While tidying up my son, Eden Gilbert's room, I chanced upon his blood donation record, clearly listing his blood type as Type B. Yet both my husband, Carl Gilbert, and I, Eve Bronte, had Type O blood. How could we have a child with Type B blood? I took the record to Carl. He was usually polite, but this time he flew into a rage on the spot. "Eden is already in college! What else do you want? Are you being paranoid? Have you lost your mind?" I insisted on doing a paternity test. But he slapped me hard twice, stormed out, and locked the door from the outside. Listening to the sound of the lock turning, I suddenly laughed. Eighteen years of marriage, with all my heart and soul given, and it turned out to be all in vain. Calmly, I picked up my phone and called Carl's competing company. "I agree to transfer the patent to you." After hanging up the phone, a sense of desolation filled my heart. Over the years, so many leading companies had tried to woo me with attractive offers. Yet I had turned them all down for Carl and Eden, content to be the unsung person behind Gilbert Group. I had given Gilbert Group a patent worth tens of billions, yet I hadn't received a single cent in dividends. Now, looking back, it seemed incredibly foolish. I sat on the sofa until three a.m. Carl didn't come home until late at night. In the darkness, neither of us spoke. In those eighteen years, we had had good times. During his early entrepreneurial days, I stayed up with him to revise plans, dozing off on his shoulder when tired. He always said to me, "Eve, once the company grows, I'll give you the best." Later, the company did thrive. He became so busy that he was rarely seen at home, always collapsing into bed right after he got home. Whenever I complained about my loneliness, he said, "Don't you have Eden with you?" When I wanted to attend a concert, he said, "Let the secretary accompany you. I really can't spare the time." Gradually, I stopped asking for anything. I thought this was how marriage worked. From passion to calmness, from love to something that felt more like family obligation. Now, thinking back, I suddenly realized this whole family thing seemed to only work for me. To him, our love had long turned into something else. When dawn broke, I went to the kitchen, only to meet Carl, who hadn't cooked for a long time. "Morning." He looked back at me with dark circles under his eyes. "I made breakfast." On the dining table were milk, toasted bread, and slightly burnt fried eggs. He also sat down, and neither of us mentioned what had happened the day before. "Eden is coming back next week." Holding the cup, my hand paused for a moment. "Mm." His voice lowered. "Eve, don't read too much into it, okay? I promise I'll spend more time with you and Eden." I looked up at him. I had seen this face for eighteen years, from youthful to mature. I used to be able to tell whether his smile was genuine or fake, whether he was happy or troubled. Now, I couldn't see through it anymore. Without looking up, I responded softly, "When will we run the paternity test?" The tenderness on his face froze for a moment and slowly faded. "Do you really have to do this?" His knife and fork clattered onto the plate, making a crisp sound. I suddenly remembered when Eden was young, everyone said he looked like Carl, but no one ever said he looked like me. I stood on the balcony, watching his car drive out of the garage before going to the study. A divorce agreement and a property division agreement were on the table. I had a hundred percent interest in the patent that had supported Gilbert Group until now. But after so much time, Carl seemed to have already taken it as his own. My phone rang. It was my mother, Sera Bronte. "Eve, are you feeling better today?" Her voice was cheerful. "By the way, your sister is coming back next week. Carl knew you were not in a good mood, so he bought the ticket for Molly." "He has arranged a director position for her in Gilbert Group. It's been a long time since you two sisters have seen each other. Next week, let's have a family dinner together."
Molly Bronte. The name made my eyelids twitch. She was back, arranged by Carl. I had worked so hard for the company for years without even a title, yet she was given a director position as soon as she returned from abroad. Scattered memories suddenly flooded my mind. When had Carl and Molly become so close? I pursed my lips and kept my voice calm. "What time? I'll cook." "Oh, no, dear. We'll bring the dishes. You just rest well," my mother paused. "Eve, listen to me. Be affectionate towards Carl at night. You know men. They are just too proud." I didn't want to continue the conversation, so I mumbled a few words and hung up the phone. Then I booked an expedited service with a paternity testing center outside the state. After doing that, I went to Eden's room to collect his hair. Once I sent the hair to the testing center, I messaged a private detective to investigate Carl's financial transactions. Twelve hours later, the report from the testing center arrived in my email. I sat in the study for a long time before opening the file. I went straight to the last page. "Eve Bronte is excluded as the biological mother of Eden Gilbert based on DNA analysis." Although I already knew the truth in my heart, my hands still trembled uncontrollably when I saw it in black and white. It had been eighteen years. I felt short of breath, and the world around me seemed to spin. I closed the file, stood up, and walked to the window. Outside the window was Merybridge in autumn, with the sycamore leaves beginning to turn yellow. In the distance, the Ferris wheel in the amusement park slowly rotated. I seemed to see the happy times when we were a family of three. Once, I thought they would be the two people I would protect with my whole life. My phone vibrated. It was the preliminary report from the detective. Several screenshots of bank statements and a few transfer records. A monthly remittance from Carl's personal account to an overseas account, which had continued for at least ten years. And the account holder of that overseas account was Molly. The amount was no small sum, enough for a person to live a very comfortable life abroad. On the last page, the detective added a line. [Ms. Molly Bronte owns a property overseas, purchased nineteen years ago, paid in full.] The year I was found to be pregnant was the same year Molly went abroad. A sudden suspicion flashed through my mind. *** As expected, my parents arrived on the weekend, laden with bags of food. Molly followed behind them, dressed in a beige suit and carrying an exquisite gift box. "Eve," she said with a smile, walking over to hug me. But I slightly sidestepped to avoid her. Her smile froze for a moment, but she quickly regained her composure. "It's been a long time. I've brought you a gift." The dining table was filled with dishes. My mother bustled around, while my father, Oliver Bronte, and Carl chatted about company matters in the living room. Molly naturally took the seat next to Carl. I frowned but said nothing. During the meal, as Molly reached for a dish, a jade bracelet caught my eye on her wrist. I was transfixed. I had seen that bracelet two years ago at an auction. It exhibited exceptional translucency with a vivid, uniform emerald-green hue throughout. I really loved it, but I didn't have the heart to buy it, considering the price. Carl had said at the time, "If you like it, bid for it. Money is not a problem." I replied, "It's too expensive. Forget it." When I asked about it later, he said it had already been sold to someone else. Now, it was on Molly's wrist. "Eve, what are you looking at?" Molly noticed my gaze and smiled, turning her wrist. "Isn't this bracelet beautiful? Carl gave it to me. He said it suits me." Carl, who was sipping soup, choked and looked up at me. "It's a welcome gift for Molly's new job." "Right, right," my mother quickly intervened, smoothing things over. "We're all family. What's the harm in giving a gift? Eve, you're not that stingy, are you?" I didn't speak, just focusing my gaze on Carl. He avoided my gaze. Molly smiled again, her voice gentle. "Eve, don't misunderstand. I just think some things look better when worn by the right person. Like this bracelet, doesn't it look more transparent on my hand than in the auction house?" As she spoke, her eyes were on Carl. I was all too familiar with that look. It was tinged with triumph, with the possessiveness a woman had when looking at her man. After the meal, Molly volunteered to wash the dishes. Carl got up to help, and the two of them went into the kitchen, one after the other. I sat in the living room, listening to the sound of water and whispers coming from the kitchen. I couldn't make out the words, but Molly's occasional laughter was so obvious. My mother sat beside me. "Eve, look how sensible Molly is, even offering to help. She's come back this time to support Carl wholeheartedly. You should stop frowning all the time and talk to her more." My father also spoke up. "It's never easy for Carl to have built the company to this size. You should be glad that he has a family's assistance. As Molly's big sister, you should be more magnanimous." I turned to look at my father. "Dad, Carl is your son-in-law, and Molly is your adopted daughter. Don't you think they're getting a bit too close?" My father's face darkened. "What nonsense are you talking about? Molly grew up under our watchful eyes, just like you. What's wrong with her helping her brother-in-law?" "Just like me?" I repeated softly. "What if I tell you that Eden might not be my biological child?" My parents were stunned. My mother recovered first, grabbing my hand fiercely. "Eve! You can't just say things like that! How could Eden not be your child? Are you just overthinking again?" My father slapped the table. "Enough! You really are insane! Carl was right. You should see a doctor!" Their reactions extinguished the last flicker of hope in my heart. In their eyes, only people like Carl, who could bring them direct benefits, mattered. But they didn't know that Carl had become who he was today only because of me. That evening, after everyone had left, I said to Carl. "Next week, I'm going to stay at the old house for a few days to sort out some old things." He didn't ask further and nodded. "Need a drive?" "Nope."
The old house was where I lived before I got married. Over the years, my parents had moved to a new community, leaving this place vacant. I rummaged through the attic for old belongings. In an old leather trunk, I found things that Molly hadn't taken with her back then. Several diaries, some photos, and a small iron box. I opened the box, revealing a stack of letters. The topmost envelope was already yellowed, addressed to "Dear Carl." The handwriting was elegant, unmistakably Molly's. I pulled out the letter and unfolded it. "Dear Carl, you came to see Eve again today. The way you smiled at her made my heart ache. I know I shouldn't feel this way, but I really fancy you." There was another letter below. "Dear Carl, I heard you're getting married. Eve is so lucky and happy. If only I had met you first, would things be different?" My hands began to tremble as I continued to flip through the letters. The last item was not a letter but a photograph. In the photo, Molly stood shoulder-to-shoulder with Carl under a cherry blossom tree, her head slightly leaning on his shoulder, her hand resting on her stomach. On the back of the photo was a small line of text: [The unloved one is always the outsider.] I held the photo, my fingertips cold. So it had been that early, and I had been a fool, kept in the dark for so many years. Then where had my real child gone? I took out my phone, took a deep breath, and sent a message to the detective. [Help me check the birth records and surveillance from Merybridge Maternity Hospital on June 21st, eighteen years ago, 3:00 PM.] [Also, look into Molly's records abroad eighteen years ago, focusing on whether she has any childbirth records.] At that moment, my phone vibrated. It was a notification from the home smart app. [Abnormal movement detected in the house security camera.] I furrowed my brow. At this hour, Carl should have been at the company, and the maid had taken the day off. I tapped on the app, and the live feed loaded. The living room camera was aimed at the sofa area, where Molly appeared. Carl was lounging on the sofa, his tie loosely hanging around his neck. Molly had changed into a somewhat sheer silk strapless dress that clung softly to her body. She sat on Carl's lap, her fingers slowly unbuttoning the top two buttons of his shirt. Instead of pushing her away, Carl raised his hand, sliding it down her hair and finally resting it on her waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. Carl's breathing had noticeably become heavier. The light fell on them, entwined so closely that they seemed inseparable. I watched the screen, feeling a chill in my stomach and a wave of nausea rising, clogging my throat. "Carl, dear," her voice was so soft it seemed to drip with moisture, "do you realize how much it hurts every time Eden calls me 'Aunt'? He should be calling me..." "Molly!" Carl interrupted her sharply, turning his face away to avoid her touch. But his hand, still gripping her wrist, did not let go. At that moment, it felt as if something inside me shattered completely. The subsequent scenes were too intimate to bear. The recording ended. I closed the app and tossed my phone aside. My stomach churned so violently that I had to rush to the bathroom sink and retched. But nothing came out, only a burning pain that spread from my chest throughout my body. My phone vibrated incessantly on the bed. It took me a while to compose myself before I went back to check. Messages from the detective kept pouring in. [Ms. Bronte, found it.] [Molly Bronte entered Gullspit in July eighteen years ago and gave birth to a full-term baby boy at a private hospital in Witchfen in August. The blood type was recorded as B.] [We've retrieved the records from the Merybridge Maternity Hospital on the day of your childbirth. Between three and five in the afternoon, two baby girls were born. The hospital has since closed down, and the records are lost.] [But when Molly went to Gullspit again in November of that year, she was accompanied by a baby girl about five months old.] [She currently works illegally in a local restaurant. According to the restaurant owner and neighbors, she lives in poverty, is very reclusive, and often has unexplained bruises on her body. Molly collects most of her wages through an intermediary every month.] Photos were attached at the end. One showed a back alley with a thin figure carrying an enormous garbage bag. Another showed a corner of the restaurant, where she was huddled on a stool, eating cold leftovers with a blank expression on her face. The most recent one was a close-up of her arm, covered in bruises. She was so far away, doing the hardest work and getting beaten, while the money she earned was handed over to the woman who had stolen everything from her. An overwhelming wave of hatred engulfed me in an instant. I stood up, and my vision went black for a few seconds. I steadied myself against the wall, digging my fingernails into my palm. The pain brought me back to my senses. I cried for a long time until my tears ran dry, leaving only a burning ache in my chest. I sent all the information, including the surveillance footage, to my lawyer and then called the rival company of Gilbert Group. "I'll sign the patent authorization tomorrow, but I have one condition: Gilbert Group must go bankrupt." There was a low chuckle from the other end, and a cool male voice came through, affirmative in tone. "No problem." After hanging up, I looked at all the evidence on my phone. I thought, "Carl, I can raise you as high as I want, and I can bring you down just as hard!"
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