Chapter 2

Hazel caught my movement, reached out to grab my finger, and gave me a big gummy smile while making those adorable baby noises.

In that moment, my heart just melted into a puddle.

Just like last time, after Mom came back home from the hospital, Karen came to resign. She explained she didn't want her little girl to grow up without a father, so she planned to return to her hometown and give her daughter a whole family from the start.

Just as Mom was about to say yes, I chimed in, "Mom, why don't you help Karen bring her husband here? That way, her child could stay and grow up here too—and Hazel would have a playmate."

Mom's eyes sparkled, and she agreed immediately, not giving Karen the slightest chance to turn her down.

I smiled.

Sure, I could've just sent Emma back to let Karen torment her all she wanted, but honestly? There was no way I'd pass up any opportunity to watch her struggle.

Oh, and almost forgot, the fake heiress was called Emma Cohen in this life.

Back in my previous life, Mom barely gave Emma a second thought. As soon as she was back from the hospital, she dumped Emma on Karen and never bothered with her again. Dad hid behind his work, only casting a token glance at Emma when he came home at night.

I ended up being the one who actually looked after her.

Once, Emma ran a high fever. Mom was busy at a beauty salon, Dad was stuck at the office, and it was just me—a ten-year-old kid—and Karen dragging Emma to the hospital.

Funny how all that effort just raised a little backstabber in the end.

This time, with "the biological daughter" right in front of her, Karen was bound to give her full attention.

Just as I expected, Karen watched over Hazel like she was a treasure—there was no need for the maternity nurse at all.

Whenever Hazel cried, Karen was always the first to check on her.

If Hazel developed even the smallest rash, Karen would panic and race her to the hospital—and when she came back, she didn't even ask Mom for the doctor's fee.

Meanwhile, Emma could be wailing her heart out alone in her room, and not a single soul would come to check on her.

Strangely enough, I never once heard Emma cry at night, and even during the day when Mom and Dad were home, she barely ever cried.

That was, until one day, I caught Karen slipping some powder into Emma's formula.

When Karen noticed me standing there, she rushed to explain, "Ms. Moore, this is Emma's formula. She's had a bit of a cold lately, so I'm just giving her some cold medicine."

[Cold medicine? Please, that's clearly sleeping pills.]

[Oh my god, isn't that dangerous, giving sleeping pills to a baby?]

[Of course it is. It could mess up her development and even damage her organs. My poor FL.]

I smirked to myself, feeling pleased.

I couldn't be happier with how things were going.

"Just make sure Hazel doesn't get it," I told Karen, then went back to my room to spend time with Hazel.

Maybe all those sleeping pills really did a number on Emma's development, because by the time Hazel was already talking, Emma was still just babbling away.

And when Hazel finally spoke, she looked right at me, and her very first word was, "Melissa!"

I was so happy I almost cried.

Mom, standing nearby, didn't look too pleased.

"Most kids say 'Mom' or 'Dad' first. Why did Hazel say 'Melissa'?" Mom complained.

Dad just shrugged it off. "Melissa spends more time with her than you do every day. It's only natural that Hazel would say 'Melissa' first. If you spend more time with her, she'll get closer to you."

Not gonna lie, I wasn't surprised at all that Dad always had my back.

This year, with a little heads-up from me, he scored a major project.

He was kind of superstitious—now he totally thought I was the family's lucky charm.

And honestly, I loved every second of it.

Emma didn't start talking until she was almost two years old—maybe it was all those sleeping pills slowing her down, maybe something else. It was obvious something was off, but who was actually paying attention?

Honestly, aside from some people in the comment section, nobody cared at all.

Time flew by, and before I knew it, seven or eight years had passed.

Thanks to all the effort I put into it, Hazel and I were practically inseparable—she was always glued to my side, like my little shadow.

Even though we all lived under one roof, Hazel was spoiled rotten, treated like royalty, while Emma was always running around at Karen's command, saddled with chores that never seemed to end.