2. The Echoes Of The Past

As Ann reached the entrance of the airport, an eerie wave of déjà vu swept over her like a crashing tide. She stood still, her gaze locked on the familiar structure. It hit her like a brick—this was the very place she had last stood years ago, lost, dejected, and without a single soul to rely on.

Back then, she’d been nothing.

Now she was everything.

Pride welled up inside her, mingled with grief and old pain. She had returned—not just fulfilled and happy, but powerful, wealthy, a mother with children by her side. That, above all else, meant the world to her.

Her eyes drifted to the airport’s large glass windows. For a fleeting second, she swore she saw the ghost of her former self reflected back—young, broken, drowning in betrayal. The same woman who once passed through these very doors with nothing but rage and a promise of revenge burning in her chest.

That vow—made in anguish—was one of the very reasons she’d returned. Not just out of homesickness or to show her children their heritage. No, she had come to settle a score.

The memory was sharp. She could still feel the confusion and heartbreak that gnawed at her that day. The humiliation. The tears. The betrayal.

Lost in thought, her hands curled unconsciously into tight fists. Then, a pair of soft, warm hands slipped into hers.

“Mummy? Are you okay?” Rosy’s gentle voice tugged her back. “You’ve been staring into space for, like, ten minutes.”

Ann blinked and looked down. Her daughter was frowning in concern, her tiny fingers trying to uncurl her mother’s clenched fists.

Bryan stepped closer, brows drawn together in concern. “Mummy,” he said in a serious, almost bossy tone, “tell me who upset you. I’ll deal with them. You always get that look in your eyes, and when we ask, you say it’s nothing. But I know someone really hurt you.”

The boy’s conviction, paired with his childish pout, made Ann laugh despite herself.

“Come here,” she said softly. “Come give Mummy a hug. I need one suddenly… I miss your hugs.”

Rosy stepped forward eagerly, wrapping her arms around her mother. Bryan stood his ground, arms folded—until Ann pulled him into the embrace with a playful tug.

“You always say hugs ruin your ‘manly image,’ don’t you?” she teased.

After the warm group hug, they proceeded to the waiting cars. Ann entered her private vehicle with the twins, while the assistants and bodyguards followed in their own assigned vehicles.

Inside the car, Ann leaned against the window as the city blurred past. But all she saw were memories—memories that haunted her even now. The past unfolded in her mind like an old, painful film. Her chest tightened, each breath feeling heavier than the last.

She could barely breathe.

Growing up in an orphanage was a story of both survival and silent suffering. She had been left as an infant—barely seven months old—at the front gate of the SOS Orphanage on the outskirts of the city. No note. No name. No trace of identity.

The sisters at the orphanage told her the story so many times she knew it word for word, like a memory inherited. Sister Martha had named her Annie McBrown because they didn’t know what else to call her.

Now known as Ann Yin, she sat silently as her mind drifted deeper—back to a moment that had shaped her more than most. A memory that marked the beginning of her undoing… and her becoming.

She had just arrived at school, pushing through a crowd of rowdy students, her bag slung over one shoulder. Her steps were heavy, her body aching under the weight of invisible burdens.

She reached her locker and was about to slip her books inside when she was shoved hard against the metal. Her back slammed into it with force, and the mocking laughter and high-fives echoed around her.

Typical.

She didn’t even flinch anymore. She knew who it was without looking. That laugh—that voice. Avirina and her minions.

But before she could stumble, two small hands caught her from falling. She turned, confused. Who?

She barely had any friends. None who cared enough to intervene—except Judith.

“Ann?!” Judith’s voice was sharp with frustration. “I don’t understand why you still let that self-proclaimed queen bee and her little crew torment you! You’ve never wronged her, but she bullies you every day!”

Ann smiled softly, letting Judith steady her. “Don’t let them get to you,” she said gently. “In all my eighteen years—at least, those I can remember—I’ve gone through worse. This? This is just child’s play.”

Judith scowled. “You always say that! You’ve been through so much, but you never tell me what it was! We’ve been best friends since fourth grade, Ann. And you let those Barbie-wannabes torment you for what, exactly?”

Ann’s smile faltered. There were things she could never share. The orphanage. The loneliness. The endless hunger—not just for food, but for love, for belonging. And for now, silence was safer.

“Let’s go to class,” she said. “We need to focus. Their futures are already planned out by rich families. Yours… well, your family’s worth might not compare. And I have no one. We have to earn our place in the world.”

Judith rolled her eyes but didn’t argue. She knew Ann was right.

When they reached the lecture hall, the professor was already at the front. The room was almost full, and whispers followed them as they walked in. Ann didn’t react. She was used to the looks, the murmurs.

Dragging Judith with her, she settled into a back seat and pulled out her notebook and pen—no fancy gadgets, just the basics.

Midway through the lecture, the door opened again. This time, with quiet importance.

The principal, Mrs. Kalu, walked in briskly. “Attention, students. Sorry to interrupt, but we have a new enrollee.”

Ann barely looked up—until she noticed the principal’s giddy smile. Strange. Why was she so excited?

“Rex Radford,” Mrs. Kalu announced. “He’s just been enrolled by his father, Mr. Alfred Radford.”

The class erupted. Girls adjusted their hair, fixed their clothes. Squeals of joy filled the room. Even Judith was fluffing her hair and straightening her blouse.

Ann blinked in disbelief.

“Judith,” she whispered, “you too? Who is this guy, and why are you all reacting like this?”

Judith gasped. “Ann! Seriously? You don’t know Rex Radford?! You have to be kidding. Your TV is older than I am, but come on!”

Ann raised a brow. “And…?”

Before Judith could reply, the principal raised her voice again. “Quiet, please! Let’s welcome him warmly.”

The door opened. And there he was.

He entered like he owned the world—but without arrogance. Just… presence.

Gasps filled the room.

His beauty was arresting—almost otherworldly. He was tall and lean, but strong. His face was a masterpiece of angles and symmetry, yet softened by the faint dimples that appeared when he gave a polite nod.

His eyes were a stormy shade between black and gray—piercing and unreadable.

There was no denying it: this boy was built to draw attention. He didn’t ask for it. It simply followed.

He smiled, modest and reserved, and that was the final blow. The girls fell harder. The boys looked ready to explode.

Ann stared, unimpressed. Still, a strange feeling crept into her chest. A shift. A quiet warning from somewhere deep within.

She didn’t know it yet, but this was the boy who would remake her world… and eventually destroy it.