Chapter 2

The car drove through an enormous gated luxury community before finally stopping in front of a villa.

The moment the car door opened, a woman in a flowing white dress hurried over. She had on a pitiful expression, and her eyes were red. She looked fragile and harmless. This had to be the "kind and gentle Barbara Bush" Francis had mentioned.

Barbara crouched down and pulled me into a tight embrace. Her voice trembled with emotion, while her tears fell on cue. "Ethan, my poor child. You're finally home. From now on, I'll be your mom. I'll spend the rest of my life loving you…"

The heartfelt display moved Francis deeply. Standing nearby, he repeatedly exclaimed that he had married such a good woman.

I stood stiffly and let Barbara hold me.

I remembered the advice Carol had given me before leaving the orphanage. "Ethan, hug people more. Talk more. Tell them what you're thinking. That's how people grow to like you."

Fine. Hug we should, then. Slowly, I lifted my arms and wrapped them around Barbara's neck.

But just as Francis headed to the trunk to grab his suitcase and wasn't watching, Barbara's hand on my back suddenly moved toward the soft flesh beneath my arm. Her fingers clamped down on my skin, then twisted hard.

Pain shot through my arm, but I gritted my teeth and didn't make a sound.

Barbara leaned in close to my ear and whispered through clenched teeth, "You little bastard! You picked a great time to come back and fight for the inheritance, huh? If you don't do exactly as I say, I'll make sure you regret ever setting foot in this house!"

The vicious malice in her tone was a stark contrast from her sweet, innocent face.

She wanted to challenge me, huh? A faint smile tugged at the corner of my mouth. My eyes turned cold.

A blade I used for sharpening pencils slipped out from my right sleeve. With a nimble flick of my wrist, the blade disappeared into my palm.

With a swish, the blade sliced cleanly across Barbara's waist, cutting through her white dress all the way down to her upper thigh.

If she hadn't felt the sudden chill against her stomach and instinctively recoiled, I could've sliced open her stomach right then and there.

"Ah!" Barbara shrieked and collapsed to the ground, clutching her ripped dress. Her face was deathly pale as she stared at me.

Hearing the commotion, Francis spun around. "What happened? Barb, are you okay?"

Just as Barbara opened her mouth to answer, I lifted up my sleeve to reveal the ugly purple bruise with nail marks on my arm where she'd just pinched me.

I didn't cry. I simply looked at Barbara with an icy, guarded glare and asked Francis in a hoarse voice, "Dad, is this what you meant when you said nobody would hurt me anymore? Why did Barbara pinch me? I don't want to be sent back to the orphanage again."

My fists were clenched tightly. My small body was tense with vigilance.

Francis' gaze landed on the bruise. His expression changed instantly. He turned sharply toward Barbara, suspicion flashing across his face.

Barbara panicked. Forcing down the fear and resentment in her eyes, she immediately put on a wounded smile. "Francis, you've got it all wrong! That must be an old bruise Ethan got from another kid at the orphanage.

"He was trying to hug me just now and accidentally tore my dress with a toy. The poor child just got here and feels insecure. He's just looking for attention and reassurance…"

Francis looked at me and sighed heavily. The suspicion faded from his face, replaced by deep sympathy. "Come on, Ethan. Let's put some ointment on that."

He scooped me into his arms and carried me toward the house. Without even glancing back, he said to Barbara, "Go change your clothes. We'll bring Ethan to meet Emily in a bit."

Resting against Francis' broad shoulder, I withdrew my cold stare. I looked over his shoulder to see Barbara climbing to her feet and flashed her the friendliest smile imaginable.

Round one: She lost.