Chapter 4

"And one more thing," I continued, "the Emeraldlake apartment Ryan's staying in is under my name. Have the legal team get the eviction papers ready by tomorrow. Give him three days to move out."

"Ms. White," Gracie hesitated, "does Mr. White know about this?"

"He doesn't need to be consulted. Just inform him."

"What about his car?"

"Reclaim it as well," I said, pausing briefly. "The Porsche is registered under the company. Have the driver pick it up tomorrow."

"Got it."

I hung up and set my phone on the nightstand. The room fell silent again.

I leaned back against the headboard, closed my eyes, and memories from years ago flooded my mind.

I thought of Mark. He was the one who once promised to be always good to me. But he cheated on me when I was pregnant with our second child.

The stress made me miscarry, and then Olivia walked right in and told me to get out.

And he Mark me, "If you want the son, you have to walk away with nothing."

I gritted my teeth and divorced him.

But that year, my son got seriously ill. We were short two thousand dollars for his hospital bill, so I went to Mark for child support.

He was holding Emily in his arms. "You brought this on yourself. Let him die for all I care. Olivia can give me another kid. Get out."

Resentment still lingered in my heart whenever I thought about it.

I couldn't let it go.

I couldn't forget how cold and ruthless Mark had been.

I couldn't get Olivia's self-satisfied smirk out of my mind.

Then I thought of Ryan. He was so small and soft back then.

We were crammed into a tiny 100-square-foot apartment in a rundown part of the city. There was no air conditioning, and he was so hot he couldn't sleep. I sat beside him, fanning him with an old hand fan.

Every time, he'd mumble, "Mom, I'm not afraid of the heat. You don't have to fan me. Your arm will get tired."

Those words made every struggle feel worth it.

I still remember that winter when I was selling stuff on the street, the city patrol came after me. I tripped and fell, my ankle was swollen like a balloon, and they took most of my goods.

By the time I got home, it was already midnight. Ryan was sitting alone at the door, his little face red from the cold.

When he saw me limping, he ran over to help me, his little hands cold. "Mom, what happened? Does it hurt?"

I smiled and said I was fine.

He helped me inside, fetched a little stool for me to sit on, then crouched down and carefully touched my swollen ankle. "Mom, let me rub it for you. It'll stop hurting."

His little hands were so gentle, but the way he tried to comfort me almost brought me to tears.

That night, he hugged me and said seriously, "Mom, when I grow up, I'll make sure you have a good life. You won't have to work so hard or get hurt anymore."

When he was ten, he secretly saved up his allowance for two months to buy me a silk scarf. "Mom, I didn't have enough to get anything fancy, but one day, when I've got money, I'll buy you the best one in the world."

One year in high school, he came down with a high fever of 103.6 degrees.

While he was out of it, he mumbled, "Mom, don't worry about me. I'll be fine. One day, I'll get into a top college, make good money, and take care of you. I won't let anything bring me down."

The day he got into college, he called me. "Mom, I made it. This is all because of you. You raised me all by yourself. Mom, I love you!"

The year he graduated, I handed over the White Group to him.

He smiled, "Mom, you've worked so hard. I promise I won't ever bring you shame." His eyes were full of light when he said that.

At that moment, I was filled with pride and happiness. See? Even without Mark, my son and I would be fine.

I saw my son as my whole world. I thought I meant the world to him, too. If he hadn't wanted to marry the daughter of my enemy, how could I have ever said no?

But he could understand his father, who hadn't cared about him for twenty years. He could empathize with the mistress who ruined his happy family. He could accept their daughter. Yet he couldn't understand me.

I couldn't hold back my tears after all. My memories of Ryan were full of warmth and tenderness.

But the son standing before me now was someone who stood there in silence when others insulted me.

He would get down on his knees and beg me to let him marry my enemy's daughter.

And he would say it was bad for the baby to see when my face was covered in blood.

In my previous life, I refused to believe the truth, even to my dying breath.

I tried everything, slashing my wrists, swallowing sleeping pills, and threatening to end it all over and over, desperate to bring my son back to me.

He was never coming back. He'd been gone long before that. But I couldn't accept it.

This time, I was done chasing, begging, and throwing my life away for someone who never cared about me.