Chapter 4

"The thought of my boy calling another woman 'Mom' tears me apart. How long will this go on?" My spouse's tone was filled with irritation, his jaw clenching as he grappled with the situation.

My husband's mother interjected proudly, "Those with more years have greater wisdom. If not for my scheme to exchange the infants, we wouldn't have gained any edge over Sophia."

My partner nodded in agreement, his gaze narrowing. "That cunning woman, Sophia, has been wary of me all this time. She refuses to let me meddle in company matters." He balled his hands into fists. "But fear not. She's already consented to give her child 20% of the company's shares when he comes of age."

He leaned in, a sinister glint in his eye. "Once that agreement is signed, we'll unveil the truth to her. She'll be caught off guard and utterly bewildered."

The trio chuckled together, their faces contorted with a sense of triumph. The atmosphere in the room grew chilly with their shared malevolence.

I remained silent, concealed behind the partition, observing them, my muteness conveying more than any words could. Rather than confront them, I chose to disregard their machinations.

While their intentions were wicked, there was no denying their commitment to raising their son. They invested all their efforts into ensuring he had the finest opportunities, molding him into a driven, robust, and competent young man.

The lad excelled in both studies and sports, impressing all around him. He secured a spot in one of the city's premier high schools, and soon enough, he turned 18.

My spouse and his mother immediately began arranging his coming-of-age celebration. They reserved a hotel, sorted out the details, and ensured everything would be flawless. My husband, in particular, had been approaching me with ideas for a gift for our son.

I understood his thoughts precisely, so I handed him the draft of the share transfer agreement. His expression softened as he perused it, a look of ease spreading across his face. He gave me an approving nod and redoubled his efforts.

The day before my son's coming-of-age ceremony, I casually mentioned to Olivia that I hadn't seen her daughter in a while and asked if she could bring her along to enliven the occasion.

For a moment, a smug grin flashed across Olivia's face, though she swiftly concealed it. With feigned reluctance, she said, "Madam, this is such a momentous day for the young sir. How could you allow that... girl to make a spectacle of herself?"

I smiled sweetly and replied, "How can you, as a mother, speak about your daughter in such a manner? No one will mock her, I'm certain."

She smiled back, her tone dripping with insincerity. "Madam is so kind. I'll return to the countryside and fetch her."

Despite her words of gratitude, I could detect the glee in her eyes—she was clearly plotting something far more nefarious.

The following day, the grand coming-of-age ceremony for my son took place at one of the city's most opulent hotels. The banquet hall was brimming with influential guests, local elites, and familiar faces.

Then, Olivia arrived with my daughter in tow. The moment they entered, all eyes turned to her. My daughter, in stark contrast to the lavish setting, was clothed in coarse, unrefined linen garments, with dirt deliberately smeared on them—Olivia's little touch of cruelty.

As my daughter hobbled across the floor, the scars on her face remained shocking, a constant reminder of the torment she had endured. But it wasn't just her appearance that drew gasps—it was the visible sign of her pregnancy.

Olivia had openly claimed that, once my son came of age, he would wed the village girl. It seemed she had kept her word.

Watching my daughter, meek and vulnerable, I couldn't help but shake my head, my heart heavy with a sense of helplessness.

The ceremony proceeded without interruption, and soon it was time for me to present my son with his gift. Surrounded by family and friends, with my husband, mother-in-law, and Olivia watching, I stood on stage and signed the share transfer agreement, officially passing on 20% of the company's shares to my son. The crowd erupted in applause, praising him for his fortune and calling him lucky to have such a mother.

Just as the applause began to subside, a loud, jarring ringtone cut through the air, disrupting the moment. It was Olivia's phone, turned up to maximum volume for all to hear. She answered it, her voice raised in exaggerated surprise. "What? Really?"

With excitement and joy, Olivia hurried to the stage, nearly stumbling over her own feet in her haste. As she reached me, she thrust her cell phone in the air, her voice loud and eager.

"Wrong, wrong, ma'am, everything is completely wrong!" she exclaimed. "I am Jacob's biological mother!"

At that moment, I couldn't help but sneer internally. I had waited eighteen years for this very day.