Chapter 3

"Daddy! Mommy and I finally found you!"

An eight-year-old boy pushed through the crowd and threw himself right into Julian's arms.

Chloe walked in elegantly, wearing a flowing dress that draped over her slightly swollen belly, flanked by two burly bodyguards.

She still had that innocent, helpless look that made men want to protect her.

She looked at me, a brief flash of smugness and contempt crossing her eyes.

Then, turning to the reporters, her knees buckled, and she collapsed to the floor right in front of me.

"Amara, it's all my fault. If I hadn't been young and stupid back then, I wouldn't have caused you to make that mistake during the surgery..."

She wept beautifully, her tears like tiny daggers stabbing right into my chest.

"Julian has waited for you for eight years, and I've lived with guilt for eight years. But I beg you, the children are innocent. Leo needs a father, and the baby in my belly is about to be born..."

The cameras instantly whipped around to capture Chloe's tear-stained face. Gasps filled the room.

"Oh my God, Chloe has carried this guilt for eight years? She's too kind!"

"Amara Sterling, Chloe is pregnant! You're a convicted felon, how can you be shameless enough to try to tear their family apart?"

I stared at the shouting little boy.

I had been in prison for exactly eight years.

Which meant Chloe had given birth to this child the exact year I was locked up.

While I was taking the fall for her, absorbing the curses of the public, they were already celebrating their new baby.

While my right hand was being systematically broken in that dark cell, Julian and Chloe were playing happy family.

Before I could speak, a harsh roar cut through the crowd from the entrance.

"Amara! You shameless bitch! Are you trying to ruin our family the second you get out of prison?"

My biological parents pushed through the crowd, panting heavily.

The moment my mother reached me, she didn't hesitate. She swung her hand and slapped me hard across my right cheek!

Slap.

The sharp crack echoed through the pharmacy. The force of her blow sent me crashing to the floor.

My forehead slammed against the sharp corner of a metal medicine rack. Hot blood immediately trickled down, blurring my vision.

My mother trembled with rage, pointing a finger at my face.

"You curse! You spent eight years in prison and dragged our family's name through the mud! If Chloe hadn't sent us money and medicine every single day, your father would have died of his stroke last month!"

My father, leaning heavily on a cane, limped over. He cast a disgusted look at me, then obsequiously helped Chloe up.

"Sweetheart, please don't get upset. This ungrateful brat is just jealous of you. We don't have a daughter like her! You are our real daughter!"

Lying on the freezing floor, looking through a veil of my own blood, I watched my biological parents fuss over the woman who had ruined my life.

They despised me. They hated me. They wished I had died in prison so they could comfortably enjoy the wealth Julian and Chloe threw at them.

Julian hugged Chloe protectively. Before leaving, he looked down at me with pity.

"Amara, your parents are just emotional right now. I still owe you for what happened back then. Here is ten thousand dollars and my business card. Take it."

He pulled a thick stack of bills from his bespoke suit pocket and threw them in my bloody face like he was tossing scraps to a stray dog.

The green bills fluttered down through the air, hitting my swollen face. It stung.

The happy family of three, flanked by my parents and escorted by the admiring press, marched out of the store.

Tom, the pharmacy owner, walked over with a dark face. He snatched the mop from my hands and spat on the floor.

"Amara, don't bother coming in tomorrow. My shop is a small business. I can't afford to keep an ungrateful felon around! Pack your trash and get out!"