Chapter 2
I couldn't get it. "You do your thing, and I do mine—why would anyone regret going their own way?"
Just then, another little boy performing on stage suddenly kicked over his stool. He shouted, "Dad, why do you only watch her and not me?"
He threw his violin with all his strength, and it smashed right into my daughter's back.
Amelie let out a cry.
She fell to the floor, and the violin crashed down beside her, its strings snapping in an instant.
The show was forced to stop, and the audience broke out in an uproar.
"Amelie!" I rushed onto the stage, my heart pounding. I checked her over, relieved to see she only had a few bruises on her back—nothing serious.
"Mom." Amelie looked at me with big, teary eyes, pointing at the broken necklace around her neck. "Grandma just gave this to me, and now it's broken..."
The necklace was worth 3 million dollars, but that didn't matter. What really hurt was that it was a gift from her grandma. I frowned and gently ruffled her hair to comfort her.
"It's okay, sweetie. I'll buy you a new one," I said softly.
Before I could even question the boy, a piercing and shrill shout erupted from behind me.
"That's a Vion! Do you have any idea how much this violin costs? Three hundred thousand dollars—it's a designer brand!" the woman screeched.
"How are you planning to pay for something this expensive? Got that kind of cash lying around?" she snapped at me, her tone sharp as a knife.
A glamorous pregnant woman stomped onto the stage in her high heels, snatching up the shattered violin with a look of utter heartbreak.
I instantly recognized her—it was Presley Hodges, Mathew's wife.
Mathew said, "Babe, our son was the one who started it."
Presley, furious, shot back, "Our boy's always well-behaved! He wouldn't smash a violin for no reason—clearly that little girl did something low first!"
She glanced at me, stunned for a few seconds, then snorted with a cold laugh.
"So that's why you're suddenly so generous, standing up for some stranger—it's your ex, Monica Morgan!" she sneered.
Mathew frowned. "Can we stick to the actual issue here? No need to dredge up old stories."
He pulled out a card from his wallet and placed it in front of me.
He glanced at me and said, "Running into you today was a surprise. I can tell life's been tough for you, but hey, I'm married now—so even if you regret it, it's pointless. My son started all this, so we'll pay for the medical bills.
"There's 3 thousand dollars on this card—get yourself some health supplements and take care of your stepdaughter. Your husband won't hold it against you."
"Still, a woman really ought to have her own kids. Otherwise, when you're no longer young and pretty, you'll get dumped sooner or later. Believe me, not everyone out there will give you as many chances as I did."
I almost burst out laughing—did he seriously believe his own nonsense?
In my past life, he failed at every business he touched. I was stuck working three jobs just to support him, always shielding his fragile ego, and forcing down pills day after day—just to try for a kid, just like he wanted.
Pain was all he ever gave me—chances? Give me a break!
And anyway, Amelie was definitely mine. As for his kid, he couldn't even be sure the boy was really his.
Just as I was about to shove the card back at him, Presley snatched it out of my hand.
She was practically fuming, but still tried to act like it didn't bother her at all.
"Honey! Sure, we can feel sorry for her, but you can't just pay her medical bills—it makes it look like our son did something wrong!" she snapped.
I glared right at her. "Let's be clear—your son hit my daughter with his violin out of nowhere."
Presley shot back with a mocking smile, "Out of nowhere? Ha! My boy was just putting that little homewrecker in her place. She's trying to chase after his dad and stir up old drama."
Her ridiculous accusations nearly made me lose it, but I had to reel myself in and keep my cool.
With Amelie standing right there, I didn't want her exposed to this mess.
I added, "Careful with your words, lady—I could sue you for slander. Let's not get it twisted: your son trashed his own violin. That's your problem. But the dress my daughter is wearing costs one million dollars, and the necklace your son broke? That's 3 million dollars. Medical bills are extra.
"So what's it gonna be—do we call the cops, or do you want to settle this between us right now?" I shot back.
"Three million dollars?" Presley bent down and yanked the necklace right off Amelie's neck, her face twisted with disgust. She chucked it aside like garbage, the necklace shattering into pieces before she stomped all over it in her heels, grinding it into the floor without a shred of remorse.
"Look at you, acting like the world's greatest stepmom—throwing a fit over a tiny bruise! So this is what you were waiting for, huh? Playing the loving act just to cause a scene," Presley mocked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
"Please. You're just another broke wannabe who's never seen anything real in her life. Don't think I'm as naïve as you—you expect me to believe that's not some cheap fake glass? Three million dollars? That's hilarious!" she scoffed.
"Come on, admit it—you still can't get my husband out of your head. I bet you're eating your heart out with regret right now," Presley sneered.
I looked down at the shredded necklace Presley was stomping to pieces, a mocking laugh bubbling up inside me. "Regret? Please. What on earth would I regret?"
Presley tipped her head up, gloating. "You ditched my husband back when he had nothing, only chasing after money. Well, check him out now—he's loaded, living it up in luxury brands and rolling in his fancy car. Don't even try to tell me you're not dying of regret looking at how things turned out."