Chapter 3

Three days later, it was the family's rehearsal dinner before the official wedding.

When I walked into the banquet hall of the private manor, the sight before me still managed to sting.

The name cards at the center of the long table had been swapped.

Beside the Don's seat, where the bride was supposed to sit, sat a beautifully dressed Celine.

She was laughing and chatting effortlessly with Sean's capos.

Meanwhile, my seat had been relegated to the very end of the table, shoved in a corner near the kitchen doors.

I could hear the oblivious wives of the lieutenants whispering:

"Why is Chloe sitting all the way down there if she's the bride?"

"Anyone who didn't know better would think the woman sitting next to the Don is the leading lady."

Sean heard the whispers.

He shot me a glance, a flicker of guilt crossing his eyes, but he still defended Celine.

"Celine has a weak constitution; sitting by the draft will make her sick. Chloe is easygoing. She doesn't mind these formalities."

She doesn't mind.

Was it really that I didn't mind, or did they just strip me of the right to mind?

Because of that endless "lifesaver" title, I had endured my husband rushing out in the dead of night, endured my son treating another woman like his mother, and endured the reality that the three of them looked more like a family than I ever did with them.

Yet all my endurance had simply earned me the label of being "sensible."

And it had become their excuse to push the knife in even deeper.

Right before the main course was served, a waiter wheeled a cart forward, preparing to carve steaks for the guests.

Sitting on the cart was a boiling pot of thick soup.

Celine suddenly stood up, holding a glass of wine, and sauntered over to me.

"Chloe, a toast to you."

A smile was plastered on her face, but she spoke in a voice only the two of us could hear.

"I know you hate me. But Sean feels he owes me his life."

"As long as I'm around, you'll always be second place."

As she spoke, she used the motion of toasting to lean closer to the cart.

In the next second, Celine suddenly shrieked and threw herself toward the serving cart.

Her outstretched hand expertly hooked the handle of the boiling soup pot, violently tipping it right in my direction.

"Watch out!"

In the split second the boiling soup flew through the air, Sean dashed over from the other end of the hall.

His eyes locked onto me first, instinctively reaching out in my direction to pull me to safety.

But right then, Celine let out a far more blood-curdling scream:

"Sean, save me!"

Sean's movements jolted to a halt. His body instinctively pivoted toward the louder sound, and he yanked Celine into his arms.

Meanwhile, to dodge the scalding soup, I fell hard to the floor, caught completely off guard.

My elbow smashed brutally into the shattered porcelain scattered across the ground.

The jagged shards pierced my sleeve, burying themselves deep into my arm.

Crimson blood rapidly stained the pale carpet.

"Sean, I was so scared..."

Celine trembled pitifully in his embrace.

Sean patted her back soothingly before his head snapped back to look at me.

When he saw the glaring pool of blood on the carpet, all color drained from his face. A flicker of panic and heartache flashed in his eyes.

He subconsciously released Celine, stepping toward me.

"Chloe, your arm..."

But Celine gripped the hem of his jacket at that exact moment. Tears welled in her eyes, her tone dripping with grievance:

"Chloe, I know you've never liked me, but I was just trying to be nice and toast you. Why did you purposely push the cart? You almost burned yourself..."

Hearing that, Sean's footsteps halted abruptly.

He looked at the shattered cart nearby, the heartache in his eyes instantly replaced by fury.

"Chloe! What the hell are you doing?!"

"Celine came over to toast you out of the goodness of her heart. Even if you hate her, did you have to push her?"

"Harming yourself just to frame her—what if that soup had splashed onto Celine's face? Could you bear the consequences?!"

The surrounding guests cast shocked, judging glances my way.

Leo even burst into tears out of fear, pointing at me and screaming:

"Bad Mommy! Mommy pushed Aunt Celine! Mommy is a bad person!"

I sat in a pool of my own freezing blood. The agony in my arm was so intense I nearly passed out.

But I didn't make a single sound.

Supporting myself with my uninjured left hand, I staggered to my feet.

"Sean."

"On the coastal highway back then, Celine sped and swerved exactly like this, almost killing me."

Sean's face contorted in anger:

"What nonsense are you spewing now?!"

I took a step back, letting the blood drip freely onto the carpet.

"Five years ago, I nearly died in that car because of her."

"Five years later, because of her little act, I'm treated like a murderer in front of everyone."

"Your so-called 'lifesaving debt'—I've paid it off today with this arm."

With that, I ignored Sean's stunned expression, turned around, and walked out of the banquet hall step by step.

"To the hospital," I told the driver after hailing a cab.

In the emergency room, the doctor used forceps to pull out the porcelain shards and stitched me up with seven sutures.

At 2:00 AM, my phone screen kept buzzing.

Sean had sent over a dozen text messages in a row.

[Chloe, where did you run off to? Is your arm badly hurt? Did you get stitches?]

[I know you felt wronged today, but you really shouldn't have pushed that cart. It was too dangerous.]

[Celine is in shock and on an IV drip right now. Get over here and apologize. Stop throwing a tantrum.]

[Don't forget to show up on time for the wedding at 9 AM tomorrow. It's the wedding you've always wanted, remember?]

I didn't reply.

A new notification popped up.

It was a photo Celine posted in the family group chat.

In the picture, Leo was asleep leaning against Celine's hospital bed, her hand resting gently on his head. Beside them, the edge of Sean's suit jacket was faintly visible.

Celine's caption read:

[We've been through so many hardships, but thankfully, we are all safe in the end.]

I stared at that photo, and the churning, suffocating pain in my chest miraculously vanished.

I walked out of the hospital and headed straight to the temporary residence arranged by the Boston foundation.

Sitting on the table was a no-fault divorce agreement already drafted by a top-tier lawyer.

In the asset division section, I crossed out all demands regarding the Lockwood Mafia family's trust.

I only asked for what was rightfully mine.

As for Leo's custody, I wrote on the document:

[Given the deep attachment the minor, Leo, has formed with Ms. Celine, I voluntarily relinquish custody and transfer full guardianship to his biological father, Sean.]

As I wrote those words, my fingers trembled slightly.

That was the child I had nearly died to bring into this world.

But when he pointed at me without a second of hesitation and called me a "bad mommy," I understood that he was no longer my child.

At 4:00 AM, a light rain was falling outside the main wedding cathedral.

Holding an umbrella and wearing a black trench coat, I walked into the hall.

The wedding director jumped when he saw my heavily bandaged arm:

"Donna? Your arm..."

I placed the signed cancellation authorization on the table:

"Notify all the guests. Today's wedding is completely canceled. I have already paid the penalty fees in full."

I looked at the massive welcome sign in front of the altar. It even had Celine's name printed on it.

I turned around, pulled the wedding ring off my finger, and tossed it into a nearby fountain.

At 5:30 AM, I boarded a flight to Boston.

I snapped my old SIM card in half and threw it into the trash.

This five-year nightmare was finally over.