Chapter 2

At my words, Mom's face instantly flushed crimson. Without thinking, she clapped her hand over my mouth.

"You naughty child! Can't even admit when you've done something wrong!" she muttered angrily.

I stared at her face, twisted with guilt, and a bitter mix of hatred and fury surged within me. That face, in my past life, had utterly destroyed everything I had.

I knew why she had kleptomania. She always felt Grandpa and Grandma were unfair when she was a kid, giving everything that should have been hers to her younger sister, Sarah. But I remembered clearly: from childhood, Sarah always wore Brenda's hand-me-downs and played with her discarded toys. Even so, this baseless sense of being deprived clung to Mom like a poisonous vine her entire life.

After she got married, she started shopping uncontrollably, piling up mountains of credit card debt she couldn't repay. After my dad left, things got even worse. She could only find a twisted, pathetic thrill in stealing.

I used to feel sorry for her. I naively believed that if I grew up, earned money, and gave her the best things in the world, I could cure her.

But I was wrong.

Every time she was caught, she never hesitated to throw me under the bus. From a simple green onion at the farmer's market to my mother-in-law's gold necklace at my wedding, she built her clean escape on the ruins of my reputation and life.

I was universally condemned, called a gold-digger, rejected by everyone, and finally, I leaped into the icy river in despair.

Not this life. I wouldn't be her scapegoat again.

I couldn't save her, but I absolutely had to save myself.

My memories flooded back, and the stares from everyone around the checkout felt like needles pricking my skin.

I forcibly pried Mom's hand away, using all my strength to shout in my little voice, "My kindergarten teacher said that in the store, little hands can't touch things randomly! You have to wait for the cashier to 'beep' it, and for Mommy and Daddy to pay, only then can you touch it, or else it's stealing!"

"Mommy, you're so grown-up, why aren't you listening to the teacher? And why are you still stealing? Look, Lily is much more well-behaved than you!"

"Mommy, the teacher said if you steal, the police officer will catch you! Please put the candy back quickly, what if the police officer comes?"

I deliberately spoke quickly and with fear, letting tears well up in my eyes at just the right moment, perfectly portraying a good child terrified by an ill-behaved adult.