Chapter 2
Half a month later, Dad went all out and threw me a massive birthday party.
I really thought things would finally turn around, that Dad might start loving me the way he used to.
But instead of a birthday gift, he showed up with Susan.
Susan was still in that white dress, but this time she came in carrying a memorial tablet.
Engraved on the black wooden tablet were the words: [In Memory of My Beloved Son, Charlie Lane]
The moment she stepped in, the joyful buzz in the room froze like someone had slammed the pause button.
Guests whispered among themselves, shooting glances at the three of us and that tablet.
"Richard, what the hell is this supposed to mean?" Mom demanded, her face falling instantly.
Mom snapped, "Today is Zoey's birthday."
But Dad didn't even bother to answer. He just walked straight to the head of the table.
Then he sat Susan down right in Mom's seat, putting that memorial tablet next to her.
Dad said, "Charlie never got to celebrate his birthday, so today, let him join Zoey for hers."
His voice was not loud, but it cut through the room—everyone heard him, no missing it.
People just froze, jaws practically hitting the floor.
I stared at Dad, and suddenly, he felt like a total stranger to me—so unfamiliar, it honestly freaked me out.
Mom was shaking all over, her anger barely contained. She snatched up a glass of red wine, fully intending to throw it at Susan.
But before she even got the chance, Susan's face turned paper-white. She clutched her chest, went limp, and collapsed right into Dad's arms.
"Richard, my... my heart hurts..." Susan whimpered.
Dad went into full panic mode, holding onto her like she might break, and snapped at Mom without hesitation. "Vivian, what the hell are you doing?
"Susan's got a heart problem. Do you want to push her over the edge?"
Holding Susan tight, he frantically shoved pills at her.
With how panicked he was, people'd think Susan was the only person in the world he cared about.
The way the guests looked at Mom totally changed.
Some gave her pity, some looked down on her, and some were just there for the drama.
I saw Mom gripping her wine glass so hard that her knuckles turned white.
But she didn't cry or make a scene.
She locked eyes with Dad, glaring at him with all the fury she could muster, then walked over and knelt in front of me.
"Zoey, let's go home," she said, her voice unwavering.
She took my hand. With her back straight and her head held high, she walked us out in front of everyone.
Step by step, she left behind the place that had tried to shame her.
Behind us, I could hear Dad frantically calling for a doctor.
And there was Susan, nestled in Dad's arms, shooting us a smug, triumphant smile.
That night, Mom didn't sleep.
She stayed with me until I fell asleep, and then went to the study alone.
I woke up thirsty in the middle of the night and noticed light shining through the crack of the study door.
I tiptoed over and heard her talking on the phone, her voice cold as ice.
She ordered, "Dig up everything there is on Susan Watts. Don't miss a single detail.
"And let it be known to every partner of Lane Group: anyone who dares sign with Richard again is making themselves an enemy of the Sinclair family."
Dad had really pushed Mom over the edge this time.
The very next day, Lane Group's stock crashed, and several major projects were shut down overnight.
Dad was a complete wreck, scrambling to handle the mess. Only then did he finally remember to come home.
He burst through the door, reeking of booze, his eyes bloodshot.
He shouted, "Vivian, did you really have to be this ruthless?
"All because of a birthday, you're really going to destroy everything I've worked hard for over more than ten years?"
Mom kept building Lego with me, not even glancing up when she heard Dad's shouting.
Mom said, "Your hard work?
"Richard, did you forget who gave you the very first money to start your company?"
Dad was stunned into silence.
He slumped down on the couch, buried his face in his hands, and for the first time, actually sounded like he was begging.
He pleaded, "Vivian, I messed up. Please, just let it go, will you?
"Susan... She's had it rough enough already. I can't just abandon her."
Mom finally set down the Lego in her hand and looked at Dad, her eyes brimming with disappointment.
She said, "So, for the sake of that pitiful woman, you think it's fine to hurt me and Zoey?
"Richard, tell me, what are we to you? Are we just nothing in your eyes?"
Dad didn't say a word.
After what felt like an eternity, he finally lifted his head, his gaze ice-cold and almost chilling.
He said, "Vivian, I've loved you for ten years.
"I built a snow mountain for you, and even hired a whole troupe just so you could have every opera you ever wanted. I gave you everything I could.
"But you? You got colder and crueler with every year. In the end, you killed my son, Charlie!
"This snow mountain was for the Vivian I loved—not for you, the murderer who killed my son.
"It's decided. I'm tearing it all down to build a grave for Charlie.
"And we're getting a divorce."
Boom. It felt like the most beautiful thing I'd ever known had just collapsed around me.
That snow mountain Dad built for Mom—the one that was meant to never melt—was gone.
I looked at Mom. Her face was ghostly pale, not a single trace of color left.
She'd always held her head high, but now she looked like a porcelain doll on the verge of shattering.
For the first time in my life, I felt nothing but pure hatred for Dad.
I rushed over, threw my arms around Mom's leg, tears streaming down my face as I shouted at Dad, "Don't you dare hurt Mom!
"Dad, you're a bad guy. I hate you!"