Chapter 4

Three days later, Charlotte stood at the entrance of the villa, giving the house she had lived in for three years one last look.

Her luggage was packed, just one suitcase. She didn't take any of the designer clothes, jewelry, or handbags Edward had gifted her.

All Charlotte brought were a few old outfits of her own, a photo of her mother, and a bank card holding the money she had saved for living expenses over the past three years. She never spent any of the money Edward gave her.

She left the twenty million untouched.

The baby was still there.

That day by the river, Charlotte sat for the whole afternoon. She watched the water flowing endlessly eastward, the sun slowly sinking, and the city gradually lighting up as night fell.

She had a lot on her mind.

Charlotte remembered her mother holding her hand on her deathbed, saying, "Charlotte, you have to be okay."

She thought about all the years she had spent on her own, all the hardships she had endured. And she thought about that little one inside her, whose heart was already beating.

In the end, Charlotte tossed the two boxes of pills into the river.

She couldn't bring herself to do it.

She could live without love, she could be someone else's substitute, she could endure being despised, but she couldn't let an innocent life suffer for her own mistakes.

Edward didn't want the baby, but Charlotte did.

That was her child, her one and only family.

On the day she left, Edward wasn't there. Charlotte didn't know where he was, and she didn't care. She left the keys on the shoe cabinet by the door, dragged her suitcase, and walked out.

As she reached the doorway, she turned back for one last look.

The living room was as it had always been, the same old sofa still in place. She had sat there countless times, waiting for someone who would never come home early.

She had looked out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the darkness outside, imagining she was a bird trapped in a cage.

Now the cage was open, and she was ready to fly away.

"Mrs. Foster?" The housekeeper's voice came from behind. Charlotte turned around and saw her standing at the door, groceries in hand, her face full of surprise.

"Are you...?" the housekeeper asked.

"I'm leaving," Charlotte replied with a gentle smile. "Thank you for looking after me these past three years."

The housekeeper stood there, stunned, her eyes growing red. "Mrs. Foster, are you and Mr. Foster...?"

"It's nothing," Charlotte replied. "It's just that our time together is over."

She pulled her suitcase and headed out.

"Mrs. Foster!" The housekeeper hurried after her, pulling a few bills from her pocket and pressing them into Charlotte's hand. "This is... a little something from me. You're going to be out there all by yourself, so please take care."

Charlotte looked at the money in her hand, and tears threatened to fall.

She quietly accepted the money, not refusing it.

"Thank you," Charlotte said softly.

She turned and left, never looking back.

Charlotte stepped out of the villa neighborhood and hailed a taxi. The driver glanced at her and asked, "Where to?"

Charlotte watched the villa shrink in the distance through the window and answered, "The airport."

The taxi rolled onto the main road, blending into the stream of cars. Charlotte leaned her head against the glass, watching the city she had lived in for five years slide past.

All the familiar streets, landmarks, and memories slowly faded away behind her.

Goodbye, Olianken.

Goodbye, Edward.

I would never come back.

As the plane took off, Charlotte watched the city shrink outside the window, placing her hand gently on her stomach.

"Baby, we're going home," she whispered. "Back to where Mommy grew up. There are mountains, rivers, and so many trees. You're going to love it."

The plane broke through the clouds, and sunlight streamed in, warm and bright.

Charlotte closed her eyes, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

*****

Five years later, at the entrance of an international kindergarten in Betrico, "Ryan, hurry up, we're going to be late!" Charlotte said.

Charlotte stood by the car, watching the little one dawdling by the flower bed. Five-year-old Ryan was crouched down, totally focused on an ant.

"Mommy, the ants are moving," Ryan looked up, asking seriously. "My teacher said when ants move, it means it's going to rain. Do we still have to go to school today?"

"Even if it rains, we still have to go to school," Charlotte said, walking over and picking him up. "And just because the ants are moving doesn't mean it's definitely going to rain today. It's just something that might happen."

"What does that mean?" Ryan asked.

"It means it could happen, or maybe it won't," Charlotte explained.

"So why do ants move before it rains?" Ryan asked.

"Because..." Charlotte began, but trailed off.

Charlotte felt a headache coming on. Her son had been a little why machine since he was born, always full of endless questions. Sometimes he left her completely stumped, and she wished she could put him back in the womb.

"Alright, alright, get in the car. I'll explain on the way," Charlotte said.

Charlotte put Ryan in his car seat, made sure he was strapped in, then went around to the driver's side and started the car.

Five years was enough to turn someone's life completely around.

Charlotte was no longer the meek substitute wife she once was. Now, she was the founder of an independent design studio, gaining some recognition in Betrico.

Five years ago, she returned to her hometown and used her savings to open a tiny floral studio. Bit by bit, she grew it from a solo venture into a team of more than a dozen, expanding from floral arrangements to interior styling.

Life wasn't glamorous, but it was steady and real.

Most importantly, Ryan was with her.

Ryan had inherited his father's brains; he was insanely smart. By two, he could recite ancient poems; at three, he was doing math; by four, he was reading encyclopedias; and at five, he was already debating dinosaur extinction with his kindergarten teacher.

But he completely skipped his father's coldness. Ryan was bubbly and outgoing, flashing a smile at everyone he met; he was the darling of the entire kindergarten.

"Mommy, can we get ice cream after school today?" Ryan asked from the back seat.

"Sure," Charlotte replied.

"Can I have two?" Ryan asked.

"No," Charlotte said firmly.

"Why?" Ryan asked.

"Because if you eat too much, your tummy will hurt," Charlotte explained.

"But if my tummy hurts, I can just take medicine, and then I'll be fine. So can I have two?" Ryan asked, trying to bargain.

Charlotte sighed. "Ryan, hush now."

Ryan's giggles filled the back seat.

Charlotte caught his reflection in the rearview mirror; his eyes curved into little crescents as he grinned.

She couldn't help but smile, too.

At the kindergarten entrance, Charlotte parked the car and helped Ryan out. As they approached the gate, someone called out, "Charlotte?"

Charlotte turned around and saw a well-dressed man standing nearby. She froze for a second, then realized who it was. He was Edward's assistant, James Reed.

It was the first time in five years she ran into someone she once knew.

James walked over, his gaze settling on Ryan, and his face showed mixed emotions.

"Is this..." James said.

"He's my son," Charlotte replied calmly. "Ryan, say hello to Mr. Reed."

"Hello, Mr. Reed," Ryan said sweetly.

James stared at Ryan's face, which was practically a carbon copy of Edward's, and for a moment, he was at a loss for words.

Charlotte handed Ryan over to the teacher, then turned back to James, asking, "When did you get to Betrico?"

"Last week," James said, taking a deep breath. "Charlotte, Mr. Foster is in Betrico, too. He's here for a business deal, and I didn't expect..."

"Didn't expect to run into me?" Charlotte smiled. "Betrico's a big city; chances are we wouldn't bump into each other. I've got something to take care of, so I'll head out."

"Charlotte," James called out. "Mr. Foster... he's never stopped searching for you these five years."

Charlotte stopped in her tracks.

"After you left, he lost his mind," James said. "He turned Olianken upside down, trying to find you. When he finally discovered you'd moved to Betrico, he came here, too. He..."

"James," Charlotte cut him off. "You don't need to bring this up to me. It's over between him and me; it ended five years ago."

Charlotte turned and walked on.

"He's sick," James called out behind her. "It's early-stage gastric cancer. He's been recuperating ever since the operation. He..."

Charlotte stopped in her tracks.

Gastric cancer?

Charlotte stood there with her back to James, lost in silence for what felt like ages.

Then she turned around, her face composed. Charlotte said, "Wish him a speedy recovery."

She got in the car and drove off.

In the rearview mirror, James was still standing there, watching as her car faded further and further into the distance.

Charlotte turned her attention back to driving, focusing on the road ahead.

Her phone rang; it was a call from the studio. She answered, and her assistant, Yuri, said, "Charlotte, the client for this afternoon is confirmed. Three o'clock at our studio."

"Got it," Charlotte replied.

After hanging up, Charlotte glanced at the rearview mirror again. The kindergarten was out of sight, and so was James.

Gastric cancer?

Edward had gastric cancer?

Charlotte told herself it had nothing to do with her.

Five years ago, Edward made it clear—Grace was the one he truly wanted. Five years ago, he accused me of getting pregnant on purpose. Five years ago, he told me to end the pregnancy.

I hated him.

I should hate him.

But why did my heart still hurt for a moment when I heard he was sick?

Charlotte took a deep breath and pushed those feelings down.

It didn't matter anymore.

I had Ryan, my career, and a new life.

Edward had nothing to do with me anymore.