My husband implanted an embryo—his and his first love’s—inside me. I pretended not to know. For twenty-five years, I meticulously raised their son. The day our son secured the company shares and officially became the CEO of the Keane Corporation, my husband wheeled his first love, Serena, onto the stage at the press conference. "Veronica," he announced, "Flynn is my and Serena's child. You've had him for twenty-five years. It's time to give him back to her." I offered a cryptic smile. "Of course. But I'm afraid my son might not agree." 1 "Veronica, how can you do this to Flynn? He's so young, and you're making him do so much homework!" My sister-in-law, Serena, swept a crying Flynn into her arms, cooing and comforting him. "There, there, Flynn, don't cry. Mommy is the worst, isn't she? Making us write so much when we're just little boys." She tossed his pen aside and took his hand, her voice soft and maternal. "How about Auntie Serena takes you outside to dig for crickets?" The mention of digging for crickets in the backyard instantly transformed Flynn's tears into a smile. He threw his arms around Serena's neck, then glanced back at me, a flicker of fear in his eyes. Serena's husband, my husband's younger brother, had died in a car accident. She had lost both her legs saving my husband, losing the ability to ever become a mother. As a result, she poured all her maternal affection onto Flynn. Outsiders praised her for her nobility, for staying a "widow" for a decade, for respecting her in-laws and doting on her nephew. Despite being in a wheelchair, she insisted on taking him to and from school every day, never missing one, even in the heaviest snow. Once, the snow was so deep her wheelchair tipped over, and she cut her forehead. That evening, she was still there at the school gate, a bandage on her brow. She personally cooked his meals, picked out his clothes, and was on call for everything from getting him a glass of water to playing with him. Her rationale was always the same: since she couldn't have children of her own, Flynn was her son, and she would depend on him to care for her in her old age. The truth was, Flynn was her son. Hers and my husband's. I never exposed her. I let her lavish all her motherly love on him. It worked out for me; I was swamped with company matters and couldn't be there for him all the time. A child needs companionship. But I never slacked on his education. I brought him to events, cultivating his perspective and instilling a proper worldview. I was afraid he'd pick up her underhanded, classless ways. Seeing Serena wheel Flynn out of the living room, I strode over and pulled my son back. "Serena, you can't indulge him like this. He'll grow up lazy and spoiled." She shot me an annoyed look. "He's just taking a little break. You're making a mountain out of a molehill, Veronica." She stroked Flynn's face lovingly. "Our Flynn is going to be the CEO of both the Keane and Kent corporations one day. He's not some poor kid from the slums. Even if he doesn't learn a thing, he'll have people waiting on him hand and foot." She turned her wheelchair and reached for Flynn again. I scoffed. Such a small-minded, short-sighted view of the world. I didn't waste my breath arguing. I pulled Flynn back toward his desk. On paper, at least, he was my son, and I would not compromise on his education. The sudden pull sent Serena tumbling from her wheelchair. She let out a pained cry, clutching her head as she hit the floor. When she looked up at me, a flash of pure hatred crossed her eyes. A panicked voice boomed from the doorway. "What happened? Why are you on the floor?" A tall, lean figure strode in and swept Serena into his arms. It was my husband, James. Serena's expression immediately shifted to one of pure anguish, tears streaming down her face. "James, I was just taking Flynn out to play for a bit, to let him relax. He's been doing homework for over an hour." "Veronica said I was spoiling him, and then she just... she just..." She buried her face in my husband's arm and sobbed. James's face darkened. He turned on me, his voice sharp with anger. "Veronica, you're a workaholic, a powerhouse, that's fine. But can you please stop torturing my son?" "He's only eight years old! Stop trying to mold him into some kind of robot with your twisted ideology." 2 I watched James coolly, this man I had chosen for a husband. His ambition and abilities were average, but he was handsome enough, and his family background was a good match. In families like ours, marriage is less about love and more about strategic alliance. I never had deep feelings for James. I certainly couldn't be like the women on the outside, all gentle and considerate, worshipping him with stars in their eyes. Years ago, as the second son, James was at a disadvantage in the Keane family power struggles. He couldn't compete with his older brother, who was already entrenched in the company, nor could he match the cloying obedience of his illegitimate younger half-brother. Pursuing me was his best move. The Kent and Keane families were the titans of their respective regions. As the sole heiress to the Kent fortune, I held absolute power. At the time, our families were negotiating a five-year renewable energy partnership. James showered me with affection, deferring to me in all things. I, on the other hand, was in a pique of defiance after a falling out with someone else, and I impulsively agreed to marry him. My expression was icy as I met his gaze. "Flynn is the heir to both Keane and Kent. Do you really think letting him do whatever he wants is what's best for him?" "If he develops the habits of a spoiled brat, aren't you afraid he'll squander everything our ancestors built?" James hesitated, glancing at his tear-streaked son. Before he could speak, Serena piped up, her voice fragile. "Veronica, you're being too dramatic. Is he going to become a degenerate just by skipping a little homework?" "Flynn is only eight. You can't just see him as a financial asset and rob him of his childhood." She looked up at James, her eyes pleading. "Don't you agree, James?" He looked down at Serena and smiled tenderly. He gently placed her back in her wheelchair, then scooped up our son. "Veronica," he lectured, "you should learn from Serena. Learn how to be a gentle woman, a good mother. Stop being so obsessed with money. You have no warmth." I let out a cold laugh. Looking at the picture-perfect family of three, I couldn't resist twisting the knife. "James, Flynn is my son. I don't think his education is any business of an outsider." I shot a provocative glance at Serena. James's face contorted in anger. He quickly looked at Serena, then back at me. "Veronica, how can you say something so cruel? Serena is my savior. My son is her son." "I'm warning you, as long as I am in this house, Serena is part of this family. If you ever call her an outsider again, don't blame me for what happens." He pushed the wheelchair, and the three of them strode out of the house. A moment later, I heard the sound of happy laughter from the yard. I stood on the second-floor balcony, watching my son perched joyfully on James's shoulders, watching Serena's look of utter contentment, and I sighed. It was my own youthful willfulness that led to this, to someone's child being separated from them. With James's backing, Serena became even more brazen. She started making household decisions without even consulting me. Watching them on the security cameras, flirting and exchanging loaded glances, I could only feel a sense of pity. She had ruined her own life for James. I wondered if one day, she would regret it. When it came to our son's upbringing, they could handle his daily life, his playtime. But on the important matters, the matters of character and future, I never relaxed my grip. Every evening, unless it was an absolutely essential business dinner, I delegated to my VP and stayed home to read with my son, to tell him stories. Every school break, I took him to visit the world's top universities, to let him witness the wonders of academia. I spent a fortune to have him mentored by an Ivy League professor in business administration. Though my son disliked my strictness, as he grew older and his horizons broadened, he began to enjoy discussing life with me, sharing his own fantastic ideas. Whenever we were away for a couple of weeks, Serena would bombard him with calls, nagging him to wear more clothes or not to eat strange food. Seeing the slight frown on my son's face, I once asked him with a faint smile, "Flynn, do you think I've been too strict with you? Not as gentle and caring as your aunt?" 3 Flynn thought for a moment. "Mom," he said, "don't you think a sapling has to be kept straight from the beginning to grow tall and strong?" "I'm a man. I need to absorb as much knowledge as possible so I can contribute to society, like the great people who came before me. That's a life of value." I patted his shoulder. As expected of a top expert's son. Genetics truly are a marvel. Under our combined, albeit conflicting, styles of parenting, Flynn grew into a cheerful, outgoing, and diligent young man. He was a standout among his peers. At eighteen, he was accepted into MIT. His grandfather, the patriarch of the Keane family, had high hopes for him and gifted him twenty percent of the company's shares. To put that in perspective, my brother-in-law's own children had received nothing, and he himself only held twenty percent. Over the past eighteen years, with the financial backing of my company, the Kent Corporation, James had solidified his position in the Keane family business, surpassing his older brother. The old man rubber-stamped every one of James's decisions, knowing that I was behind him. Even if James made a mistake, I would cover it with my own money. The top executives at Kent had long since tacitly pledged their allegiance to James, leaving his brother a figurehead with no real power. Three years later, Flynn returned from his studies abroad. That day, I showed him a four-hour video, a compilation of all the sordid, dramatic secrets of our wealthy family. Flynn was silent for a long time. Finally, he said, "Mom, what do you want to do?" I asked him calmly, "You've been with them for twenty years. If we make a move, can you bear to do it?" He considered it. "Mom, I know what to do. If he has a conscience, I'll know how to proceed." I patted his shoulder, a gratified smile on my face. My son was a man now. In some ways, his ideas and abilities had already surpassed my own. I trusted he wouldn't disappoint me. Following my plan, Flynn quickly started an internship at the Keane Corporation. With the support of his father and grandfather, he managed to make the company's stock price jump three times in just two years. The old man was clearly thinking of bypassing his own son and handing the company directly to his grandson. A few days before Flynn's twenty-fifth birthday, we held a family meeting. I announced my intention to transfer all my shares to Flynn, making him the CEO of the Kent Corporation while I retired to the background. I was a woman who had fought in the corporate world for over two decades. I was tired. A flicker of delight crossed James's face. I subtly glanced at Serena, sitting in the corner. A raised eyebrow, a mouth struggling to suppress a grin, eyes blazing with ecstatic joy. Old Mr. Keane tapped his cane, deep in thought. If Flynn took over Kent, he couldn't generate profits for Keane. The two companies weren't one entity. He didn't want his grandson's talents benefiting another family. With a little prompting from me, he finally understood. The Kent and Keane corporations would merge into one, with Keane as the dominant name. The new entity would be called the Flynn Group, with our son as its CEO. The Flynn Group would become the undisputed titan of the city. The old man was ecstatic. The Keane name would remain, and his own grandson would be at the helm. The Kent name would be erased. The Keane dynasty would be unshakable. It was, in essence, a complete absorption of my company. James's older brother protested, but I quickly bought out his shares at a premium. I didn't want any loose ends. Under pressure from his father, he knew he couldn't win and stormed off with his money. As for James's younger half-brother, Serena, acting as his representative, naturally gave her full support. She even made a noble speech: "My dear Nathan is gone, and I have no children of my own. I've always thought of Flynn as my son. I'll depend on him in my old age. All of Nathan's assets will go to him." 4 The plan was set. On Flynn's twenty-fifth birthday, we would hold a press conference to announce the merger and his appointment as the new CEO. The day was a media circus. The city's elite, business magnates, and socialites were all there. The air buzzed with envy and congratulations. The Flynn Group was the new pinnacle, the partner everyone wanted. With lawyers as witnesses and the unanimous support of the board, my son walked onto the stage. He signed the share transfer agreement and delivered his inaugural speech. The applause was deafening. The crowd was electric. Just as his speech ended, James wheeled a lavishly dressed Serena onto the stage. With James's help, she stood up shakily and threw her arms around Flynn. "My son," she cried, her voice thick with emotion. "You're finally a man. I no longer have to be forced to be separated from my own flesh and blood." She pulled out a twenty-year-old paternity test report and, in front of all the cameras, shoved it at me. "Veronica Kent, you were jealous of James's love for me. You couldn't stand to see me happy, so you orchestrated a car accident that killed my husband, Nathan, and crippled me. Then, you stole my son." I watched her cold-eyed as she spouted her lies. I knew she had no shame, but I never imagined she could be this audacious, twisting facts so brazenly in broad daylight. I was surprised lightning didn't strike her dead on the spot. The crowd stared, stunned, their eyes darting between me, James, and Flynn. A murmur rippled through the room. "What's going on?" "Flynn isn't Veronica's son?" "She forced her sister-in-law to give up her child?" "But if he's not her son, doesn't that mean all her years of raising him were for nothing?" "Wait, she just gave him the entire Kent Corporation. If he's not her son, she's lost everything!" James spoke, his voice filled with regret. "Veronica, I know you were devastated when you delivered a stillborn baby. That's why you clung to the belief that Flynn was yours. For all these years, for the sake of your mental health, Serena has endured the pain of being separated from her child. Now that Flynn is grown, it's time he knew who his real mother is." I stared at him, at his self-righteous performance. It's true what they say: birds of a feather flock together. He could spin such lies without batting an eye. My gaze swept to old Mr. Keane. He coughed and turned away, avoiding my eyes. In that instant, I understood. They all knew. James's great deception had been a family affair. That explained why Serena had remained "unmarried" in the Keane household for so many years without anyone objecting. They had all been stringing me along, making me raise a child and build an empire for them. What a masterful, ruthless plan. If I hadn't been so vigilant all those years ago, I really would have ended up with nothing, thrown out on the street for them to torment. Under the shocked gazes of the crowd, I smiled faintly at my son. "Flynn, what do you think? Do you want to acknowledge your birth mother and cast me out? Or will you remember the years I raised you and continue to treat me as your mother?"
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