Chapter 3

Richard drove me to the airport himself the day I left.

Mom sat in the passenger seat, silent. She'd spent three hours on her makeup—bright red lipstick, powder caked on thick—but her face still looked bloodless.

She just stared out the window at roads she'd driven a thousand times, as if locking away her entire past.

Richard wore his old navy suit with that perfect smile plastered on. To anyone watching, he looked like the ideal husband and father.

One hand on the wheel, he made small talk about school, then turned to Mom. "I've set up Vivian's accommodations. Monica will take care of her. Vivian will be more comfortable at her place."

Mom didn't respond. She just gripped her handbag until her knuckles turned white.

Of course, she knew who Monica was.

The youngest female executive at Linwood Corporation. Thirty-five. Double MBA. Stunning. Always knew how to work a room. And three years ago, she'd given Richard a pair of twins—a boy and a girl.

HR had even given her a nickname: the company's crown princess.

Mom wasn't stupid. She just pretended not to know.

Today she wore her most expensive champagne-colored dress—the first fancy thing Dad bought her after he made it big.

She sat ramrod straight in that seat.

If she was going to see me off, she'd do it as Mrs. Linwood, even if after today she'd fade into the background—forgotten.

At the airport, Dad's driver waited at the VIP gate, handling my luggage like any other day.

Holding my hand, Mom asked softly, "Do you have your passport? Your cold medicine? And that cashmere scarf..."

I nodded, noticing how her eyes were rimmed with red.

She tried to smile, but her lips wouldn't cooperate.

Her voice came out strained. "If it gets cold, just call me, and I'll send you clothes..."

My eyes burned, but I refused to cry.

This wasn't just a goodbye—it was a real separation.

Dad stepped forward and gently put his arm around her shoulders, smiling at me. "Your mom's been worried sick. She hasn't slept in days."

Mom's eyes widened at "your mom." It really got to her.

Her eyes went red, as if affection had found her once again.

I looked at her, a mix of anger and aching sympathy.

That Mom for you.

Even knowing she'd been betrayed and left with nothing, she still tried to find comfort in the tiniest scrap of pretend love.

Maybe because she'd given him all her best years.

I stood up, and right before I walked through the gate, Mom suddenly pulled me into a hug.

"Vivian..." She buried her face in my shoulder, voice shaking. "If things get tough, just come home. I'll always be here."

I patted her back gently. "Mom, just wait for me."

"Wait for what?"

I leaned close and whispered, "Wait for me to come back and reclaim everything that's supposed to be yours."

She froze, eyes distant, then nodded. "Alright. I'll wait."

When I looked back, Dad still had his arm around her. They looked like a loving old couple seeing their daughter off.

But only I knew about the photo in his office drawer—Monica at Disney with the twins, all of them happier than he ever looked with us.

Only I knew that none of this would change the fact that he'd eventually hand over the entire family fortune to his illegitimate children.

I walked into the VIP lounge, and Monica was already waiting for me on the sofa.

Camel trench coat. Perfect makeup. Rose-colored lips. Earrings flashing—fresh off the Chanel runway. Dad was clearly generous with her.

She stood up, smiling as she reached out her hand. "Vivian, so nice to see you again. Your dad talks about you all the time."

I didn't take her hand—just nodded.

"Thanks for helping out," I said.

She didn't seem to mind, just picked up her handbag. "Don't mention that. While you're in Seravia, treat me like family. If you need anything, just ask."

I gave her a polite smile.

She thought I didn't know who she was.

In my last life, I spent four years living in her house. I knew which drawer held the twins' vaccination records, which passport was hidden in the safe, how many nannies she'd cycled through, and exactly what time she liked calling Richard in the middle of the night.

She thought I didn't remember a thing.

She had no idea I was here to settle accounts.

Monica led me onto the private jet. Spacious seats, flight attendants bowing as they served water—everything felt like a fairy tale.

Once seated, I stayed quiet. I popped in my new SIM card, set up tracking, WiFi, and voice recording, and linked my bank accounts for text alerts.

I knew this move meant leaving behind my identity as the Linwood heiress for good.

They could raise their secret kids without a care.

But it wouldn't be long before they realized something: I wasn't just the daughter they shipped off. I was coming back to settle the score.