Chapter 2: The Ghost Who Calls Back

4

Marcus said that as long as he was unhappy, he’d cut off my tuition and living expenses.

But I made a promise to Mom—I’d get into the best college. I can’t break my promise.

So as long as Marcus keeps supporting me, I can endure anything.

I pressed my lips together and turned away.

Then, a gentle voice from behind: "Dad, why not let Natalie blow out the candles, too? Today’s her birthday, too. Actually, she’s looking forward to it—yesterday she even tried on my evening dress..."

I frowned and turned, ready to say I didn’t, but a wave of contempt crashed over me:

"Wow, the housekeeper’s kid dares to steal the owner’s dress."

"Savannah, did you disinfect this dress?"

"Unbelievable."

"So she’s a thief."

It stung, but I kept my face blank. You get used to it, after a while, people talking about you like you’re not even there. I dug my fingernails into my palm and tried to focus on anything but their words. The smell of frosted cake. The hum of the refrigerator. Anything.

5

Hearing those voices, I almost wanted to shove Savannah’s face into the cake. Let her choke on it.

I admit it. Last night, when she flaunted her new dress, I was jealous. But it was just envy. I never stole anything. I’m not a thief.

My eyes burned with anger, but I didn’t dare move. Because Marcus must’ve sensed it—he stepped in front of Savannah, his face darkening as he glared at me. Contempt. Hatred. Indifference.

"How could she have a daughter like you?"

"Apologize. Or you can drop out tomorrow."

My hands shook so badly I almost dropped the dish towel. I swallowed, trying to find my voice.

Threatening me again. Heh.

"How could she have a husband like you?"

As soon as I finished, Marcus’s face turned stormy. I’d never seen him look so terrifying. The room went dead quiet. It was like I’d just tossed a grenade in the middle of Savannah’s perfect birthday. Even the air seemed to shrink back.

6

"Smack—"

A slap echoed through the living room. Marcus hadn’t touched me in years, but now, on my birthday, he did.

My right cheek stung and swelled instantly. My cheek burned, but what hurt worse was the way he looked at me—like he wished I’d never been born.

Savannah looked confused, as if she’d done a good deed gone wrong, and rushed over to smooth things over:

"Dad, girls just like pretty dresses. I didn’t mean it that way."

Then what did she mean?

Forget it. I’d already been slapped anyway. It didn’t matter anymore.

So—

"Smack, smack, smack—"

I slapped Savannah three times in a row. "This is the price for framing me."

Savannah staggered back, her hand flying to her cheek. For a second, nobody moved. Even the Spotify playlist cut out. My hands stung, but it felt good in a wild, reckless way, like breaking the rules and not caring about the fallout for once in my life. The stunned silence that followed was its own reward.

7

After being hit by me, Savannah looked like a wilted white rose.

"Natalie..."

Marcus looked heartbroken as he helped Savannah up, gently comforting her: "Does it hurt? I’ll get you a doctor right away."

Savannah sobbed, "It’s okay, Dad, don’t blame Natalie. I beg you—don’t hit her again."

After she finished, her classmates finally snapped out of their shock, all scolding her for being too nice and urging Marcus to kick me out.

Ha. Kick me out. I felt both bitter and sad.

Looking up, for the first time, I met Marcus’s eyes, and saw clearly the coldness in his gaze. His voice was icy, without a trace of warmth.

"Natalie. I will send you to foster care. From today on, don’t ever set foot in this house again."

Foster care. Fine by me. I was already an orphan anyway. And at the foster home, I could keep up with my studies. Way better than living with Marcus.

……Soon after—

Marcus’s assistant asked me to leave. I turned and walked away without hesitation. Not the least bit nostalgic.

But after only a few steps—

The phone in my pocket suddenly rang. At first, I didn’t want to answer. But the vibration, again and again, seemed to knock on the door of my heart.

In the end, I couldn’t help but take out my phone. I glanced at the caller ID.

Instantly. I froze. I couldn’t believe it. I blinked hard.

"Mom—"

"It’s Mom."

I couldn’t help but stop in my tracks. The assistant beside me urged, "Come on, Marcus doesn’t want to see you anymore..."

I ignored him, my hands trembling as I pressed answer. Even though I knew it was impossible.

Mom was already dead. Ten years now. This number had never called again.

Could it be a prank?

But even so—

Mom is already dead.

I answered.

But didn’t dare to speak. Mouth open, not knowing what to say.

But the other side spoke first. It was a familiar voice—

"Sweetheart, happy birthday."

"It’s been so long. Mommy misses you so much."

Her voice, through the phone’s speaker, filled Marcus’s living room. I didn’t care that people were staring. My heart was hammering so loudly I could barely hear anything else. I squeezed my eyes shut and listened, desperate not to let go.

8

Mom’s voice was exactly the same as in my memory. Unchanged at all. Like a cup of warm, clear water. Gentle, soft.

"Mom—"

I cried out loud. Is it really you? Mom?

The world seemed to tilt. I gripped the phone so hard my knuckles went white. Was this a prank, or had I finally lost it?

At that moment, my palm was suddenly empty. He snatched the phone right out of my hand. I lunged for it, but he was too tall, holding it just out of reach like he used to with my favorite toys.

Marcus glared at me, then had the housekeeper pull me away. Our eyes met, and I saw his eyes were red. But when he spoke, his voice was still cold.

"Who are you? Why are you pretending to be my wife?"

Me: …

Was he really that cold? Couldn’t he hear it was her?

Both my instinct and my ears told me, this is Mom.

Sure enough, after a moment—

A voice came from the phone: "I am Lillian, your wife. Marcus, didn’t you say before that even if I became a gust of wind, you’d recognize me? What’s going on now? You can’t even recognize my voice? Did you forget me? Fine, give me back my daughter, let’s get divorced."

No one had spoken to Marcus like this in years. Marcus’s assistants all trembled, afraid he’d explode.

But unexpectedly, Marcus’s face softened a little. He almost choked up when he spoke.

"Lilly. It’s really you. Where are you? I’ll come see you right away."

He sounded almost like a boy, despite being middle-aged. "And don’t talk about divorce! I’ll never divorce you!"

Lillian was speechless: "Remember to bring our daughter. Natalie must be even more beautiful now."

There was a hush, like everyone knew this was a moment nobody would forget. The housekeeper’s eyes were round as saucers. Even Savannah’s friends stopped whispering. I pressed my hand to my cheek, not sure if I wanted to laugh or cry.