Chapter 2

Knowing Titus' attitude, I no longer threw tantrums as I did in my previous life. Instead, I obediently accepted his arrangement because I knew that it would not make any difference, no matter how much I argued.

Titus would just suppress everything.

My silence seemed to please Titus. He softened his tone and cooed to me in a low voice, "Once we move to Napple, I'll buy you whatever you like, even if it means moving an entire luxury boutique into our home. All that matters is that you want it."

Melissa's eyes sparkled as she clung to Titus' arm and wheedled. "Titus, can I have a designer bag too? You know my childhood dream was to have my own bag..."

Titus seemed to recall their childhood memories, and his gaze became even gentler. "I'll always keep one of whatever I have for you. That's the promise I made to you once."

Melissa gave me a challenging look and tugged at Titus, recounting their childhood stories. They had known each other for a longer time than I had. In the past, I often quarreled with Titus over such matters, but not anymore.

Just as I placed my packed backpack on the bed, Titus suddenly called out to me, "Noelle, could you sleep on the couch in the living room for now? Let Melissa have the bedroom. She's just been through a lot. Her emotions are unstable, and she needs a quiet environment to recover... Please bear with it. It'll only be for the next couple of days."

I froze, looking up at him in disbelief.

We were living in the most cramped rental house in the slums. We have only one room with an open space connecting to the bathroom and a small stove. The worn-out single couch was so small you could not even stretch your legs out, yet Titus wanted me to sleep there for two nights.

"Why can't she go back to her own home?"

Even though I had decided to stop fighting for anything, Titus' arrangement was still hard to accept.

His voice turned cold, tinged with barely perceptible irritation. "The car sent by the family broke down on the road, and it'll take 48 hours to get a replacement. If it weren't for this accident, we'd already be sleeping comfortably in the manor. Melissa has already packed up and given up her rented place. Now, she's homeless."

Melissa's eyes welled up with tears as she pretended to be strong. "It's all my fault. Let me sleep on the couch. We can't let Noelle suffer."

She struggled to walk out but deliberately bumped into the doorframe, gasped, and fell backward.

Titus caught her just in time, his eyes filled with deep disappointment as he looked at me. "That's enough, Noelle. Melissa is in poor health, and she's so sensitive right now. Don't trigger her!"

I was about to say something when my son, Christian Holt, ran in excitedly. Seeing Melissa's tear-streaked face, he hesitantly stopped. "Dad, why is Ms. Gunther crying?"

He tilted his head, looking at them curiously and then at me.

Titus said gently to his son, "Ms. Gunther is homeless. How about we let her stay for the night?"

A glimmer of hope rose in my heart.

My son usually loved sleeping with me; he needed bedtime stories to fall asleep. He would definitely object to Titus' arrangement.

Christian's eyes lit up at his father's suggestion, and he clapped his hands excitedly. "Great! I'm sleeping with Ms. Gunther tonight! Ms. Gunther always smells nice, unlike Mom, who always smells like bleach."

My heart shattered at my son's words.

Christian was mischievous and often got covered in dirt from playing outside. I always spent a lot of time washing his clothes, even if my hands were swollen and unsightly from being soaked in bleach.

In the resource-scarce slums, I always tried my best to keep my son clean and presentable. It turned out that my son was still disdainful of me even without the false accusation of theft. In that case, I should let them go.