Chapter 3

Vivian's eyes locked onto me.

"Mrs. Caldwell, do you think marrying into the Caldwell family makes you somebody?"

She stood up, looking down at me.

"You, a woman of unknown origins with no family background—what got you where you are today? Don't you know in your heart?"

Her gaze swept down from my face like a knife, from chin to chest.

"Old Richard and I have spent forty years building roots in New York, accumulating connections and relationships you can't buy by serving a man for a few years. Don't refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit."

I looked at her calmly.

People who steal others' lives can't change their core nature.

No matter how expensive the gown or how fine the jewelry, that sharp meanness seeps out the moment they open their mouths.

"Finished?"

I stood up, took the envelope from the table, and pushed it back into her hands.

"Vivian, please leave. Your granddaughter's matter is not up for discussion."

As the door closed, I heard from behind:

"Ungrateful thing."

I smiled slightly.

When my mother went to the Smith house to find my father years ago and was driven out, she heard the exact same words.

Identical.

That evening, Adrian knocked on my door.

"Mom, can I come in?"

He sat across from me, silent for a long while.

"Mom, about Rayna... I want to know why."

I looked into his eyes.

Very serious, but without anger or interrogation.

He'd always been like this—obedient and never causing me worry.

"Mom," he said again, "you must have your reasons for not approving of Rayna. I just... want to know why."

My hand rested on my knee. I clenched it, then released.

Not yet time.

"Adrian," I said, "Mom can't tell you right now. But do you trust me?"

He looked at me without hesitation.

"I do."

He stood up, walked to the door, then turned back.

"Mom, I've already told Rayna to go back. Until you approve, I won't bring her home again."

The door closed.

I sat there, my eyes warming.

This child had never given me a day of worry since he was small.

When he started kindergarten, while other children cried and fussed, he didn't cry.

He held my hand and said, "Mommy, go to work. I'll be good."

I'm not trying to break up a romance, but his grandfather and Rayna Smith's grandfather are the same person.

By all rights, I could never approve this marriage.

The next day.

When the housekeeper came in, her expression was odd.

"Mrs. Caldwell, Mr. Smith is here."

My hand clenched inside my sleeve.

"Show him in."

When he walked in, I recognized him immediately—the man my mother thought about for decades, my biological father.

His hair had gone completely white but was neatly combed.

He wore a black Mandarin-collar suit with pure gold buttons on the cuffs that caught the light.

Two burly bodyguards followed him.

Quite the display.

He stood at the door, his gaze sweeping over me without any reaction.

He didn't recognize me.

He never knew he had a daughter like me in this world.