"For someone who could have a mistress’s daughter the same age as his own, surely he wouldn’t be so petty as to stop the real daughter from going out for a meal with her friend, right?"
Every word stabbed at the stepmother’s sore spots. She understood my jab at her as the mistress-turned-wife. Her face turned pale, then green, then pale again, before she forced out a strained smile.
"Of course not. If Emily wants to go out, she can—just don’t stay out too late."
I took Emily to a restaurant.
Watching her eat so ravenously only deepened my heartache.
When she finally slowed down, I asked softly, “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling?”
Her hands froze, eyes reddening. “Claire, I don’t have any family left.”
Tears streamed down her face as she recounted her past two years.
When she first returned home, her mother had been cremated hastily, and Emily herself had to pay for the burial plot.
Before the seven-day mourning period had even passed, her father had moved the mistress and Olivia into the house.
"I thought Jason Shaw would support me. But no—he slept with Olivia instead, and in the very new home my mom had bought for me!"
Her grief and fury were palpable.
"Did you get the house back?" I asked.
She shook her head. “My father wanted to transfer it to Olivia. Luckily, my mother left a will. I made sure to notarize it as soon as I returned, so they couldn’t take it.”
Emily was clever—I had always known that.
All these years, while I lived comfortably abroad, it was only thanks to her wisdom and resilience.
She always said, “What’s happened has already happened. Leave the sadness for later. The most important thing is to protect yourself in the moment.”
My heart broke that she had lost her mother so young, and worse, that she had to fight alone to protect what rightfully belonged to her.
"They want you to marry someone?" I asked again.
She nodded, though there was a hint of relief in her eyes.
"Yes—"
But before she could finish, angry voices erupted outside the private dining room. Olivia was trying to force her way in, but the bodyguard held her back, and she screamed incessantly.
I turned to Emily. “Does she bully you often?”
Emily gave a bitter smile. “Dad dotes on her. He thinks she’s had a hard life outside the family all these years, so he wants to give her everything. He even tried to hand over the dowry my mom prepared for me so she could marry my fiancé instead.”
Her fiancé was Jason Shaw. His reputation was awful—a notorious playboy. He already had over twenty official girlfriends, and countless unofficial flings.
Not even thirty yet, his health was already failing like an old man’s.
And yet women still lined up to marry him, simply because the Shaw family had such influence in the corporate world. Olivia was one of them.
The Carter family wanted to climb higher through this marriage but didn’t want Emily to gain status over them, so they let Olivia snatch the engagement instead.
"A fiancé who can be stolen isn’t worth suffering for. As for the dowry…"
My eyes narrowed. “If you trust me, make a list of everything your mother prepared for you.”
"Of course I trust you, Claire. But my family situation is too messy. Now that Jason is backing Olivia, I don’t want you dragged into this.”
Even while trapped in her own nightmare, Emily worried about me.
I smiled at her, trying to ease her fears.
"Don’t worry. I’m back now—and I won’t let anyone bully you again."
