Chapter 2

At 2 AM, the inpatient wing of Rowinlife Medical Center was so quiet that I could hear the IV drip.

I sat by the bed, holding Emily's hand. Her fever had finally broken, and she was asleep, but her brows were still drawn together, like she couldn't rest easy in her dreams.

My phone kept buzzing in my pocket, and my leg was starting to tingle. Besides Richard, the Hawthorne family's butler, Richard's secretary, and Richard's mother, who'd never liked me, were all calling.

I didn't answer any of them.

Then a local number from Jinsband flashed on the screen. I stared at it for a few seconds before picking up.

"Ms. Evans, this is Michael Williams, Daniel's assistant." The voice on the line was crisp and professional. "Mr. Grant wanted me to ask if you need a safe place to stay. The Hawthorne family is already on their way to the hospital."

I glanced at the door, hearing the faint sound of hurried footsteps from down the hall. "Yes, I do."

"In the underground parking, Section B, there is a black Bentley with a license plate xxxx. The driver's name is Ethan. Take the west fire exit with your child. No one from the Hawthorne family is there right now."

"Thank you."

"It was Mr. Grant's idea."

After hanging up, I quickly packed up. Medical records, meds, a few personal items. I hadn't brought anything with me. I grabbed whatever I could from the hospital convenience store.

I scooped up the still-sleeping Emily, wrapped her snugly in a blanket, and quietly slipped out of the hospital room.

Down the hall, the Hawthorne family's bodyguards were blocking the nurse's station, asking questions. I ducked into the fire exit, my footsteps echoing through the empty stairwell.

When I reached the second underground level, there was a black Bentley parked in the corner of Section B, right where Michael said it would be. The window rolled down, and the driver, a middle-aged guy, nodded at me.

The car pulled out of the hospital in silence, merging into the sparse traffic of the early morning.

"Ms. Evans, Mr. Grant has an apartment in Magliose Bay. It's usually empty. We've had it cleaned up and stocked with all the basics," Ethan said, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "Would that work for you?"

"Please thank Mr. Grant for me," I said, pausing. "But why is he doing all this for me?"

Ethan was quiet for a moment, then said, "Mr. Grant said some people are so dirty. He couldn't stand by and watch."

I didn't ask anything else.

Magliose Bay was one of the most exclusive places in Jinsband. Security was tight, and the place offered excellent privacy. Ethan took me up to the 28th floor, and the fingerprint lock was already set for me.

"Get some rest. If you need anything, call me," Ethan said, handing me a business card with only his name and number. "Mr. Grant already gave the heads-up to the press. Whenever you want to go public, say the word."

After the door closed, I laid Emily down on the big bed in the master bedroom, then collapsed onto the living room couch.

Outside, the sky was already starting to lighten. I hadn't slept a wink all night, but I wasn't tired at all.

When I turned on my phone, dozens of missed call notifications flooded in. There were also a few text messages, starting with questions and ending with threats.

Richard: [Charlotte, you'd better explain yourself.

[Where did you take Emily? Call me back right now.

[Don't push your luck. Come back now, and I'll pretend nothing happened.]

The last one was sent ten minutes ago. [I know you're at Rowinlife Medical Center. Once I finish things here, I'll come get you myself. Stop making a scene. Emily needs the Hawthorne family's medical resources, and you know that better than anyone.]

I let out a cold laugh.

Of course, I knew better than anyone.

That line was the chain that kept me trapped in my previous life. Emily was born with a heart condition, and her medical bills cost tens of thousands every month. She could be hospitalized at any moment.

The Hawthorne family controlled the best medical resources in Jinsband. Leaving them meant cutting off Emily's only hope.

So when Richard cheated, I put up with it. When he flaunted his mistress right in front of me, I endured it.

When he splurged on Sophie, embezzled company money, and used the Hawthorne family's connections to break the law, I put up with all of it. Because my daughter needed to stay alive.

But now I was not going to take it anymore.

I opened Twitter, and the top five trending topics were all about the Hawthorne family, with hashtags reading, [HawthorneHeirShutsDownRoadsForLove], [StarfireFireworks3MillionDollarShow], [WhenWillThePrivilegedStop], [WhoCausedTheCitywideShutdown], and [WhoIsSophieCarter].

I clicked on the first one, and there were already live videos circulating.

The footage showed all the roads around the Highlink District blocked off by police barriers, with cars lined up for miles.

Drivers were arguing, a pregnant woman was clutching her stomach by the side of the road, and an elderly man was sitting on the curb, gasping for breath.

And in the distance, the night sky exploded with Starfire Fireworks, spectacular and radiant, lighting up the city for a whole thirty minutes.

The comments section was already blowing up.

[Blocking off main roads on Christmas Eve? Are the Hawthorne family acting like they own the city or what?]

[Heard someone in critical condition got stuck because of the detour, still in the ER. No clue if they'll make it.]

[That kid getting helped into the ambulance in the video looks like they have a heart problem. That's messed up.]

[Was Richard behind the fireworks show? Isn't his wife Charlotte? Who is Sophie?]

[Did you get internet? Sophie is Richard's so-called charity case, the kind who lives in a mansion and drives a luxury car.]

[Word is, Sophie's a senior at the film academy, already signed with Hawthorne Group's entertainment branch, about to debut. Tonight's drama is to build buzz, right?]

[Shutting down the whole city to make his mistress famous? Richard's wild.]

[Am I the only one curious where Mrs. Hawthorne is? Is she really okay with all this?]

I scrolled through the comments, my hands growing icy with each swipe.

In my previous life, the Hawthorne family managed to crush all the public outrage within hours.

Hawthorne Group's PR team worked overnight, deleting posts, manipulating comments, and flooding the internet with press releases.

They twisted the road closure and fireworks into a "romantic act of charity by an entrepreneur," turned Sophie into an "inspirational scholarship girl," and reduced my daughter's death to nothing more than "an unfortunate accident."

They had internet trolls on the payroll fueling the fire, saying it was all my fault that Emily got a high fever on Christmas Eve. But this time, things were different.

I tipped off the media before anyone could cover it up. I was finally out from under the Hawthorne family's thumb. Daniel was out there stirring the pot, making sure the chaos kept spreading.

My phone rang again. This time, it was Richard's mother, Margaret Hawthorne.

I answered.

"Charlotte, are you out of your mind?" Margaret's shrill voice nearly pierced my eardrums. "Have you seen what people are saying online?

"Richard busts his ass for the Hawthorne family, and you go and mess everything up for him? Do you know how to act like a Hawthorne wife?"

"Margaret," I said calmly, "Emily had a fever of 105.8 degrees last night. Because the roads were blocked, the ambulance had to drive around for forty minutes before it finally got to the hospital. She almost died."

There was a brief pause on the other end, but Margaret quickly snapped. "So this is all your fault, isn't it?

"How could you let Emily get sick when it's freezing outside? Richard's out there busting his ass for the Hawthorne family, and you can't handle your own kid? What's the point of you?"

I laughed. "Yeah, I'm useless. So do me a favor and tell Richard that my lawyer will be sending him the divorce papers. From today on, Emily and I are done with the Hawthorne family."

"What did you say? Charlotte, have you completely lost it? Fine, you want a divorce. But Emily is a Hawthorne, and she stays with us. You're unemployed. How are you supposed to take care of her? The court will never side with you."

"Let's see about that."

I hung up and blocked her number.

Then I opened my contacts and found a number I'd saved for three years but never called. Jack Rogers was the best divorce lawyer in Jinsband, known for handling high-net-worth divorce cases and especially for fighting hard for child custody.

The phone rang three times before someone picked up.

"Mr. Rogers, this is Charlotte Evans. I want you to handle my divorce case. The other party is Richard," I said.

There was a brief silence on the other end. Then Jack said, "Mrs. Hawthorne, are you really sure about this?"

"I'm absolutely sure. Here's what I'm asking for. First, a divorce. Second, full custody of my daughter, Emily Hawthorne. Third, I want twenty percent of Hawthorne Group's shares as part of the settlement," I said."I'm sure. Here's what I'm asking for. First, a divorce. Second, full custody of my daughter, Emily Hawthorne. Third, I want twenty percent of Hawthorne Group's shares as part of the settlement," I said.

Jack was silent for a moment, then said, "Mrs. Hawthorne, getting your hands on Hawthorne Group's shares is a long shot. Richard had a prenup in place before you got married, and he's been moving assets out of reach ever since.

"And honestly, custody's going to be a tough fight too. You don't have a job or steady income right now, while the Hawthorne family can give Emily the best medical care and schooling money can buy. The judge will probably side with Richard on custody."

"What if I have proof that Richard cheated, abused his power, and put the public at risk? What if I can show that he and his mother tried more than once to hurt Emily, to push me into divorcing him?"

Jack's voice grew serious. "Do you have the evidence?"

"Yeah, but I need some time to organize everything," I said. "And three years ago, Richard's mother, Margaret, tried to slip an overdose of sedatives into Emily's medicine. I caught her in time.

"I still have the drug samples and the family doctor's report from that time."

I only learned the truth about this after I died in my previous life.

Margaret always looked down on me, always thinking I wasn't good enough for her precious son.

When Emily was diagnosed with a heart condition, she saw my daughter as nothing but a burden, something that would ruin Richard's chances of remarrying and having another child.

That was why she tried to get rid of Emily, but she never managed to pull it off.

"If that's true, it could really tip the scales in your favor for custody," Jack said. "But the Hawthorne family won't let go easily. You need to brace yourself for a long fight, and honestly, your safety could be at risk."

"I know," I replied, as dawn broke outside her window. "So I need you to draft the divorce papers right away and file for a restraining order to bar Richard and Margaret from coming anywhere near Emily or me.

"And one more thing. I'm going to hold a press conference."

"A press conference?"

"Yes. This afternoon, I'll tell everyone myself what Richard pulled last night, what my daughter had to go through, and what Sophie really is behind the scenes."

After hanging up, I walked into the bedroom.

Emily was already awake, her eyes wide open, staring at the ceiling.

"Mom," she whispered, "does Dad not want us anymore?"

My heart ached as I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled her into my arms.

"It's I who am choosing to leave Dad," I whispered, kissing her forehead. "Emily, from now on, it'll be you and me. How does that sound?"

"Will Dad still light fireworks for me?" she asked.

"No, sweetheart, he won't," I whispered, hugging her tighter. "But from now on, I will light fireworks for you, the real kind, ones that belong to you and you alone."

At nine in the morning, I got the draft divorce papers from Jack.

At nine-thirty, Michael, Daniel's assistant, called to say he'd already lined up several major media outlets. The press conference could be held at one of Grant Group's hotels, and the security would be rock-solid.

At ten o'clock, I created a new account on Twitter with the username CharlotteOfficial and posted my first tweet.

It read: [I'm Charlotte Evans, wife of Richard Hawthorne. This afternoon at three, I'll be holding a press conference at the Grandview Hotel to set the record straight about what went down last night. And I'm filing for divorce.]

I hit send. Almost instantly, comments and shares on my feed exploded in number.

[Whoa, Mrs. Hawthorne herself showed up.]

[Wait, so that kid with the heart condition last night was actually Richard's daughter? He shut down the whole city to throw a fireworks show for his mistress while his own daughter was in the ER fighting for her life?]

[What a total scumbag.]

[Hang in there, Mrs. Hawthorne. We're all behind you.]

[Am I the only one wondering where Sophie is right now? Is she ghosting or what?]

As I scrolled through the comments, a private message suddenly popped up.

The user's passport was a jumble of random characters, and the message was one line: [Charlotte, you really think you've won? The story's already set in stone. You can't run from it.]

I stared at those words, a chill creeping up my spine.

This had to be Sophie. She knew how things were supposed to play out. Did she come back too?

No. If she really came back, she wouldn't be dumb enough to use an account like this and blow her cover.

So was this some kind of system warning? Or was the story trying to force things back on track?

I took a deep breath and replied: [Let's see who's really rewriting the script.]

Once I had sent the message, I blocked the account.

At two in the afternoon, I slipped into a sharp black suit, twisted my hair into a sleek bun, and put on enough makeup to look polished.

The woman staring back at me in the mirror had eyes like ice, with a faint smirk playing at her lips.

This wasn't the same Mrs. Hawthorne who'd endured humiliation for three years. I looked more like a phantom back for vengeance.

"Mommy, you look so pretty," Emily said, sitting on the bed and hugging the new doll I'd bought her.

"Emily, you wait here for me, okay? Kiki will keep you company," I said, crouching down to kiss her cheek. "I'm going to go deal with the bad guys, and I'll be right back."

"Who are the bad guys?"

"The ones who hurt you, sweetheart."

At two-thirty, Ethan came to pick me up. As we headed for the Grandview Hotel, I caught sight of the LED screens lining the street. Hawthorne Group's emergency PR press conference was playing everywhere.

On screen, Richard was standing in front of the cameras, wearing a tailored suit but looking absolutely exhausted. "I'm really sorry about what happened last night.

"I only wanted to do something special for a student I've been supporting for years, but I never thought it would turn into such a mess. I've already talked to the traffic authorities, and I'll take whatever consequences come my way.

"To everyone who got caught up in this, I apologize. As for my family, that's between my wife and me, so please don't read too much into it. I'll handle it."

A reporter raised their hand. "Mr. Hawthorne, did you know your wife, Ms. Evans, is holding a press conference this afternoon?"

Richard froze, his expression stiffening.

"And is Ms. Carter really a regular student you're supporting? People caught her living in a villa under your name and driving a Porsche. Is that what you call a student in need?" another reporter added.

"That's it for today, thank you," Richard's secretary cut in, quickly ending the press conference.

The screen cut off.

I switched off the screen in the car.

"Ms. Evans, we've arrived," Ethan said.

The entrance to the Grandview Hotel was swarming with reporters, their cameras and equipment pointed at my car door. Camera flashes crackled like thunder all around.

I pushed open the car door and set foot on the red carpet.

The crowd fell silent for a brief moment. Then, the camera flashes erupted more intensely.

I kept my head high, walking step by step toward the hotel lobby. Round one started