After witnessing my mother's devastatingly tragic marriage, I unexpectedly returned to the past and met my mother from ten years ago. My mother asked me excitedly: "Manuela, did your father hold a wedding for me after his undercover work ended? Did I successfully buy a new house in Seattle?" I swallowed the bitterness in my heart and answered one by one: "There was no wedding, no new house either. Dad... he already has a wife." My mother remained silent for a long time. Thinking she didn't believe me, I panicked: "Mom, leave Dad quickly. Staying near him will only bring you misery." "His real child is my classmate Julian. He's not undercover. He's the heir to Seattle's Christopher Group. He's been pretending to be poor to deceive you." "Later, Julian's mother will fight with you. You'll lose your job, end up on the streets, and eventually commit suicide from depression." I saw my mother's eyes turn red. "Today is Children's Day, isn't it? You must have seen Dad taking that mother and daughter to Disneyland, right?" "Go follow them and ask that woman. Once you ask, you'll understand everything."
My mother held five-year-old me as we approached Julian's mother, Henrichs. After learning that Julian and I were classmates, Henrichs invited us to eat together. She eagerly ordered an ice cream cone. When she noticed my mother's gaze landing on her belly, she smiled. "My husband is pretty strict with me. Since I got pregnant, he won't let me eat anything. I'm craving it so badly." My mother asked softly, "Are you due soon?" "Should be sometime this month. It's a boy." My mother smiled. "Your husband must be very happy." "Oh yes, he's so excited. It's our second child and he's still making such a fuss." My mother said wistfully, "You two have such a good relationship." Henrichs enjoyed my mother's words, the corners of her mouth lifting slightly. "It's alright. I once ran off to study abroad in a fit of anger, and he came all that way to find me." "To satisfy my vanity, he accompanied me to take ninety-nine sets of wedding photos." I couldn't help but think of the loving stories about her and Dad that my mother had told me countless times. She came to Seattle for college and fell in love at first sight with poor boy Dad. After graduation, they registered their marriage. My mother was considerate of Dad's work, so they had no wedding ceremony or honeymoon—just a marriage certificate. The photo on the marriage certificate was even photoshopped on, because Dad had no time to take pictures. The day after the wedding, Dad went abroad. Even after I was born, Dad never came home, never even held me. My mother would always console herself, saying Dad was just busy with work and couldn't get away. But the truth later cut her to shreds. Henrichs continued complaining sweetly: "My husband is so good to me. He even wants to arrange the most expensive maternity center in Seattle for me." "He won't let me do anything. He's practically spoiling me." My mother's hands trembled slightly. I remembered my mother saying she went to work without properly resting after childbirth, which left her with lasting health problems. She worked three hundred sixty-five days a year, never willing to rest. At this moment, Henrichs suddenly asked my mother: "What about your husband? Can't he even make time to spend Children's Day with his child?" My mother smiled bitterly. Henrichs seemed to understand and comforted her. "Actually, all men are like that. When I was abroad, my husband also found someone else." "But what's funny is that he pretended to be poor the whole time, afraid that woman would be after his money." "He's a CEO, but every day he ate street food with that woman. I actually felt kind of sorry for him." My mother forced a smile: "Really? What happened to that woman later?" Henrichs shrugged: "I think she had a daughter, got a fake certificate, and is probably living in some dump somewhere now." "Actually, she's pretty pathetic too. My husband even lied to her, saying he worked as some kind of undercover agent. She couldn't even get a decent house." "Tell me, what could she possibly see in my husband? Surely not love?" At that moment, a familiar voice rang out from behind us. "Henrichs, sneaking ice cream behind my back again."
I turned around. It was my father from ten years ago. He looked down at Henrichs, doting with a hint of helplessness. "The doctor said you can't eat cold things right now." Henrichs leaned toward him coquettishly. "I only had one bite. Don't be so mean." I secretly glanced at my mother. Her face was as white as paper, her eyes fixed on my father's back. My father saw my mother. His eyes were calm and still, as if looking at a stranger. I thought my mother would impulsively confront him, but instead she just held five-year-old me tightly without making a sound. After my father and Henrichs left, my mother silently cried. She showed me her phone. My father had sent her a message telling her not to make a scene. I kept wiping her tears, but they wouldn't stop. "Don't cry, Mom. He's not worth it." That night, my father came to the urban village where my mother lived. My mother punched and kicked him, crying her heart out. "Why did you lie to me? What do you take me for?" "Do you know that for all these years, our daughter has been mocked as a bastard child, told she has no father?" My father was silent for a while, then pulled out a card and stuffed it into my mother's hand. "There's a million dollars here. Take it, but don't make trouble with Henrichs." Previously, to maintain his pretense of being poor, my father never transferred more than a thousand dollars to my mother. Now he was giving a million at once. My mother looked down at the card and smiled mockingly. "Wallace, you deceived me for ten years. Is that only worth a million dollars?" "That's not what I mean. Manuela is about to start elementary school. Haven't you always wanted to buy a new house closer to school?" "I'll figure out the house situation, but not right now. Henrichs is watching me closely..." She threw the card at him. "Just leave. Don't come back anymore." "Montoya, calm down. I have my reasons..." I stood up and pushed my father. "Get out of here and stop harassing Mom!" My father's gaze paused, questioning my mother: "Who is she? Why is she calling you Mom?" My mother had no obligation to tell him. She pushed and kicked him out the door. After everything quieted down, my mother stared at the window where no moon could be seen. "Every time he lied to me about going abroad for missions, he was taking that mother and daughter on vacation?" My eyes dimmed. I nodded. While my mother worried whether he was eating and sleeping well abroad, he was watching the snow fall with Henrichs. All of Seattle's upper circles knew that my father was deeply devoted to Henrichs. The next day, my mother was supposed to go to work but was told she was fired. Thinking about next semester's tuition that would soon be due, my mother's voice rose anxiously: "You can't fire me without cause. I'll sue you." But the boss said, "Go ahead. But Mr. Wallace can handle this with one phone call. You should save yourself the trouble." My mother had no choice but to return to the rental house dejectedly, only to find all her belongings had been thrown out by the landlord. "I'm not renting this place to you anymore. You need to move out today." My heart sank: "Henrichs must have found out about you. We need to get back to Chicago quickly." I knew that because of my appearance, the timeline had moved up. Though Henrichs pretended not to care that my father kept a woman on the side, she was actually intensely jealous and wished she could skin my mother alive. But young Mom was more stubborn than I imagined. She was unwilling to give up on Seattle, where she had struggled for five years. After randomly finding a budget hotel to stay in, she began submitting resumes online. But without exception, all were rejected. Some people even mocked my mother directly: "Isn't being Mr. Wallace's mistress good enough? Why do you need to find work?" Henrichs even publicly attacked my mother online as a homewrecker, accusing her of taking my father's million dollars. Internet users followed the narrative and tore my mother apart. My mother fought back defiantly, posting chat records with my father to prove she wasn't a homewrecker. But those posts were quickly flagged as violations and prohibited from spreading. Little Manuela came back from kindergarten crying: "The other kids wouldn't play with me today. They said Mom stole Julian's dad..." My mother held her tightly. "Manuela, it's my fault. I'm so sorry..." After hitting wall after wall, she finally decided to leave Seattle.
But just before we left for the train station, little Manuela suddenly developed a high fever. My mother couldn't worry about the train. She carried me and ran to the hospital. "I'm sorry, miss, but the hospital is short-staffed." As soon as the doctor finished speaking, my mother fell to her knees. "Please, doctor, please! My daughter is only five years old. She's dying!" The doctor said helplessly: "Miss, it's really not that I won't save her. It's that Mr. Wallace's daughter caught a cold, and all our pediatric attending physicians have been transferred there." My mother rushed out of the hospital like a madwoman. She took a taxi and went from hospital to hospital asking, getting rejected at every single one. "Please, save my daughter!" But the answer was the same everywhere. All pediatric attending physicians had been transferred to the private hospital under the Henrichs Group. At that moment, my mother's mind went blank. She called my father with trembling hands. "Wallace, Manuela is dying... Please save her, please save her..." But my father demanded that my mother livestream an apology to Henrichs and admit to being a homewrecker before he would agree to have someone treat me. I knew what consequences my mother would face if she compromised. I shook my head, urging my mother to refuse. But my mother agreed immediately. She turned to me and said, "Being insulted doesn't matter, as long as my Manuela is healthy." My father, afraid that Henrichs would suffer even the slightest grievance, even promoted the livestream. Countless vicious comments flooded the comment section. My mother was quickly torn apart by abuse. The hashtag #Montoya Is A Homewrecker# quickly topped the trending list. Only then was my father satisfied. He was about to call a doctor to examine me. But at that very moment, Henrichs clutched her belly and cried out in pain. No one paid attention to my mother and me anymore. They all surrounded Henrichs. My mother anxiously grabbed the doctor. "Please look at my daughter first. She's really dying..." The doctor shook off my mother's hand. "Mrs. Henrichs's pregnancy is unstable. Everyone, out of the way!" My mother was pushed so hard she hit the wall. I quickly stepped forward to support her. "Mom, are you okay?" My mother didn't pay attention to me. She stumbled after them: "Please, just look at my daughter for a moment..." At that moment, a doctor rushed out frantically: "This is bad, Mr. Wallace! Your wife is hemorrhaging. She needs a blood transfusion immediately!" My father shouted at him, "Contact the blood bank now!" The doctor wiped his sweat. "But your wife has rare Rh-negative blood. The hospital's blood bank doesn't have a matching type..." My mother suddenly trembled, shakily trying to pull me away. At that moment, my father's gaze fell on little Manuela. He suddenly became somewhat excited. "Manuela... Manuela also has Rh-negative blood, right?"
My mother kept backing away: "No, my daughter is so small... She has so little blood. You can't take hers..." My father's assistant carefully spoke up: "Mr. Wallace, why don't I check other hospitals again? Maybe we can find another Rh-negative volunteer. The child really is too small." "There's no time." The doctor urged, "Mr. Wallace, please make a decision quickly. Your wife's blood pressure is dropping." At that moment, Henrichs's screams came from the delivery room, each one more agonizing than the last. Several bodyguards suddenly restrained my mother, preventing her from moving. My mother screamed, "Wallace, are you even human! She's only five years old!" I was about to step forward to help when a bodyguard beside me kicked me mercilessly, sending me sprawling to the ground. My father forcibly took little Manuela from my mother's arms. My mother struggled desperately: "Wallace, let her go! She's only five! Taking her blood will kill her!" From inside the room came the nurse's hesitant voice. "Mr. Wallace, this child is too young. We can only draw 100 milliliters at most. Any more would be life-threatening." My father said impatiently, "What good is 100 milliliters? Draw at least 200." "But that really doesn't comply with regulations..." My father's voice was cold as ice. "Draw it! If anything happens, I'll take responsibility!" Soon, little Manuela's cries came from the room, each one weaker than the last. My mother's heart was breaking, cold to the bone. "Wallace, if anything happens to Manuela, I will never forgive you in this lifetime!" But before long, Henrichs came out of the delivery room. "Why is she crying so miserably? Didn't Wallace tell you that your daughter's purpose is to be my blood bank?" She looked well, not at all like someone who had just given birth. My mother looked at my father in disbelief. Henrichs said magnanimously, "Let me tell you the truth. The car accident when you were seven months pregnant wasn't an accident. Wallace orchestrated it." "If we hadn't later seen that your daughter's blood type matched mine and could serve as my mobile blood bank, your daughter might not have even been born." "You should thank your daughter for being useful." I knew about this too. My mother said she almost lost me, with no relatives by her side. She stayed in the hospital alone for several days, immersed in dark terror. So it was all orchestrated by my father. He never wanted me to be born at all. Entering the room, my mother held little Manuela, her expression numb. She suddenly said to me, "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have doubted you." My nose suddenly felt sour. "It's okay. Everything can still be fixed." While little Manuela was still receiving IV fluids, Henrichs actually had two bodies—one large, one small—brought from the morgue. I knew she was warning my mother that if she didn't comply, she would end up like these two bodies. My mother, trembling with rage, set fire to the entire ward and fled with us. Meanwhile, Wallace had finally finished processing the paperwork for the new house and was about to have my mother sign when... He saw thick smoke from the hospital's top floor! His assistant suddenly rushed over in a panic. Wallace's heart skipped a beat. "What's wrong?" His assistant looked terrified: "The ward where Miss Montoya was staying is on fire!"
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