The Secrecy of Mr. Walton

Light pierced through the darkness, and I found myself standing in front of a door, my hand on the doorknob.

Inside, I heard laughter.

"Our son is so smart, knowing not to disturb us. I'd say he got the best of both of us."

Then came a string of sounds I couldn't bear to hear.

I clutched the doorknob tightly, the pain in my heart suffocating. The memory of slamming onto the concrete below rushed back—a crushing, unbearable agony, like being run over by a truck.

In my last life, I had trusted my family without a second thought.

I never imagined my husband, Sam Hodgson, and my sister, Irene Baxter, had been hooking up all along.

Nor did I expect my mother's bias to reach such an extreme. She stood by as Irene pushed me off the building.

Perhaps the god pitied me, unwilling to let me be deceived any longer. He had granted me a second chance.

I slowly released the doorknob and retreated to the stairwell. Taking out my phone, I began recording.

Soon, my front door opened. Irene wrapped her arms around Sam's neck, exchanging a series of deep kisses before letting him leave.

Before she returned inside, Sam gave her a squeeze on the backside, eliciting a giggle.

I covered my mouth tightly, forcing myself to remain silent. I could hardly believe these adulterous pair dared to indulge in it in broad daylight.

The baby's wails broke the air. Irene rushed inside, expertly scooping the child into her arms to soothe him.

I had died once already—killed by their scheming hands.

In my previous life, I thought Irene's doting care for my son during my postpartum recovery period was due to her inability to have children. I had believed she loved her nephew out of genuine affection.

How naive I had been. Their hearts were filthy. They had never regarded me as a human being.

Looking at Irene's youthful, beautiful face, I felt a pang of bitterness.

She looked nothing like our mother but bore an uncanny resemblance to our father.

Later, I learned Sam had signed a gambling agreement with investors. He borrowed funds from a local loan shark to launch his company, betting everything on going public.

They would make sure he lost everything if he didn't pay the loan shark back.

When I caught them red-handed, it was during a critical moment in their plans.

Realizing they couldn't afford to let me expose them, they pushed me off the balcony without hesitation.

I screamed and struggled, crying for help. But my mother, cradling my child in the other room, never came to check.

This time, I wouldn't let them push me around.