Chapter 3

I shoved Christina violently. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Christina fell to the floor. The bowl in her hands smashed against the floor with a sharp crash.

I grabbed Logan immediately and froze in horror. His small face was flushed and swollen, his breathing already labored.

The broken bowl still held half a serving of egg custard.

Logan was allergic to eggs!

I didn't have time to think. I lunged for the medicine cabinet. But Logan's usual medicines, even his cardiac injections, had all been replaced with Allen's fish oil capsules.

Rage shook me. I didn't have a second to spare for Christina, who sat pitifully on the floor. Clutching my son, I bolted for the door.

But I hadn't even taken a step before crashing into a solid chest.

"What's all this commotion so early in the morning?"

Bryson's face was dark with displeasure.

Before I could reply, Christina began wailing.

"Bryson, it's Allen's first birthday today! I just wanted Logan to share some of the good luck, so I fed him a little egg custard… Then Selene said I was dirty, threw the bowl, and hit me, telling me to leave!"

I swayed on my feet, furious, mouth opening to defend myself.

The next instant, a heavy slap landed squarely across my face.

Pain exploded on my right cheek. My ears rang.

Through gritted teeth, Bryson's voice cut like ice, "Selene, how could you be so cruel?!"

I cradled Logan protectively as we fell to the floor.

My hand pressed against the shattered porcelain, sending searing pain up my arm.

Bryson hurried to lift Christina. "Your wrists are all red. I'll take you to the hospital!"

He carried her off, turning to leave.

Logan's face was red and tight with struggle. I grabbed Bryson's leg. "Take me and Logan to the hospital first! We need medicine, otherwise Logan will die!"

My bloody palms stained his trousers, yet he didn't even glance down.

With a dismissive kick, he shoved me aside.

"Just give Logan some anti-allergy medicine. This afternoon, I'll accompany Christina and her child for a family portrait. You should reflect on yourself!"

With that, he left in haste with Christina.

Logan's breathing grew more labored. I had no choice. I forced myself upright, clutching him, and ran toward the hospital.

When we arrived, the doctor unleashed a torrent of scolding, "You parents are unbelievably careless! A little longer and who knows if the child would have survived!"

I kept thanking him, my face still swollen and throbbing.

Seeing my pitiful state, the doctor sighed and said no more.

I wiped my tears and stayed by Logan's side through the IV.

At this point, I could no longer rely on Bryson.

Tickets to Odell City, plus food and lodging, would cost roughly 1,000 dollars. Fortunately, I'd long supplemented our household income by selling handmade crafts. The savings plus current sales were just enough.

Looking at Logan, already covered in tiny needle marks despite it being barely morning, I made a firm decision. In this second life, I would do whatever it took to save my son!

That afternoon, after finishing the IV, I carried Logan to the mall.

Just as I placed a pair of knitted gloves on the counter, the reflection in the glass caught my eye—Christina.

Her slight scratches had been carefully disinfected with iodine. She wore a high-quality wool coat, standing at the entrance of the photo studio. Neither Bryson nor the child was with her.

Her eyes darkened as she spotted the items on my counter.

She lunged forward, snatching the gloves. "Selene! How dare you steal things from home to sell! And make this much money!"

I froze. "What are you talking about?"

Christina smiled triumphantly and pulled a plastic bag from her handbag. "This is the evidence!"