The first year of our marriage, my husband went overseas to work on an offshore rig and died. They never even found his body. For eight years, I gritted my teeth and carried on. I cared for his aging parents, never once complaining. Until the day they walked in with a seven-year-old boy. “Leo died so young, and you’re almost thirty,” my mother-in-law said. “We brought a child back so you’ll have someone to look after you in your old age.” The boy, coached to perfection, ran over and hugged my waist, rubbing his face against my side. “Mommy, I’ll be really good!” I shoved him away so hard he stumbled. I snatched the bag of clothes from his hands and threw it out the front door. His belongings scattered across the porch. “If you insist on keeping him,” I said, my voice shaking with rage, “then as of today, I’m done caring for you.” They both froze, stunned by my reaction. My mother-in-law’s face fell. “We did this for you, out of the goodness of our hearts! How could you say something so cruel?” I didn’t back down. My voice grew sharper. “If you insist on raising this child, you can leave my house right now!” 1 The words had barely left my mouth when tears welled up in the boy’s eyes. “Mommy,” he sobbed, “I can do laundry and cook, and I can sweep the floor. Please don’t make me leave, please…” He bit his lip, his voice small and childish, his tear-filled eyes pleading. He looked utterly pathetic. He was playing the part of a good, pitiful boy perfectly, enough to break anyone’s heart. Anyone but mine. My mother-in-law bent down, gathering the clothes I’d thrown. She took the boy’s hand and glared at me. “Amelia, I know you had a miscarriage. I know you have issues with children!” “But Connor is different! He’s obedient and smart. Having him around might even heal you!” Her voice took on a sharp, accusatory edge. “Or is this because you’re planning to remarry? You want a child of your own then, is that it? I suppose with all those successful men at your company, you couldn’t possibly stay lonely forever!” I let out a cold laugh, clinging to my last shred of composure. “You’re overthinking things, Mom. If you and Dad like him so much, you can take him back to your hometown and raise him yourselves. We can all go our separate ways.” She pointed a trembling finger at me. “Amelia Liu, how dare you speak to me like that! Have you forgotten what you promised us?” I hadn’t forgotten. How could I? Eight years ago, Leo Crawford was working overseas when a sudden storm capsized his rig, taking his life. When I got the news, I was happily planning our honeymoon. The grief hit me like a physical blow. I was three months pregnant, and the shock caused me to miscarry on the spot. My baby was gone. He was gone. When I woke up from the haze of grief, I was given the letter he wrote before every trip out to sea, a pre-written will. Every word was a plea—a plea for me to take care of his parents. I agreed without a second thought. To give my husband’s soul some peace, I even signed a legally binding contract, promising to support them. My mother-in-law clutched her chest, her face a mask of disappointment. “You promised Leo you’d support us until we died! You signed a contract, in black and white! And now you’re throwing us out? What is the meaning of this?” “And look at this sweet boy, crying his heart out! How can you be so heartless?” This boy was sweet, alright. Too bad he was the son of Leo and his mistress. Three months ago, a large sum of money from the account I maintained for my in-laws was transferred to an unfamiliar overseas account. I asked a colleague to look into it, and what he found unraveled everything: My dead husband was very much alive. And he had a son with his mistress. This boy, Connor, was that son. My in-laws had brought him here with one goal: to get me to pay for the boy’s medical treatments. To use me as a walking wallet. Well, since they’d delivered themselves to my doorstep, I would personally draw the real culprit out. And then I would drag him to the police station. I blocked the doorway, unmoving. “Of course, I remember the contract.” “But if the child doesn’t leave, you do. This is not up for discussion.” My father-in-law, who had been silent until now, grabbed the boy’s hand and tried to push past me. “Connor is staying here today! We’ve already made arrangements.” I laughed coldly, grabbing Connor’s other arm and pulling him back. The boy shrieked in pain. “I paid for this house, every last cent! If I say no strangers are allowed inside, then they are not allowed!” My mother-in-law flew at me, trying to pry my fingers loose. “Why are you being so stubborn? We’ll use our own pensions to raise him! We won’t take your money!” “And what’s wrong with living in your house? What’s yours is ours!” The sheer entitlement in her voice was staggering. After eight years of supporting them, I had no idea my assets had become theirs. A muscle twitched in my jaw, but I didn’t let go. I took a deep breath, fighting down my rage. “How much is your pension? The two of you spend thousands of my money every month. Do you really think your pittance of a pension will cover it? In the end, I’d be the one footing the bill anyway!” Her face flushed crimson. Before I could say more, my father-in-law’s hand shot out. The sharp crack of a slap echoed in the hallway, my head snapping to the side. “Your parents died young! I never wanted Leo to marry you in the first place!” he roared. “You’re bad luck! You jinxed your parents, and now you’ve jinxed my son to death! So what if we spend your money? Why have you become so vicious?!” The boy’s cries escalated into terrified screams. I held my cheek, my mind a complete blank as I saw our neighbors gathering in the hallway, drawn by the commotion. 2 I stood frozen for a few seconds before my head snapped up, my eyes locking onto his. My voice was ice, laced with a tremor I couldn’t control. “You’ve been waiting to say that for a long time, haven’t you?” I jinxed my parents? And Leo? My parents died in a fire, sacrificing their own lives to save others. My parents were heroes. I clenched my fists, a wave of nausea washing over me. Sensing things were getting out of hand, my mother-in-law quickly stepped in front of her husband, her tone softening. “Amelia, your father was just angry. He didn’t mean it. Don’t take it to heart.” “Your parents saved so many people. Everyone is grateful for what they did.” She reached out to pat my shoulder. I bit my lip and recoiled from her touch, shaking with a rage so intense I couldn’t speak. Our neighbor, Mrs. Wagner, peeked her head in. “Goodness, what’s all the commotion? Are you all okay?” My mother-in-law latched onto her like a lifeline, forcing a strained smile. “Oh, it’s nothing serious. We just… we brought a child home, thinking he could be a companion for Amelia in her old age, and she’s not happy about it. Just a little spat with her father…” “Mrs. Wagner, maybe you can talk some sense into her!” she pleaded. “This child is from a distant relative. His parents died, and no one else in the family wanted him. He has nowhere to go…” Understanding dawned on Mrs. Wagner’s face, and she turned to me. “Amelia, honey, your in-laws are just trying to do what’s best for you.” “You’re almost thirty. It’s not right for you to be alone. A child brings life to a house! And you’ll have someone to rely on when you’re older.” Before she had even finished, Mrs. Miller chimed in. “You hear those horrible stories on the news all the time, about single women dying alone in their homes and not being found for weeks… It’s tragic! If you had a child, that would never happen.” She looked at me with pity. “That’s right,” another neighbor added. “It’s been eight years since Leo died, and you’ve never remarried. Everyone knows how devoted you are.” “This child clearly adores you. If you don’t keep him, who will take care of you when you’re old?” I almost laughed. So, if you don’t have children, you’re doomed in your old age? If I die and no one finds my body, it’s not like I’ll know. Why worry about it? Besides, as a general manager at my firm, I earned a six-figure salary. Did they really think I couldn’t afford to check myself into a top-tier retirement community? A cold smirk touched my lips. My patience was gone. “How I live out my golden years is my business, thank you. I’ll arrange for a very nice facility for myself, and I assure you, it will be far more peaceful than this.” My mother-in-law shrieked back, “Haven’t you seen the news? Those places are filled with abusive staff! Without children to stand up for you, you’ll be abused to death! A child you raise yourself is the only one you can trust!” She gave the boy a shove. He immediately dropped to his knees on the hard floor. I frowned. The next second, he began knocking his head against the ground. “Mommy, don’t send me away! Mommy, please don’t send me away!” After just a few thuds, a large, angry welt was already forming on his forehead. My mother-in-law rushed to pull him up, her voice dripping with fake sympathy as she presented him to me like a prized possession. “Oh, my poor darling! My sweet boy! Where else will you find a child so devoted and obedient?”
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