed his glasses up, and said calmly, "Aunt Grace, it's just a car. No need to make a big deal out of it."

Grace looked at me, then at him, and let out a deep breath. "Alright, you two really are cut from the same cloth."

At noon, Charles sent a driver to collect the car keys. He used to be respectful, but today he skipped the formalities and just said, "Ms. Carter, the keys."

I handed the keys over.

He took them, paused for a moment, then added, "Mr. Carter also said the black credit card will be canceled next month."

Grace happened to overhear and marched right up, her finger nearly jabbing the driver's nose. "Go back and tell Charles—he can't just toss people aside like this. Half of what the Carter Family has today is because of Emma. He wants the car, he takes it. He wants to cancel the card, he cancels it. Why wasn't he this ruthless when he was chasing her back then?"

The driver shrank back, grabbed the keys, and hurried off.

I grabbed Grace's arm. "That's enough."

"I just can't let this slide," she said.

"I know," I said.

Alex had quietly moved to the entryway, leaning against the wall with a book in hand, watching everything unfold in silence.

He glanced at me and said softly, "Mom, I'll take you out for dinner this weekend."

I nodded.

Grace muttered under her breath, "You got any money left in your pocket?"

Alex just gave a small smile, didn't say a word, and headed back to his room.

That evening, my phone buzzed with a news alert. The headline read: Carter Holdings Announces New Round of Shareholder Adjustments—Charles Carter's Son to Officially Join Management Training Program.

The photo showed Charles and Vanessa standing together, with Ethan in the middle. He was dressed in a suit, grinning from ear to ear, holding a bouquet of flowers.

I didn't bother reading the comments under the news.

Grace saw it and was so furious she threw her phone onto the couch. "He's basically making Vanessa the new lady of the house! Emma, just look at this—look at what he's doing to you!"

I picked up her phone and handed it back to her.

"Grace, don't go smashing your phone. Next month you'll need it to talk to your clients about your next batch," I said.

Grace stared at me for a while before finally asking, "Do you really not care, or are you just putting on an act?"

I straightened my clothes.

"You'll find out soon enough," I said.

Charles moved even faster than I expected.

Less than a week after kicking me and Alex out, he called a big meeting with all the top execs at Carter Holdings. Grace's friend who works there secretly gave her the scoop.

"What did he say?" I asked, sitting on Grace's couch, peeling an apple.

Grace read through her texts, telling me what she'd heard: "Charles said you used to handle a bunch of the company's business connections. Now that you're gone, he's put Vanessa in charge of all of them. He even said Vanessa had already been helping out, so the handover was super smooth."

My hand froze for a second as I peeled the apple.

Those business connections? I spent five years hustling for those, knocking on doors one after another. I met with every single partner myself—some of them took over ten meetings before they finally agreed. Vanessa helping out? Please. She can't even remember half their names.

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Oh, and he made a big deal about this," Grace added. "He said that real estate project Carter Group landed at the start of the year was supposedly all because Vanessa worked her magic."

That project.

You know that project at the start of the year? I had to call in favors from three different circles just to get a meeting with the landowner's top guy. I took them out to dinner four times before they even considered working with us. And on signing day, I was burning up with a 102-degree fever, but I still dragged myself there and saw it through from start to finish.

Now Vanessa gets all the credit.

Grace slammed her phone down on the table. "I'm seriously gonna lose it. Emma, you gave eighteen years of your life to that family, and now that you're gone, they're handing everything you did over to someone else. He wants to wipe you out of Carter Holdings history like you never even existed."

I cut the apple into four pieces and handed her one.

"Here, have some apple," I said.

"I can't eat," she replied.

"Then just watch me eat," I said.

I took a bite of the apple. It was sweet.

Grace stared at me for a long time, then suddenly blurted out, "Emma, are you cooking up something big?"

I kept chewing my apple and didn't say a word.

She leaned in, lowering her voice. "What are you up to? Come on, tell me. Are you going to take him to court? Go after the family fortune? Need me to find you a lawyer?"

"No need," I said.

"So what are you waiting for?" Grace pushed.

I tossed the apple core in the trash and wiped my hands.

"Grace, do you trust me?" I asked.

"Duh," she shot back.

"Then wait a little longer," I said.

Grace gave me a long, searching look, then let out a sigh. "Alright. But if you ever get pushed around and don't tell me, I'm seriously cutting you off."

"That's the third time you've said that today," I said.

"Just means I'm not kidding," she shot back.

That night, Alex came home late. He said he had something going on with his school club and stayed out for a bit.

I asked if he'd eaten.

He said he had.

I didn't press him. He'd been coming home late pretty often lately, but every time he walked in, he was calm, always looking neat, nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But one time, as I walked past his room, I spotted a phone on his desk I'd never seen before. It wasn't his usual student phone—it was a dark gray business phone, looked brand new.

'I kept quiet,' I thought. No point asking.

The next morning, the phone was gone.