Chapter 3

I looked up.

The woman stood in the entryway wearing dark gray dress pants and a white blouse with a black trench coat over it.

Her hair was pulled back tightly without a single stray strand.

Her features weren't stunning, but the lines were sharp---high cheekbones, eyes slightly upturned at the corners.

Her whole presence was like a freshly sharpened blade.

Behind her stood a man who looked like a driver, carrying several gift boxes.

"Hello." She looked at me, her voice not loud but every word clear.

"I'm a friend of your father's.

My last name is Sullivan.

You can call me Ms. Sullivan."

Sullivan.

I suddenly remembered---in my past life, Lily mentioned that woman's surname was Sullivan.

She never said the first name, only referring to her as "that Sullivan woman."

This was her.

I closed my book, stood up, and smiled slightly.

"Hello, Ms. Sullivan."

Ms. Sullivan's gaze lingered on me for two seconds, then she nodded and said to Dad, "Your daughter has better manners than you."

Dad opened his mouth but couldn't get words out.

I smiled inwardly.

Dad in front of Ms. Sullivan was like a cat grabbed by the scruff of its neck---uncomfortable all over.

That day, Ms. Sullivan stayed for lunch.

She sat at the dining table with her spine perfectly straight, using her fork with extreme precision, only her fingers moving when cutting, her wrist motionless.

Dad had made steak.

She ate two pieces, then set down her fork and seriously commented, "Very delicious."

Dad's expression showed a mixture of relief and happiness... it was complicated.

I couldn't help wanting to laugh but held it in, lowering my head to eat.

Ms. Sullivan turned to look at me.

"Who helps you with your homework normally?"

"I do it myself," I said.

"What are your test scores?"

"First in the class for math and science, third for English."

She raised an eyebrow, seemingly a bit surprised.

Then she glanced at Dad with a look that clearly said: Your luck is pretty good.

Dad still couldn't get words out.

After that day, Ms. Sullivan came to the house more and more frequently.

At first, she came for weekend meals, then it became three or four times a week.

Eventually, her toothbrush appeared in the bathroom cup, her slippers in the shoe cabinet.

Dad never formally discussed this with me.

He probably didn't know how to bring it up.

In the end, Ms. Sullivan said it herself.

That day she came carrying a document folder.

She sat across from me and pushed the folder to the middle of the table.

"Take a look?"

I opened it.

Inside was a copy of a property deed with her name on it, bank statements, and a printed A4 sheet with text in a standard font: Victoria Sullivan, female, forty-four years old, unmarried, no children, works in government.

"The basic situation is all here," Ms. Sullivan's tone was like giving a work report.

"I'm together with your father.

If you don't agree, we'll treat this as if I never brought it up."

I looked at those documents and suddenly felt like laughing.

But I knew that in my past life, Lily hadn't agreed.

According to her, she made a huge scene---throwing things, going on a hunger strike, crying in front of Dad for a whole week.

Later, Dad and Ms. Sullivan got married anyway, but Lily never accepted her.

The two fought openly and secretly for years until Ms. Sullivan and Dad eventually divorced.

I actually thought it was fine.

Dad had become visibly happier.

As long as he was happy, that was good.

"Of course I agree," I said, pushing the folder back and looking into Ms. Sullivan's eyes.

"As long as you two are good together."

Ms. Sullivan paused.

Just for a moment, but I caught it.

On her perpetually poker face, something extremely faint---something like softness---flickered across.

"Mm," she said, taking back the folder and standing up.

"I'm going out to buy groceries.

We'll have fish tonight."

I thought I saw her blush.

As she changed shoes at the door, I heard her say quietly, "This child is much better than her father."

I pretended not to hear.

The wedding was simple---no big production, just getting the marriage certificate at the courthouse and having dinner with both families.

A few relatives from Ms. Sullivan's side came, all people who didn't talk much but had powerful presences.

They dressed simply but carried an indescribable elegance in their movements.

Among them was a boy who looked slightly older than me, maybe fourteen or fifteen.