Chapter 3

I sold it for eighty percent of its value.

The shop owner checked it thoroughly, confirmed it was real, and we traded cash for the item right there.

Right after that, I went and grabbed the latest foldable phone for myself.

Forget about those phones I gave to the police. I could always buy another one.

For quite a while after that, I followed Simon's guidance, moving from place to place, checking one trash bin after another. Picking through garbage became my routine.

I was suddenly treated like one of the bank's important clients. I upgraded my clothes, got my license, and bought a compact car.

I signed up for yoga classes, discovered my passions, and spent my free time enjoying my hobbies. I even hired a nutritionist to take care of all my meals.

I got myself a housekeeper at a high salary, making sure my daily life was smooth as butter. I bought a cozy villa, move-in ready and fully decked out.

I had officially hit financial freedom by dumpster diving.

As my belly grew bigger by the day, Simon got more and more excited. 'I'm about to make my grand entrance. I'm so pumped.'

One day, I was lounging on the balcony, soaking up the sun, when curiosity struck. "Simon, have you been there before?"

He replied, 'Yeah, in my previous life, you heard my voice and hurried to Dad to prove it. Dad brought you home, but life in that wealthy family was tough.

'Dad was always disappointed in you, and after I was born, he didn't care about you at all. Even with all that money, you never got to spend a cent, and nobody even knew you were his wife.

'You had no name, no standing, and your life was really sad. Me? I was just the unwanted child. Therefore, this time, let's steer clear of the rich family and just enjoy a happy life together.'

I felt so bad for him. I turned, making sure the sun could warm my belly from every angle.

"Okay, Simon, I'll listen to you," I said.

Now that I had enough cash, I figured I'd start a side hustle once Simon was born.

Dumpster diving couldn't be a long-term solution. Showing up near people's homes too often would eventually get noticed.

And if they got mad and made me give back all the money I'd already made, that would be a total disaster.

Simon told me not to worry about it. 'I didn't live my previous life for nothing. I learned everything I needed to. Leave the business stuff to me. You just enjoy yourself.'

I was so touched that I teared up. "I'm so lucky to have you."

Still, no matter what he said, there was no way I would actually let a child handle such complicated matters.

To make sure Simon would be born smoothly and in good health, I hired a childbirth specialist shortly before delivery.

Following her instructions, I kept active every day, making sure Simon stayed at a healthy weight.

On delivery day, we both did our best, and it was done in half an hour.

After Simon's first cry, I carried him back to our private ward.

He cooed and gurgled for a while, but when I didn't react, he just gave up.

I blinked, then understood. "Simon, I can't hear your voice anymore."

He let out a couple of baby noises, then, with great effort, managed to pat his tiny hand on his belly.

I got the message. He was hungry.

I quickly made up a bottle and fed him.

It turned out I gave birth to a total grind type; Simon was always hustling, day and night.

Most babies learned to walk slowly, but Simon was zooming around like a little rocket by nine months, already diving into preschool lessons on his own.

By the time he hit kindergarten, he'd already mastered sixth-grade material. At just three years old, he jumped straight into fifth grade.

People started calling him a genius.

One day, after a shopping trip, I walked into my living room and found a stranger standing there. He looked so much like Simon.

Alarm bells went off in my head.

I watched the guy carefully, thinking he seemed a little familiar.

I dug through my memories, but came up with nothing. In the end, I figured it was just because he looked so much like Simon that I found him familiar.

Simon sat right across from him, looking totally unfazed.

Though Simon was only three, the outlines of extraordinary handsomeness were already visible.

From the moment he was born, I knew he was destined to be a heartbreaker. He had a pretty nose, rosy lips, long fingers, and great proportions. He just acted way too mature for his age.

After all, he had been there before, so that old-soul vibe suddenly made perfect sense.

However, I realized Simon's features and his whole demeanor were almost a mirror image of the stranger; even the way they sat was uncannily alike.

The stranger looked effortlessly at ease, while Simon, for all his effort to imitate the adult's posture, still had that unmistakable hint of a kid playing grown-up.

I stood aside, not daring to make a sound.

Simon glanced at me, then gave the stranger a chilly once-over. "What are you doing here?"

The man lounged back, radiating that aristocratic vibe from head to toe. "I'm here to take you home."

My heart dropped.

Was he Simon's dad? Was this happening again?

I darted over and threw myself in front of Simon. "No way. Over my dead body will you take my son.

"Besides, you don't have a DNA test result. What makes you think he's your son? You've definitely got the wrong kid, so do yourself a favor and get out before I call the cops."

The man just raised an eyebrow, looking completely relaxed. "Just look at our faces. We look this much alike. How can he not be my son?

"You slept with me back then. Are you going to deny it?"