I didn't respond, and with nothing else to say, they asked a few more questions about the baby before leaving in a hurry.
But I knew they weren't going to let it go that easily.
Sure enough, by the next day, rumors were swirling through the apartment complex. Every time I walked by, people whispered and pointed.
“When someone dies, you let them rest in peace. Giles used to treat her so well, picking her up from work every single day. Now that he's gone, she can't even be bothered to look after his parents.”
“You should see those two old folks gnawing on stale bread, saving every penny so she and the baby can eat better.”
I knew exactly what this was. Evan and Tracey were trying to pressure me into giving in. I made a mental note of every single person spreading gossip about me.
That night, I called Tracey, sobbing like I couldn't take it anymore.
“Mrs. Simmons, I know things are hard for you. I still have some money saved up. Let me send it over so you can get by.”
A quiet laugh slipped out on the other end of the line before she caught herself.
“Oh, we couldn't possibly accept that.”
They put up a token resistance for a few exchanges, then took the money. They even remembered to remind me, voices dripping with concern, to rest well for the baby's sake.
Once they'd tasted that first win, the second and third came easy.
What started as subtle sob stories turned into outright demands for cash.
Every single time, I transferred the money like a woman resigned to her fate. And every single time, I saved the receipts, screenshots, and recordings.
Giles was going to pay for what he'd done, and these two accomplices weren't going to slip away either.
I spent a comfortable ten months at home.
When the timing was right, I dropped the final piece of bait on social media.
It was a photo I'd gotten from my cousin, one of her son. I blurred it just enough, and added a caption：
【Bringing you into this world was the hardest thing Mommy's ever done.】
Within a minute of posting, messages from Evan and Tracey came flooding in one after another.
“Scarlett, you had the baby? Why didn't you tell us? We would've come to help!”
“Is it a boy or a girl?”
I glanced at the messages and typed back：
“A boy.”
“Mr. and Mrs. Simmons, I've been thinking about this for a while. Things are tough for you financially, so it's probably best if I raise the child on my own. Please don't contact me anymore.”
Then I set my phone to silent, tossed it aside, and let the messages pile up.
“Scarlett, we're the baby's grandparents! How can we just not be involved?”
“A young woman raising a baby alone? That's no way to live. Family should stick together and support each other.”
And Giles, who had been silent for months, finally couldn't sit still any longer.
“Babe, thank you so much for having our baby. I'm back. Where are you? Let me come see you both.”
Every word oozed gratitude for my sacrifice and guilt over not being by my side, as if that combination would soften me up enough to fall back in line.
All I sent back was：
“Who is this? My fiancé died a long time ago.”
Giles scrambled to explain：
“Babe, I was in a car accident and a good Samaritan saved me, but I was in a coma and lost my memory. That's why I never came home to find you.”
He sent me a photo.
In it, his jaw was covered in stubble, the skin under his eyes bruised a deep purple. He looked haggard.
“Babe, life without you has been miserable. But it's okay now. Our little family of three is about to be together again.”
One look and I knew the plan had worked.
The only difference from my past life was the angle of his approach, and this time, I was supposed to play the fool who bankrolled everything.
I kept playing dumb.
“One AI-generated photo and you think I'll fall for it? Yeah, right.”
Then I deleted him off WhatsApp.
Giles sent friend request after friend request, apologizing and begging, but I ignored every single one.
In the end, he dropped the act entirely and resorted to threats.
“Scarlett, don't push your luck. You're an unmarried mother. Who else would want you besides me?”
“I'm telling you, marry me and we can still be a family. Otherwise, I'll take you to court and make sure you never see that kid again.”
I let out a cold laugh：
“Then take me to court.”
It wasn't long before the court summons arrived at my door.
The speed of it would have been unbelievable if he hadn't been planning this all along.
On the day of the hearing, Giles and his parents sat in the plaintiff's section, looking like they'd already won.
The moment Mr. and Mrs. Simmons noticed I hadn't brought a child, their eyes turned murderous. They launched into their sob story for the judge：
“Your Honor, during her entire pregnancy, my husband and I took care of her hand and foot. We gave her the best of everything while we barely ate or slept ourselves. We lost ten pounds from the stress alone.”
“And after all that, she's so heartless she won't even let us see the baby. Not once.”
Giles produced my old psychiatric evaluation, putting on a mask of concern.
“She has depression, which is a mental illness. Leaving a child with her is dangerous. There's no telling what might happen.”
“We may not be legally married, but as the child's father, I have a responsibility. I'm requesting full custody.”
The judge turned to me.
“Does the defendant have anything to say?”
I looked at the three smug faces across from me and laughed out loud：
“Every one of the plaintiff's claims is baseless. There is no child.”
