[3] Facing An Enemy From The Past

Clara’s heart shattered the moment she saw them.

For a brief moment, she remained frozen at the top of the staircase, her fingers gripping the railing as a crushing wave of emotion surged violently through her chest.

The three children looked painfully small standing in the center of the vast living room, their figures dwarfed by the towering ceilings and elegant furniture that filled the Lockwood mansion.

Lucas stood in front of his sisters like a silent shield. Even at fourteen, the boy already carried himself with the rigid composure of someone far older than his years.

His shoulders were squared, his posture stiff, and his hands clenched tightly at his sides as though he were forcing himself not to react to the harsh scolding being hurled at them.

His dark hair fell slightly messy across his forehead, and the sharp line of his jaw resembled Jade’s so strongly that it made Clara’s chest ache.

But what hurt the most was the expression in his eyes. There was no childish panic there, no tears, no desperate pleas, only cold restraint, the kind that came from learning too early that showing weakness only made things worse.

Beside him stood Emily, gripping the hem of her dress tightly with trembling fingers, her knuckles pale as she stood close to her brother.

Her shoulders hunched slightly, as if she were trying to shrink into herself and disappear.

Her wide eyes flickered nervously between Mr. Grayson and the floor, shimmering faintly with unshed tears.

Emily had always been the softest among them, the gentlest.

Even in Clara’s previous life she remembered how easily the girl cried whenever someone raised their voice.

And hiding almost entirely behind Emily’s arm was little Sophie, the smallest member of the Lockwood family, only five years old.

Sophie clung desperately to the back of her sister’s dress, her tiny fingers twisted tightly in the fabric as though it were the only thing anchoring her to safety.

Her cheeks were flushed bright red from crying, her face streaked with tears while her small shoulders trembled violently with each sob.

Lucas and Emily endured the scolding in silence as if they had already accepted it, but Sophie could not stop crying.

Each broken sob pierced straight through Clara’s chest like a blade.

Clara’s fingers tightened around the railing, her nails digging into the wood as anger began to burn slowly in her chest.

But what ignited that anger into something fiercer was what she noticed next.

Several maids stood nearby, gathered loosely against the wall. None of them stepped forward to comfort the children. None tried to intervene.

Instead, they whispered quietly among themselves while watching the scene unfold, some even covering their mouths as they giggled softly.

Their eyes sparkled with thinly concealed amusement, as though the frightened children standing in the center of the room were nothing more than a source of entertainment.

Something inside Clara snapped.

Before she fully realized what she was doing, she was already moving.

Her feet carried her quickly down the staircase, as her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

The sound of her approaching footsteps immediately drew everyone’s attention.

Heads turned and the maids straightened hurriedly.

Mr. Grayson paused mid-scolding. But Clara didn’t slow down. Her voice rang out across the hall before she even reached the bottom of the stairs.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?!”

The sharp fury in her voice cracked through the room like a whip, making everyone freeze.

Mr. Grayson turned abruptly, surprise knitting his brows together. The maids gasped softly. And the children looked up in shock. For a moment the living room fell completely silent, then the servants’ expressions brightened in subtle anticipation.

Mrs. Lockwood had arrived. Perfect timing!

Several maids quickly adjusted their uniforms and stood straighter, attempting to appear attentive. After all, everyone in the mansion knew something very important: Clara Whitmore despised Jade Lockwood’s children.

She had never bothered to hide it. From the very first day she married into the family, Clara had made it painfully clear that the three children were burdens in her eyes.

She scolded them harshly for the smallest mistakes, punished them without hesitation, and ignored them when they cried.

Sometimes she didn’t even pretend to care. Naturally, the servants assumed Clara had come downstairs to support Mr. Grayson. Surely she would praise him for disciplining the troublesome children.

The maids even exchanged satisfied glances with one another. Finally, the mistress would deal with these little brats properly.

But Clara didn’t even glance at them.

Her attention was fixed entirely on the three trembling children standing in the center of the room.

She walked straight toward them, each step slow and deliberate.

The moment she approached, Lucas stiffened instantly. Emily grabbed Sophie’s hand without thinking. All three children shrank backward slightly, as if an invisible wall of fear had suddenly risen between them and Clara.

The fear in their eyes appeared immediately, raw, instinctive, and unmistakable. Clara stopped mid-step.

The reaction struck her harder than any slap ever could.

That fear wasn’t subtle. It wasn’t hidden. It was carved deeply into their bones through repeated experience.

Of course, they were afraid. In her previous life, whenever she approached them, it had never meant anything good.

There had never been warmth or comfort from her, only coldness and anger.

Clara clenched her fists tightly at her sides as regret flooded through her chest like poison.

'Damn it. Why was she reborn after she had already married into this family? Why not earlier? Why not before she had ruined everything?

If she had returned even the wedding, perhaps Lucas wouldn’t look at her like she was a monster. Perhaps Emily wouldn’t flinch whenever voices rose. Perhaps Sophie wouldn’t cry the moment she saw her.

But the past couldn’t be undone. Only the future could change.

Clara inhaled slowly, forcing herself to calm the storm raging inside her chest. Then she turned her cold gaze toward the butler.

But before she could speak, a familiar voice suddenly rang out from the entrance.

“Clara!”

Her spine stiffened instantly. She didn’t need to turn around. She recognized that voice far too well. She would remember it even in her dreams.

Vanessa Carter hurried across the hall, her long hair swaying as she rushed into the room with a distressed expression.

Her eyes darted to the frightened children and then to Clara, her concern seemingly deepening.

“Oh no…” she murmured before stepping forward, directly between Clara and the children as if shielding them. “Please don’t punish them!” she pleaded, her voice trembling. “They’re still young! Children make mistakes!”

She gently grabbed Clara’s arm as though trying to calm her. “Please… don’t be angry with them. You can direct your request to me instead. Just... leave the kids for now, alright?”

The performance was flawless. Every movement and word painted her as a compassionate woman protecting innocent children from a cruel stepmother. Clara wanted to applaud her.

And just like always, it worked. The children immediately ran toward her. “Aunt Vanessa!”

Emily clung to her sleeve while Lucas moved closer protectively beside his sisters. Even little Sophie buried her tear-streaked face against Vanessa’s waist while sobbing softly.

Vanessa wrapped her arms around them gently. “It’s alright,” she murmured. “Don’t be afraid. I'm here now."

Clara stood there in silence, watching with disdain.

Then suddenly memories crashed violently through her mind, the cold marble floor, the knife, Vanessa standing above her with that satisfied smile.

“You should’ve listened, Clara…”

Her best friend. The woman she trusted more than anyone. The one who had whispered advice into her ear… encouraged her anger… fueled her hatred toward Adrian’s children. This bitch standing in front of her... was that person.

And in the end... Stabbed her to death.

Clara’s eyes slowly darkened. Ah! Now she understood.

Vanessa had always been like this. Every time Clara lost her temper with Jade or the children, Vanessa had been there beforehand whispering poisonous words into her ear.

Every time Clara humiliated them, Vanessa encouraged it. And afterward, Vanessa would appear like a saint, comforting the children, protecting them, earning their trust and everyone else’s admiration.

Back then Clara had been too blind to notice. But now... Now she saw everything clearly.

Clara stepped forward slowly, her gaze locking onto Vanessa. Her voice was cold as she said..

“Move!”

Vanessa blinked in confusion. “What?”

Clara’s eyes hardened. “I didn’t know that you were deaf! I said move away from my kids.”

The living room fell silent. Even the maids stopped whispering, stunned.

Vanessa frowned slightly. “Clara… what... what are you talking about?”

But Clara simply stared at her and muttered before she could stop herself. “In the past,” she said quietly, “you killed them.”

Vanessa’s entire body froze and her eyes widened in confusion.

“And this time…” Clara’s eyes flashed with icy fury. “I’ll make you pay.”

Vanessa stared at her in disbelief. She was confused. What the hell had gotten into her? “Clara, what are you...”

SMACK!

The sound exploded across the living room as Clara’s palm struck her cheek, snapping Vanessa’s head violently to the side.

Before anyone could react...

SMACK!

Another slap landed, harder than the first.

Vanessa staggered, almost tumoring down. But Clara didn’t stop.

SMACK!

The third blow finally sent her stumbling backward.

SMACK!

The fourth knocked her completely off balance. Vanessa collapsed onto the floor and the entire room fell into stunned silencece.

The maids gasped. Mr. Grayson stood frozen, and the children stared in utter disbelief.

Vanessa clutched her burning cheeks with trembling hands, horror filling her wide eyes.

No one could understand what had just happened.

After all... Vanessa Carter was Clara’s closest friend. So why had Clara just beaten her like that? Were they missing something?

Clara stood there calmly, her chest rising and falling as she looked down at the woman on the floor with icy indifference, just as the latter had done before plunging the knife into her.

And for the first time since her rebirth...

Everyone in the Lockwood mansion realized something about Mrs. Lockwood had completely changed.

They don't know this new Mrs. Lockwood.