Chapter 3

"This poor boy lost both his parents. Arthur and I are the only family he has left in the world! Elena, you lost your parents too—can't you show a shred of empathy?"

"How can your heart be made of stone?"

The more she spoke, the more self-righteous she became.

"For the past eight years, Arthur and I have given you the motherly and fatherly love you lost! Why can't you share just a tiny fraction of that love with this child?!"

"Enough!"

I roared, my vision swimming with black spots.

They had brought up my parents again.

All to manipulate and guilt-trip me into submission.

"When my parents gave their lives to save strangers, did they ever imagine that their daughter's in-laws would use their deaths as a knife to stab her in the heart?!"

Martha's lips trembled, and she clamped her mouth shut.

Brenda and Linda seemed to realize the air had turned deadly toxic, and they both shuffled backward awkwardly.

"Elena, wait, that's not what I meant..." Martha stammered, trying to backtrack.

"Shut your mouth!"

I raised my arm and pointed straight at the exit, my entire body shaking with fury.

"Get out! Take your precious grandson and get the hell out of my home right now!"

The little boy started wailing at the top of his lungs again.

Martha’s face drained of color before twisting into ugly, spiteful rage.

"Elena! Who do you think you're talking to?! We are your elders! This apartment belongs to my son—"

"Your son is dead!"

I cut her off ruthlessly, shattering the illusion.

"He's been dead for eight years! Just because I let you crash here for so long, did your rotten brains actually forget whose name is on the deed? This house has nothing to do with your family! Not a single damn cent!"

"You... you ungrateful bitch!"

Arthur clutched his chest, shaking with rage. Martha rushed to hold him up.

Brenda opened her mouth to lecture me again, but I grabbed a broom leaning against the wall and swung it violently in their direction.

"Get away from my door! All of you, get out!"

Brenda and Linda scrambled backward down the hall, muttering under their breath:

"Look at her... She must have a sugar daddy or a secret lover on the side. Why else would she kick her dead husband's elderly parents out over a kid?"

"It's all an excuse. Disgusting woman."

To deal with pathetic busybodies like that, you don't even waste a single glance on them.

Seeing that the two old leeches still refused to pack, I stormed back into the living room and began grabbing their coats and bags off the rack, hurling them outside.

"If you won't pack, I'll do it for you!"

"Outrageous! She's lost her mind!" Arthur gasped, clutching his chest and wheezing violently.

Martha screamed and charged at me, trying to physically pin my arms down.

When she saw that I wouldn't budge an inch, her beady eyes darted around, and she suddenly threw herself onto the floor, wailing like a dying banshee.

"There is no justice in this world! A daughter-in-law is murdering her dead husband's parents! Elena is throwing us onto the freezing street and trying to kill a little boy! If anything happens to this child, it's her fault! She murdered him!"

As she howled at the ceiling, she reached behind her back and viciously pinched the little boy's thigh.

Leo let out a bloodcurdling scream, crying even harder.

His tiny face instantly turned a terrifying shade of blue-purple, and his breathing became shallow and ragged.

His little body suddenly curled into a tight ball, gasping desperately for air.

Martha noticed something was genuinely wrong this time. She dropped the act, panicked, and grabbed the boy in her arms.

"Look what you've done to him! You scared him to death! If he dies, his blood is on your hands!"

"You're paying us hundreds of thousands of dollars in damages, or you're never walking away from this!"

I watched their circus act with icy detachment. There was no way in hell I was taking the blame for this.

Ignoring her screeching, I pulled out my phone and dialed 911 for an ambulance.

At the hospital, the emergency room physician walked out, his expression grim.

"The patient is experiencing an acute flare-up of congenital heart disease, accompanied by severe respiratory failure."

"He's in critical condition and needs emergency surgery immediately, or he won't make it. Were you not aware of his pre-existing heart condition?"

I whipped my head around to look at the old couple.

Martha’s face went paper-white, and her eyes darted guiltily away from mine.

I grabbed my purse, turning on my heel to leave.

Arthur instantly blocked my path like a brick wall.

"You haven't paid for the surgery! Don't you dare run away! I know you have millions in the bank—you owe this to the family!"

I laughed in his face, disgusted beyond belief.

"Most of the settlement money my parents earned with their lives went to Lucas back then! And after he vanished, I supported you two freeloaders for eight years!”

“ I paid for the roof over your heads and every single meal you shoved down your throats! What do I owe you? Get out of my way!"

Arthur didn't move an inch, his jaw set in a stubborn sneer.

"If you hadn't thrown a tantrum and made him cry like that, his heart would never have given out! You think you can just wash your hands of this and walk away? Not a chance in hell!"

Without another word, I pulled out my phone and dialed my corporate attorney. My voice was calm, steady, and utterly devoid of emotion.

"Attorney Miller, I need you at the central hospital immediately. My late husband's parents are attempting extortion and illegal property occupation."

"I need you to draft the paperwork right now. I am terminating every single legal and financial tie with these two parasites."

Just as I ended the call, movement in the corner of my eye caught my attention.

A figure paced nervously outside the ICU doors, bundled in a heavy trench coat with a baseball cap pulled low over his eyes.

Our gazes collided for a fraction of a second.

In that single instant, I recognized him.

Without a moment of hesitation, I lunged forward, kicked open the corridor door, and confronted him face-to-face.

"Long time no see, Lucas. You played dead for eight whole years—did you finally crawl out of your grave?"