Chapter 2

"Derek, aren't you going to have some of the main course?" Seeing me unmoved, Vivian took the initiative to push the plate of beef toward me. "This beef is grilled really tender."

Looking at that plate of beef contaminated with Ethan's saliva, my stomach instantly churned with nausea.

"No need," I said flatly.

"Derek, what are you throwing a fit about now? You've been giving attitude ever since Ethan walked in. Our daughter's death was just an accident. Why do you insist on blaming Ethan?"

Vivian's voice turned cold.

I looked at her in confusion. Just as I was about to speak, Ethan interrupted in a low voice.

He stepped back half a pace behind Vivian, forcing out a smile: "Vivian, forget it. Derek has disliked me for more than just a day or two. I'll pack up and move out tonight. If those reporters want to block me, let them. It's not like I haven't had dirt thrown at me before."

"Don't talk nonsense. This is my house, and I'm the one who invited you to stay here. Derek has just been cooped up at home too long and his temper has gotten strange. Don't pay attention to him." Vivian comforted him gently.

Hearing these words, I felt nothing but numbness in my heart.

And so Ethan moved in.

He couldn't sit still for a moment, finding new ways every day to assert his presence in front of me.

I just thought there was something wrong with his brain.

Vivian had been so busy these past few days that she'd been sleeping at her office. Who was he performing for?

Too lazy to care, I turned back to watch TV, but caught sight of a small plush toy in the corner of the TV cabinet.

The toy was dusty, with one eye coming loose.

My heart seized painfully.

This was my daughter's favorite. How could it be here?

As I pondered this, Ethan suddenly reached from behind me and snatched the plush from my hands, his tone casual: "You scared me. I thought I'd lost it."

I stared at him. "This is yours?"

Ethan lifted his chin, a smug smile curling at the corner of his mouth: "Yeah, Vivian gave it to me. She said it really suits my temperament."

Vivian gave it to him? An image flashed through my mind of my daughter bouncing toward me in her pink tutu dress.

"Give it back." I extended my hand toward Ethan, my voice hoarse.

"Why should I? It's mine!"

"This was my daughter's. It can't possibly be yours!" I lunged forward, grabbing Ethan's wrist.

"Let go of me!" Ethan cried out.

The front door burst open and Vivian, who had left work early, rushed in.

Seeing this scene, she didn't say a word and shoved me away.

I crashed heavily into the corner of the coffee table, sharp pain radiating from my waist.

Vivian shielded Ethan, glaring at me furiously. "Derek, have you lost your mind?!"

I pointed at the plush toy, tears streaming down my face: "This was Mia's. Vivian, why is he saying it's yours?"

A flash of discomfort crossed Vivian's face.

"That was a gift I gave to Ethan! Are you going to snatch this away from him too? Is your illness not cured yet?!"

Those words were like ice water dumped over my head.

I stopped arguing, because I suddenly realized there was something seriously wrong with my memory.