Chapter 6: No Turning Back

In the afternoon, the police came.

But since we didn’t know where my sister’s family had the accident, the police couldn’t investigate.

They even thought the whole thing was a farce.

My stepmom immediately denied it: "Who would joke about life and death? How unlucky!"

"They must have fallen into the lake, definitely. Please help us find them!"

The police frowned at her words.

Our city’s lakeshore stretches for dozens of miles, and there are no cameras nearby. Investigating would be extremely difficult.

In the end, the police told us to wait for news.

I saw the police out and quietly asked how long a missing person would be considered dead in this situation.

The officer told me that if it’s an accidental disappearance, generally after two years, they can be declared dead by law.

Two years...

I silently repeated the words in my heart.

That’s too long, with too many uncertainties.

I can’t wait two years. My mind ran wild, picturing all the legal hoops and the constant, gnawing anxiety of not knowing. That limbo could grind anyone down.

7

Back home, my stepmom still wouldn’t let go of Hannah’s adoption issue.

My niece clung to my leg, crying, "Uncle, do you not like me?"

I crouched down, smiling gently at her:

"How could uncle not like you? Hannah is uncle’s precious darling."

But then I changed the subject, looking troubled: "But uncle is about to lose his job. If Hannah stays with me, you’ll have to suffer. Can you handle that?"

Hannah instinctively glanced at my stepmom, as if seeking guidance.

My stepmom looked surprised and asked me directly, "What unemployment? Isn’t your job very stable?"

I sighed: "Recently, the industry isn’t doing well. I’ve been at the company for a long time, so my salary is high. That’s why I was in the first batch to be laid off."

I swallowed hard, thinking of my dwindling checking account and the stack of unopened bills on the counter.

My stepmom opened her mouth, hesitating to speak.

She glanced around my apartment.

This 1,600-square-foot apartment in Jersey City was worth nearly $700,000—enough to make anyone greedy.

I immediately added:

"The place is mortgaged too. Soon I’ll have to move."

That sentence instantly shattered her fantasy.

My stepmom frowned: "Why would you mortgage your place for no reason?"

I looked gloomy and explained slowly:

"A bad friend recommended a 'sure-win' project before Christmas. I invested and lost everything."

"Not only is the place mortgaged, but all my savings from over a decade of work are gone."

"Plus, with unemployment looming, I really can't imagine how much Hannah would suffer if she stayed with me."

Hearing this, my stepmom’s face turned frighteningly dark.

The next second, she lashed out: "Ryan, are you making excuses to shirk responsibility?"

She jabbed a finger in my face, her voice rising to that pitch that always made the neighbors bang on the walls.

8

I mimicked her earlier tantrum at the police, raising my voice and shouting:

"Who would joke about something like this!"

My thunderous roar startled my stepmom, her face changing instantly.

"Hahaha, the old witch is stumped now—she must be regretting it to her bones."

"The main character’s move is brilliant."

I sneered inwardly.

Trying to scheme against me? Not so easy.

Sure enough, my stepmom left in disappointment, gritting her teeth and dragging Hannah away.

Hannah is also a fair-weather kid. Before leaving, she even shot me a vicious glare.

What a little devil.

But less than ten minutes after they left, the comments exploded again.

"The old witch is checking your assets. Main character, think fast!"

[She’s even contacting your colleagues to ask about the layoffs. She never intended to give up.]

My heart tightened. I immediately contacted my best friend and transferred all my funds to his company as an investment, and mortgaged the apartment to him as well.

Although I moved the money quickly, there was no time to handle the company’s layoffs.

Soon, my stepmom called. As soon as I answered, she started cursing:

"Ryan, do you have a conscience? Still pretending you’re not making excuses to avoid adopting? You’re such a jerk!"

"I’m warning you, Hannah is your own niece. If you dare neglect her, I won’t let you off!"

"Open the door, I’ve already brought Hannah to your doorstep!"

Her words rang through my cell, echoing off the bare kitchen walls. I could practically feel the neighbor’s eyes burning through their peepholes, waiting for the next act in our family soap opera.

My phone buzzed again. This time, her text had a picture—Hannah, suitcase in hand, standing in the hallway. No turning back now.