Chapter 255
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Finished
She stared out into the heavy night, and suddenly a memory surfaced–Scarlett’s eighteenth birthday. The girl had secretly tried to cook something in the kitchen for her, only to be caught and startled into dropping the bowl.
Back then, she had pointed at the shards and cursed her as a harbinger of misfortune. Even when she noticed Scarlett’s scalded hands, blistered from boiling water, she hadn’t softened.
The light in Scarlett’s eyes had dimmed as she scolded her.
And all she had felt then was satisfaction.
Never once had she cared for Scarlett’s feelings.
But now… now she realized it.
At that time, Scarlett had truly cared for her.
If she had treated her differently, Scarlett would already have–been welcomed as a guest of honor in the Lane family.
Her own son wouldn’t have been reduced to servitude.
She wouldn’t be living under someone else’s roof, scraping by.
And seeing Rebecca’s twisted face now only made her more bitter.
Yes, she had lost her child once because of an accident.
That wasn’t her choice either.
She had wanted to keep her safe.
So why was she the one being blamed?
And after learning Rebecca’s true identity, hadn’t she poured enough maternal love on her?
For years, she had dirtied her hands with shameful deeds, all for Rebecca’s sake.
But now, Rebecca didn’t just lack gratitude–she was hurling accusations!
A thankless wretch.
Not even as grateful as Scarlett had been.
“It was my mistake…”
Her nails dug deep into her palm.
Scarlett–just one child. Even if she had raised her wholeheartedly, it wouldn’t have cost much.
So why had she treated her differently?
Why had she felt the need to redeem herself by crushing Scarlett?
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Her head lowered, eyes rimmed red.
What if she went to Scarlett now? Apologized. Treated her kindly from this day forward.
Scarlett, such a gentle child, would forgive her, surely.
Finished
If she did, the Lane family wouldn’t trouble Oliver. Perhaps they’d even let the Joyner family rise again.
Better that than this miserable life, trapped in obscurity with Rebecca.
She looked at her daughter again.
Once, she had been gentle, respectful to her parents, willing to shoulder burdens for the family.
Now her eyes were bloodshot, filled only with hatred.
Her face, twisted with anger, no longer resembled the daughter she remembered.
In that instant, Martha thought–Rebecca wasn’t even as beautiful as Scarlett anymore.
Not as obedient, not as considerate.
Her gaze fixed on Rebecca’s contorted features, and the guilt she had buried was consumed by a surge of
venom.
Her clenched palm throbbed with pain, and it became the spark that lit every grievance and resentment she had suppressed.
“I’m not fit to be a mother?”
Her laugh rang sharp, like nails scraping glass.
“Search your heart. What part of me ever wronged you? When you were stolen, I nearly went blind crying for you! When I found you, you were dressed like a beggar. Who pulled you out of the mud and gave you the best of everything?”
She advanced step by step, eyes bloodshot.
“If not for the fact you’re my blood, why would I have taken you back? Better to let you rot with your kidnappers forever! And now you’ve eaten what I gave you, worn what I gave you, only to turn around and curse me?”
Her voice rose, brittle with rage.
“You think it’s my fault you were kidnapped? Blame your own fate! If you hadn’t gone missing, Scarlett never would’ve taken your place! At least she knows how to curry favor, unlike you–an ungrateful dog that bites the hand that feeds!”
“Liar!”
Rebecca shook, veins standing out on her forehead.
“You never did it for me! You see Scarlett back in the Lane family and now you regret it, don’t you? You’re blaming me just to ease your guilty conscience!”
Martha snatched a photo frame from the table and hurled it to the ground, shards scattering at Rebecca’s
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Fine Proud
“I’ll tell you what I regret–1 regret not throwing you farther away back then, so I wouldn’t have raised such a wretched daughter!”
The words pierced Rebecca like a poisoned blade.
She stared at her mother’s twisted face, seeing no love there–only malice and calculation.
All the years of repression, fear of abandonment, and smoldering rage burst free at once.
“Go to hell!” Rebecca screamed, seizing a jagged shard of glass and flinging it at her.
A sharp crack echoed as it sliced past Martha’s cheek, striking the wall. A thin line of blood welled on her skin.
Martha froze, hand rising to her face. Her fingers came away red.
The pain stabbed through whatever motherly instinct she had left. sᴇaʀᴄh thᴇ (F)indNƟvᴇl.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access s of novels early and in the highest quality.
“You… you dare strike me?” Her voice quivered with shock, then exploded into fury.
“I gave birth to you, raised you–and you dare raise a hand against me?!”
Rebecca panted, chest heaving, eyes burning with madness.
“You never raised me! You only used me as your trophy! From this moment on, I have no mother–and you have no daughter!”
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