Chapter 2

I had already witnessed this scene in my previous life.

Eight years ago, Jerome's elder brother was severely injured in a mining explosion. Before dying, he entrusted his wife and two children to Jerome.

From that day onward, our two families became one.

At first, Miranda and her children lived with us in the countryside. Jerome always divided his income and gifts into two portions for the family back home. Life was tight, but we got along reasonably well.

Three years ago, Jerome was promoted and given a dormitory. He discussed with me that it was not proper for a widow like Miranda to stay in the village—it would invite gossip.

She did not have good social ties like I did, so he planned to take her with him. He said that he would bring me and our kids over after she and the children got settled in.

Naively, I agreed.

What I did not expect was that, along with Miranda, our living expenses also left.

Every month, he sent me letters saying he missed me, loved me, and missed the children, but not a single cent came with those letters.

I brought that up in a reply, but he ignored it completely—no response at all.

He just kept warning that inspections were strict lately, that he was newly appointed and under a lot of scrutiny, so we must not come looking for him.

In my past life, I thought he must be facing some hardship. I did not want to embarrass him, so after mentioning it twice, I never brought it up again.

I was blinded by his sweet words, believing that loving someone meant never causing them trouble and that I should not let trivial domestic issues waste his time.

Even in raising the children, I made everything revolve around their father.

When famine struck, I would rather sell my blood than pawn the keepsake he gave me as a token of our love.

Because of my stubbornness, my children froze and starved to death. When Jerome finally returned, the first thing he said was that he wanted a divorce.

He said Miranda had been through a lot with him, and he wanted to give her a home.

After our divorce, Miranda came to pick him up with the kids. Jerome held Alex in one arm and wrapped the other around Miranda's waist.

A family of four, full of warmth.

That was when I finally understood—when he said he had never betrayed me, he meant only physically.

All his friends recognized Miranda as Mrs. Shaw.

His salary went to her, she managed his life, and even his underwear was hand-washed by her.

After learning that, I was devastated and threw myself into the icy river.

As I was about to say something, Miranda's gentle voice came from behind, saying, "You two lovebirds should stop being so sweet. Come eat."

The food was simple cafeteria fare—plain bread and two dishes.

Yet, even that made my children's eyes glow with hunger. They devoured it like they were starving.

I had just calmed them down, telling them to eat slower, when I heard a sneer.

Miranda's eldest daughter, Caroline Shaw, muttered in Drakovian, "Eating like pigs. So disgusting."

I looked at her.

She thought I did not understand her and gave an even bigger smile as she said, "So filthy, so smelly, so gross."

I asked coldly, "Who are you calling that?"

Though I was from the countryside, I went to school as a child. A teacher taught me Drakovian back then.

Caroline had not expected me to understand—her face turned ghostly pale.

Even though the others did not understand what she said, they could tell it was not nice.

Miranda got angry. "Caroline! Enough with your broken Drakovian. Apologize to your aunt and take your food back to your room!"

Caroline grumbled a half-hearted apology and did not even bother taking the food—she was clearly sick of it and did not care for it anymore.

Miranda quickly apologized to me, saying Caroline had been learning Drakovian from tapes and was all over the place.

My daughter then asked innocently, "Mom, what's a tape?"

The table went quiet. Even Jerome, who had remained silent the whole time, looked deeply uncomfortable.

After dinner, Miranda took my children to bathe.

Jerome hesitated for a long time before finally speaking, "Nathalie, when are you going back?"

I looked at him. "I'm not going back."

"What?"

The basin in Miranda's hands fell to the floor with a loud crash. She quickly picked it up and hurried away.

Jerome looked worried as he watched her leave, then turned back to me.

"You're not going back? Nathalie, don't be so unreasonable. We agreed—"

I cut him off. "Jerome, there was a major flood in our hometown this year. All the food is gone. We even burned the door for firewood."

I got straight to the point. "I can't afford to feed these two kids anymore. If you want us to go back, are you planning to let us starve to our deaths?"

Jerome frowned. "Can't afford it? I've sent you so much money every month. How can you say you can't afford it?"