Chapter 2

Jackson looked confused as he finished reading the letter, then stared at my mom like she was insane:

"Mom, whether this thing is real or fake, it's ancient history."

"I don't care about the past. I only care about the future."

"I'm happy with Claire. Don't worry—I'll never betray her."

Jackson squeezed my hand tight.

Where my fingers had been ice-cold, his warmth gradually spread through them.

Most of my anger melted away.

Ever since the love letter incident, my mom kept telling me I didn't deserve a good man.

After I started working, she set me up on blind dates.

A limping pauper, a thug fresh out of prison, a middle-aged man divorced three times...

My mom always said since she couldn't marry a good man, I deserved even less.

But Jackson had held my hand firmly from the very beginning.

Jackson's considerate response made my mom furious.

No matter what nonsense she spouted, Jackson took my side.

She turned her attention back to me.

"Claire, how many months along are you?"

I answered cautiously: "Almost four months."

My mom smiled with relief.

"Four months... heh, you should start getting stretch marks soon."

"Claire, you're finally going to get stretch marks. When I was pregnant with you, I got a belly full of stretch marks. Your dad was so disgusted he cheated. Once you get stretch marks, Jackson will definitely do the same..."

Watching the satisfaction in my mom's smile, I shivered.

A desolate sadness welled up inside me.

We were mother and daughter, not enemies.

Why was my mom so eager to see me get stretch marks, so desperate to watch my husband cheat?

Shouldn't a mother want her daughter to be happy?

Thinking about how ugly I'd be after pregnancy, my mom couldn't hide her excitement.

She went on and on, her face animated:

"Stretch marks are nothing—that's the least of it."

"You'll also get fat, get spots, become too ugly to look at. After giving birth, you'll leak urine, you'll be loose. Jackson will find touching you disgusting, and then naturally he'll cheat."

"I suffered through all that pain—why shouldn't you experience it too?"

Even good-tempered Jackson was angered by my mom now.

He glared at her unhappily:

"Mom, that won't happen."

"I've booked Claire a hundred-thousand-dollar postpartum care center, and I've hired a top-tier maternity nurse. With professional help for Claire's recovery, she won't become what you're describing."

"Besides, even if Claire did become like you said, I'd only feel heartbroken and guilty. How could I cheat?"

My mom's mouth fell open, her eyes going blank.

I thought she was going to make a scene.

Going to complain that she never got to stay at a postpartum center when she was young, so why should I?

But she didn't.

My mom just kept piling food onto Jackson's plate in a daze, muttering "eat more, eat more."

In her eyes, there was jealousy, but more than that, there was loss and pain.

My heart suddenly dropped with a sharp pang.

No matter what, my mom had raised me alone.

Her jealousy was real, but her love didn't seem fake either.

She was old now. Jackson and I could be patient with her as much as possible.

The New Year's dinner ended in a strange atmosphere.

Soon, I reached my second trimester.

Jackson took me to tour the postpartum center, only to receive a notification from the staff.

"Ms. Brooks, the deluxe suite has been canceled by your mother."

"If you have questions, you should discuss it with her."

My heart instantly plummeted.

I rushed home to confront her. As soon as I walked in, I was blinded by the gleaming gold bracelet on my mom's wrist.

I didn't need to think twice to know where the money came from.

I got even angrier, grabbing her hand to demand answers:

"When I got married, you said you never had wedding jewelry yourself, so why should I? I felt bad for you, so I gave you all my wedding gold without a word."

"Mom, if you wanted to buy gold, you could've just told me! I would've bought it for you. Why did you cancel my postpartum center!"