Chapter 2: The Yu Family’s Rules

When I landed here, I had just married the Buddhist kid’s father, Derek Yu.

After the wedding, Derek Yu went straight to O’Hare, planning to be away on business for three months.

He left me and the future Buddhist kid, Caleb Yu, staring at each other.

He snorted, glanced at me indifferently, then lowered his head and started rolling the prayer beads in his hand, counting them one by one, methodically.

So young, but already acting like a little old man.

The kid’s got this unbothered, almost world-weary air. It’s unsettling, watching a seven-year-old act like he’s already sat through too many board meetings. The city hums outside, but inside it’s just quiet, awkward, the kind of silence that fills up the big, echoey halls of a Gold Coast mansion. I wonder if I should say something, but he looks so absorbed, I let him be—for now.

I quickly pieced together the plot.

The good news: Caleb Yu is only seven this year—he hasn’t turned dark yet.

The bad news: I’ve got the role of a wicked stepmom.

In the original story, the previous host abused Caleb until he developed depression, then accused him of being possessed, forcibly sent him to a church-run boarding school, and left him there for more than ten years.

When Caleb returned, she was cut open for her heart and liver, and her body was dumped in the lake.

This kid grows up to be a legalist. If not for the protagonist’s plot armor, he would’ve been locked up long ago.

Now that I’m here, of course I have to defy fate and change it.

My advantage is that I look a lot like Caleb’s biological mother. I plan to use this to build a good relationship with him.

I planned to change out of my wedding dress and put on regular clothes.

But Caleb suddenly barged in, saying coldly, “You’re not allowed to touch my mom’s closet.”

In the original story, the previous host not only touched it, but also cut up and threw away his mother’s clothes, even tossing her keepsakes, and kept or sold the valuable ones for herself.

In the end, only the prayer beads in Caleb’s hand were left; that was the only pure keepsake his mother left him.

So later, whoever touched those beads would meet a bad end. Even the main character was coldly tormented by him for a long time just for touching those beads.

I hadn’t thought of this just now.

Now, I immediately closed the closet door and asked him gently:

“This wedding dress is too heavy. Are there any clothes I can wear? I’ve been standing all day, my body is so tired, and my feet really hurt. Can you help me, buddy?”

Caleb’s cheeks flushed slightly, but he still kept up his tough act.

“Don’t call me buddy. There are clothes in the guest room.”

“Alright, Cal. Can you show me the way?”

He turned to lead the way, still very serious.

“Don’t call me Cal.”

“Then what should I call you? We have to live together for a long time, I can’t just call you ‘hey’.”

“Call me by my name. My name is Caleb Yu.”

“I see, but... usually only that kind of kid gets called by their full name.”

“What kind of kid?” Caleb turned around curiously.

I coughed lightly, looking like I wanted to say something but hesitated, avoiding his gaze.

“It’s nothing. Of course, you’re not that kind of kid.”

I went into the guest room to change, shutting him out.

Nice try, kid. You’re clever, but you’ve got a few years before you can outfox me.

I hear him pacing just outside the door, probably frowning so hard his brows are touching. The kid’s stubborn; bet he’ll lose sleep puzzling over my words. I slip on a pair of yoga pants and a Bears hoodie, finally out of that ridiculous wedding dress, feeling more like myself. The guest room’s got that stale, hotel-room smell, but it’s a hell of a lot better than suffocating under lace.

The next day, Caleb got up early and sat at the dining table. When he saw me, his face was full of resentment—he wanted to speak but refused to lower himself.

Tsk, what an awkward kid. No wonder he’ll have to chase his wife all the way to the cemetery someday.

I smiled, sat at the table, and started eating.

Caleb’s face suddenly darkened.

“I said, I don’t eat green beans or broccoli.”

The cook, Mrs. Lewis, didn’t even blink and said expressionlessly, “That’s what Mr. Yu wants, young man. Every meal’s gotta have veggies and meat—no special orders, no fuss.”

Caleb was furious.

He was even more embarrassed that an outsider like me saw him like this.

He picked up his plate and slammed it hard on the floor.

“I said, I won’t eat!”

A glint of satisfaction flashed in Mrs. Lewis’s eyes, then she went cold again.

“Mr. Smith.”

Caleb flinched.

Then, the butler Mr. Smith came over, picked up Caleb, and turned to leave.

Caleb struggled, his whole body bristling like a little lion.

But the weaker he was in front of Mr. Smith, the more pathetic his struggles seemed.

I was stunned.

I hurriedly stood up and stopped Mr. Smith.

“What are you doing?”

My chair screeched as I jumped up. Mrs. Lewis eyed me like I’d just sprouted horns. The smell of burnt toast hung in the air, clashing with Caleb’s sharp cry. The whole room froze, the kind of tension that makes you want to smash something—if Caleb hadn’t already beaten me to it.