Chapter 3

The next morning, a Hale family car was parked outside the Shaw residence.

Ethan walked in carrying a statement.

He didn't ask if my fever had broken. He set the document on the coffee table.

"Sign it."

My mother stood holding a bowl of medicine, the porcelain spoon clinking against the rim, the sound grating.

"Ethan, Nora's fever hit a hundred and three last night. Can this at least wait until she's better?"

Ethan's tone was even.

"Ma'am, this can't be delayed. The Shaw and Hale Group project is still in the approval stage. I don't want the online narrative to keep growing."

I picked up the statement.

Last night's ice-lake proposal was a pre-arranged interactive segment agreed upon by both parties.

I left early due to health reasons.

Mr. Hale was attentive and caring throughout.

Miss Lily Hart was merely an invited guest. Please refrain from malicious speculation.

I couldn't even laugh.

"I have to clear her name too?"

Ethan looked at me: "She's innocent."

"And what about me?"

He paused: "You didn't go into the lake last night."

So I wasn't innocent.

Unless I followed their script and nearly died, I was the one who ruined everything.

A soft knock came from the front door.

Lily walked in carrying a gift box.

She was dressed simply today, her eyes red, as if she hadn't slept all night.

"Nora, I'm here to apologize."

She opened the box. Inside was a silk scarf.

I recognized it—the one she'd used to block the wind last night.

She brought me something she'd already used and expected gratitude.

"I only wore it once. Your skin is so fair—it'll look much better on you than it does on me."

Ethan looked at her, his voice dropping a register: "You're not well. Why did you come all this way?"

Lily shook her head.

"Nora misunderstands me. It weighs on my heart."

My mother's hand rested on the edge of the medicine bowl for a long time without letting go.

Shaw Group's payroll for this month was still sitting on her study desk.

If Hale Group pulled their three billion dollars, hundreds of families would have their livelihoods hanging by a thread.

In my last life, this was exactly the kind of silence that made me bow my head.

Every time the Hale family took a piece of my dignity, I told myself the Shaw family still had to survive.

Ethan pushed the pen toward me.

"Sign it, and I'll have a doctor come look at you."

He always knew how to drive the knife in and then offer a bandage—and expect me to feel grateful for his softness.

I picked up the pen.

My mother grabbed my wrist, eyes reddening.

I patted her hand gently: "It's fine."

I signed my name.

The pen tip touched down like a sentence for my last life's ten years.

Ethan picked up the statement, his expression easing slightly.

"There's a family dinner at the Hale estate tonight. You'll come. Grandmother wants to see you."

I asked: "In what capacity?"

His brow furrowed slightly: "Nora, don't make me spell it out in a way you won't like."

I understood.

Not as his fiancée. Not as the future Mrs. Hale.

Just as the person who would absorb the public backlash for Lily and smooth things over for the Hale family.

I nodded.

"Fine."

Ethan seemed finally satisfied and turned to leave.

Lily lingered a step behind, bending to place the silk scarf on my lap. Her voice dropped low enough that only I could hear.

"Nora, what good does being bitter do you? You can swallow the humiliation—but can the Shaw family survive going bankrupt?"

My fingertips pressed into the scarf. I didn't tear it. Didn't throw it. I just looked at her.

The smile on her face slowly faded.

Because I didn't confront her with red-rimmed eyes the way I had in my last life.

But I knew that in the corner of the living room, a security camera's red light was blinking—and it had recorded every word she just said.

My mother tucked an old kraft-paper envelope into the inside pocket of my coat as she saw me to the door.

Her voice was very quiet.

"Nora, if the Hale family only ignores you, endure it for one night. But if they try to make you kneel—don't leave them any face."

I felt the envelope through the fabric and asked nothing.

In my last life, I never dared tell her that the Hale family had forced me to apologize. I only said the dinner went fine.

So this envelope—I didn't see it until she was on her deathbed.

In this life, it reached my hands early.