Chapter 4
Sarah was still awake.
She sat at the dressing table, gently stroking Anna's hair.
Anna had been frightened today and insisted on sleeping with her.
Now, the little girl was sound asleep, but a trace of unease still lingered on her face.
Sarah sighed, thinking about what had happened tonight.
She thought of Olivia. Her dirty little face and that timid "Daddy."
To be honest, the first time she saw that kid, she had a strange feeling inside.
It wasn't all disgust.
There was also an inexplicable feeling of closeness.
Especially when Olivia looked up at her with those eyes so much like her own, she felt a sudden pang in her heart.
She wondered, 'How could this be? I must be losing my mind.
'She's a servant's child. A crude, uneducated little bastard who already knows how to lie.'
Sarah shook her head, trying to shake off those ridiculous thoughts.
Just then, she heard a faint, muffled whimper.
The sound was coming from the balcony.
She froze for a moment and wondered who could be out there at this hour.
Sarah stood up and quietly walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, pulling back a corner of the curtain.
Under the moonlight, a small, thin figure was huddled in the corner of the balcony.
It was Olivia.
She hugged her knees, buried her head in her arms, her tiny shoulders shaking with suppressed sobs.
She was crying, so heartbroken and helpless, yet she was too afraid to let her sobs grow too loud.
Perhaps she was afraid of waking someone up, or perhaps she was afraid of letting anyone see how broken she was.
Sarah's heart clenched painfully.
She didn't know what was wrong with her.
She couldn't stand Olivia this afternoon.
But when she watched her cry all alone in the cold night, her heart ached.
Before she knew it, she found herself opening the balcony door.
"What are you doing out here so late?" she asked.
Her voice came out softer than she'd expected.
Olivia flinched at the sound.
She slowly looked up, and as soon as she saw Sarah, panic filled her eyes.
She quickly got up from the ground, standing there nervously.
"I-I'm sorry, Mrs. Grant. I-I didn't mean to." My voice was nasal and rough, sounding so pitiful.
"I-I'm scared to go back. Mom said she'd break my legs."
Tears started streaming down my face.
Sarah's brows furrowed. "She wanted to hit you?"
"Yeah," I nodded, my hand going to my swollen cheek.
Under the moonlight, the handprint was more obvious.
Sarah's gaze locked onto my face, her eyes sharpening with focus.
She reached out, as if she wanted to comfort me, but her hand froze in midair.
It was like she was put off by how dirty I looked.
I caught the hesitation in her eyes.
I sneered inwardly, but made myself look more pitiful on the outside.
I lowered my head and whispered, "It's okay, Mrs. Grant. I'm not in pain.
"Mom said it was my fault for making Miss Grant upset, so I deserved it.
"As long as you don't kick me out, I don't care if I get hit.
"Please, I don't want to go to the orphanage.
"The maid said kids at the orphanage never have enough to eat and always get bullied."
Every word I said hit Sarah in the heart, sharp as a needle.
Sarah had always lived a pampered life. She had never encountered anything like this before.
She thought, 'A three-year-old is begging not to be kicked out, saying she'd rather take a beating than be sent away. How hopeless must she feel?'
For the first time, Sarah felt a bit of anger toward Margaret. Anyway, Margaret couldn't abuse her child.
"You come inside first. It's cold out here," Sarah finally said after a long silence.
I froze for a second, like I couldn't believe what I was hearing.
I looked up at her, my eyes full of gratitude.
"Thank you, Mrs. Grant," I whispered.
I stepped into the room carefully and froze right at the edge of the carpet, not daring to take another step.
I kept my head down, not daring to look at her or at any of the luxurious decorations in the room.
I acted like a kid from the slums who'd accidentally wandered into a palace.
I felt small and insecure, but couldn't help being a little curious.
Seeing me standing there, Sarah felt her annoyance fade away, replaced by a wave of pity.
"Your name is Olivia?" she asked.
"Yeah," I nodded.
"Who gave you that name?" Sarah asked.
"Margaret," I replied. "She said she found me under a pomelo tree."
Sarah fell silent.
She looked at me, then at Anna, who was sleeping soundly in bed.
One got abandoned under a pomelo tree.
The other was cherished and adored like a princess.
'Life really isn't fair,' Sarah thought.
At that time, I caught a sweet, fruity scent in the air.
It was a plate of sliced mangoes sitting on the nightstand.
It was Anna's midnight snack.
My eyes were glued to the plate of mangoes.
Suddenly, pure terror washed over my face.
I couldn't help but step back, shaking all over.
"No, no," I screamed. "Don't... Don't eat that. If you do, you'll die!"
I totally freaked out, as if I'd seen a plate of deadly poison.
Sarah was startled by my outburst.
"What's wrong?" she asked in confusion.
"That stuff is poisonous!" I pointed at the mangoes, my hand trembling.
"I-I saw it before. There was a kid in my village who ate this, and then his whole body got covered in red spots, and then he died," I continued.
I made up a lie, hoping she'd believe me.
Sarah was stunned. 'Mangoes? Poisonous?'
Of course, she knew mangoes weren't poisonous.
But she also knew that everyone in her family was allergic to mangoes.
For some, it meant a rash, but for others, it could really be fatal.
It was a hereditary family secret.
Only immediate family knew. No one else could know.
Looking at Olivia, Sarah wondered why she was reacting like this to mangoes.
Like Richard, Sarah found herself harboring a thought so absurd that even she could hardly believe it.
She stared at me, her eyes wide with shock and disbelief.
Then she glanced at Anna on the bed, the girl who loved mangoes.
A wild thought was screaming in her mind.
'Could this be my real daughter? Then who is the one sleeping in the bed?' Sarah wondered.
At that moment, her whole world started to crumble.