My father has severe face blindness. Forty years ago, someone drugged my father, and he spent the night with my mother. But he couldn't tell them apart—he married the mistress who took my mother's place. Later, my father and the mistress became high society's model couple. Meanwhile, my mother was slut-shamed for being pregnant out of wedlock and never married. Forty years passed. Thanks to my exceptional beauty and talent, I married into the Caldwell family—the wealthiest family in New York—and gave birth to an heir. The day my son brought his girlfriend home, I froze. Looking at her face—three parts similar to my father's—and learning her name, I knew immediately: she was my father's granddaughter. She wants to marry my son? In her dreams. "Mom, this is Rayna. My girlfriend. I brought her home to meet you." I shifted my gaze to Rayna Smith. She was undeniably beautiful, radiating the delicate air of someone raised in luxury. She held a gift in both hands, offering it to me with a sweet voice: "Hello, Mrs. Caldwell. This is a gift I brought for you." I didn't take it. The living room fell silent. Adrian looked at me, then at her, calling softly: "Mom?" I didn't look at him, only saying: "Adrian, go upstairs. I want to talk with Miss Smith privately." He hesitated, then nodded. "Okay." Only Rayna Smith and I remained in the living room. The moment Adrian left, the sweet smile on Rayna's face vanished completely. She tossed the gift onto the table and looked me up and down without courtesy. "Mrs. Caldwell." She spoke, her voice the same but her tone dripping with superiority. "You sent your son away to lecture me?" I said nothing. "Fine, let's lay our cards on the table." "I've heard about you. You're from out of town, no background, married into the wealthiest Caldwell family purely by luck." "I know your type—women without background who can't stand seeing someone like me with good breeding. You're afraid I'll marry in and steal your spotlight, right?" "You know perfectly well that the only thing you have going for you is that face. Unfortunately, faces age." Rayna's gaze held a condescending scrutiny. "But I'm different." "My grandfather, Richard Smith, is a billionaire in New York. I attended the best private schools and moved in New York's top socialite circles." She paused, as if giving me time to digest this information. "Mrs. Caldwell, I've looked into you. You have no family. Your parents are long gone." "Someone with your background could only marry into the wealthiest Caldwell family because Mr. Caldwell liked you. But how long does a man's affection last?" "You're forty now, right? In a few years when age catches up with you, what will you have to compete with those young girls?" "But I'm different. I have the Smith family behind me. Even if things don't work out with Adrian, I'm still a Smith family granddaughter. No one dares touch me." "And you? Without the Caldwell family, what do you have left?" She looked at me like I was pitiful. "Mrs. Caldwell, be smart. If I really want to marry into the Caldwell family, you can't stop me." "Rather than making things ugly, give me this favor now. After I marry in, I'll still show you some respect."
My expression didn't change. I set my teacup on the table with a crisp sound. "Are you finished?" Her smile froze. I looked at her. "You say you're the Smith family's beloved granddaughter—do you know how your grandmother married into the Smith family?" Rayna frowned. "What do you mean?" I smiled. "You want to enter the Caldwell family?" "Dream on." Rayna shot to her feet. "Mrs. Caldwell, you'd better think carefully. After how you treated me today, when I marry in, we won't have a good mother-in-law and daughter-in-law relationship!" I laughed coldly. "Don't worry. As long as I'm here, you'll never marry into the Caldwell family." She grabbed her bag from the table and turned to leave. "You'll regret this!" Regret? The biggest regret of my life was not tearing these people's masks off for my mother to see while she was still alive. Now she can't see it. That's okay. I'll do it for her to see. The next day, the housekeeper came to report: "Mrs. Caldwell, someone from the Smith family is here." I set down my book. The housekeeper led in a woman. Vivian Smith—the mistress who took my mother's place all those years ago, now the matriarch of the Smith family. She wore a blue gown with pearl earrings, the picture of luxury. "Mrs. Caldwell, I'm Rayna's grandmother. I'd like to discuss the children's situation with you." She pulled out a document from her bag and placed it on the table. "This is the development rights for the Smith family's land in the South District. Your husband Marcus Caldwell has been eyeing it for a long time, hasn't he?" "As long as you agree to let the children be together, this land is the Caldwell family's." I looked down at her hands. They were white, delicate, with a gemstone ring on her ring finger larger than my thumbnail. These hands clearly had never touched dirty water. My mother's hands weren't like this. Her hands did all kinds of dirty work year-round—dishwashing, cleaning—the dirt under her nails could never be washed away. They were like that until she died. "Vivian," I looked up, "my son's affairs don't need interference from outsiders." Her expression darkened. "Mrs. Caldwell, though the Smith family isn't as wealthy as the Caldwell family, Rayna is the Smith family's only granddaughter. We've cherished her since childhood." "Your son marrying her would be his blessing. You, someone who..." She paused, emphasizing the words "someone who." "You, someone who married into the Caldwell family halfway through, better know your place." Halfway through. She chose those words well. "Not enough?" She glanced at the envelope on the table. "Then name your price." I looked at her face. "Vivian," my tone was flat, "the Caldwell family chooses daughters-in-law based on upbringing and character. In both areas, neither the Smith family nor your granddaughter seem quite adequate." "What did you say?!"
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.
"Mrs. Caldwell." He nodded, his voice unhurried—the kind of composure cultivated by decades of being respected. "Pardon the intrusion. I'm Richard Smith." "Mr. Smith, please sit." He sat down, looking up at me. "Mrs. Caldwell, I'm here today about the children." He paused and smiled. "Rayna is my granddaughter. She's been spoiled since childhood, but she's not bad-hearted. If the young people get along, we elders should help them if we can." He set down his thermos and interlaced his fingers over his knee. "I know Mrs. Caldwell fought her way up on her own. Not easy. No family wealth, no backing—getting where you are today alone is truly admirable." "But precisely because it wasn't easy, you should understand better—some opportunities, once missed, are gone forever." He pulled out a document from his briefcase and pushed it across the table. "This is a three-year strategic cooperation framework between the Smith and Caldwell families. As long as the children's matter is settled, we can sign this cooperation tomorrow." He looked at me with a certain confidence in his eyes. The confidence of someone who's been respected all their life and assumes their requests should be granted. I didn't move. "Mrs. Caldwell." His tone remained unhurried. "You're still young. Though the Caldwell family is the wealthiest, their foundation isn't deep enough. With Smith family support, your position in the Caldwell family will be more secure." He was coaching me. He was telling me that as a woman who married into the Caldwell family halfway through, with no background or backing, I needed Smith family support to secure my position. He didn't know. The woman sitting before him was his daughter whom he'd never met. Forty years ago, he personally drove my mother out of New York. Forty years later, he sat here, looking down at me, asking me to give his granddaughter a chance to marry into the Caldwell family. "Mr. Smith," I looked up into his eyes, "my son's affairs don't need interference from outsiders." His brow furrowed slightly. "Outsiders?" His expression darkened. "Mrs. Caldwell, aren't you taking yourself too seriously?" "I came here personally as a courtesy. In New York, people I'd personally visit can be counted on one hand." He looked at me, his gaze turning cold. "But since you're being ungrateful..." "Remember this—today you rejected me. Whatever consequences follow, don't say I didn't warn you!" After Richard Smith left, New York's elite circles were full of gossip about me. "Mrs. Caldwell won't agree to her son marrying the Smith family granddaughter? Who does she think she is?" "I heard she's from out of town, no roots or foundation, got her position years ago by her looks." "Richard Smith personally visited and she still played hard to get? She really doesn't know her place." I sat at home, reading messages on my phone one by one. Someone sent me anonymous texts: "Who do you think you are? Without the Caldwell family, you're nothing." Someone left comments on Caldwell Corporation's page: "Mr. Caldwell, control your wife. Don't let her ruin the Smith-Caldwell cooperation." Others dug up photos from my youth, saying I'd had plastic surgery, that I'd climbed up by escorting clients. Each comment had hundreds of people agreeing. I didn't delete them. Didn't respond either. A week later. New York's largest charity auction gala. The Smith family was one of the hosts. In the banquet hall, Rayna Smith held Richard Smith's arm, smiling radiantly. When Rayna saw Adrian, her smile froze momentarily. She hurried over and grabbed Adrian's hand. "Adrian, why haven't you answered my messages these past few days?" Adrian glanced at me and pulled his hand away. "Rayna, until my mother approves of us being together, we should keep our distance." Rayna's face paled. She turned to look at me, her eyes filled with tangible hatred. "Mrs. Caldwell, are you satisfied now?" I ignored her. The gala began with Richard Smith taking the stage for opening remarks. "Distinguished guests, thank you all for your years of support." He stood on stage, smiling broadly. "Today, besides the charity auction, I have happy news to announce." The audience quieted. "My granddaughter Rayna Smith and Mr. Adrian Caldwell of the Caldwell family are in love and will soon be married. The Smith and Caldwell families will become in-laws." Applause erupted. He looked at me with triumphant confidence in his eyes. As if the Caldwell family was already in the Smith family's pocket. I stood up. "Mr. Smith." The applause stopped. Everyone looked at me. I walked onto the stage and stood before him. "Mr. Smith, who told you the two families were becoming in-laws?" His smile froze momentarily. "The young people are in love, we elders—" "I don't agree!" The room erupted. Richard Smith's face darkened. "Mrs. Caldwell, whatever you want to say, we can discuss privately. With so many people here today—" I turned to face the hundreds of eyes below. "Richard Smith, do you know what you're doing?! You're having your biological granddaughter and biological grandson get engaged—do you want the world to laugh at you?!"
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