The messages were from Lilian. She had sent photos of Cynthia and herself, both dressed in white. Lilian wore a wedding gown, while Cynthia wore a bridesmaid's dress that was as exquisite as the gown, in both design and fabric. Standing together, they complemented each other perfectly, like the sun and moon shining together in the sky.

Cynthia had just told Jonathan she would be Lilian's bridesmaid, but seeing the photos, he felt a strange unease. Lilian's satisfied smile, with tears glistening in her eyes, caused him piercing discomfort. He'd felt this unsettling feeling only once before—when he thought Cynthia liked Filip. Now, however, he felt an inexplicable wariness, which made him chuckle at his own reaction. The more he looked, the more he felt something was wrong; Lilian had already gotten what she wanted; there was no reason for her to hold on.

Recalling Lilian's past actions, Jonathan's expression grew serious. He had a theory, but wasn't sure of it.

Cynthia soon returned, bringing her food instead of eating in the cafeteria. Jonathan was in a video meeting, so she sat on the sofa and ate. He seemed somewhat distracted, occasionally glancing at Cynthia. The meeting ended, but Cynthia hadn't finished her meal when Jonathan joined her. However, he kept his suspicions to himself—firstly, because he wasn't certain, and even if true, telling Cynthia would only cause unnecessary worry. He decided to wait and see what Lilian intended to do.

Meanwhile, Shirley had been in detention for half a month, living like a miserable shadow of her former self. The most unbearable part was that no one had visited—not Justin, not Selena. Despite countless calls, they refused, saying this was her consequence, that wrongdoing deserved punishment. But Shirley believed she was not in the wrong. She thought Cynthia, who had "stolen" her place, was at fault. Cynthia, in Shirley's view, should have remained a nobody, yet had risen to great heights. Shirley couldn't accept this. Eventually, however, she caved, realizing that without the Jones family's support, she might end up in jail.

BJ's lawyer had visited to inform her that she was being formally prosecuted, with a court date set for three days later. Shirley knew that without the Jones family's help, she would undoubtedly go to jail. She didn't want that. She knew how formidable BJ's lawyer was, and a conviction could mean ten years or more—her prime years gone, her name forever stained, her life ruined.

Yet the Jones family refused to help, and Shirley hated them for it. In the end, she called Rachel. Knowing Cynthia and Rachel were close, Shirley believed Rachel could convince Cynthia to drop the charges, or perhaps even issue a letter of forgiveness, forcing the authorities to release her.

Rachel arrived quickly; she hadn't known Shirley was in custody. Upon arrival, the police explained the situation: Shirley had drugged Cynthia three years ago, attempting to ruin her reputation.

In the visitation room, a handcuffed Shirley was led in. The policewoman said sternly, "You have fifteen minutes. If there's anything you want to say, make it quick." As soon as the door closed, Shirley lunged toward Rachel, kneeling and begging, "Mom, please save me. Please help me."

She knew Rachel was soft-hearted. Since childhood, if Shirley admitted wrongdoing, Rachel always cleaned up the mess. Shirley cried, "They all want me to go to jail; none of them care about me. Mom, only you love me, only you are truly my mother. I was wrong, Mom, I really know I was wrong."

Seeing Shirley's distress, Rachel felt heartbroken. She scolded, "Shirley, how could you do such a thing? Haven't you learned anything? How could you drug Cynthia? How could you be so vicious?"

Shirley clung to Rachel's leg, her last hope. "Mom, I know I was wrong, and I regret it deeply. I shouldn't have done that. But it was three years ago—a silly mistake when I was young. I acted in the heat of the moment. Mom, please, you're the only one who can save me."

Rachel slowly squatted. Seeing Shirley's haggard appearance, she wept. Shirley had lost a shocking amount of weight. "Shirley, what can I do? I don't have the power to help you," Rachel said.

Shirley replied, "Mom, you do—you're the only one. Please ask Cynthia to drop the charges. Beg her to let me go. She listens to you most now. If you ask her to drop the case and issue a letter of forgiveness, I'm sure she'll agree."

Rachel froze, conflicted. "I can't do that. I can't force Cynthia."

Shirley continued, "Mom, do you realize what's at stake? If you don't help, I'm going to prison. Do you want that for me? Do you want me to spend my life in a hopeless place? Can you really leave me like that? We've depended on each other for twenty years. You're my mother—how could you turn your back on me?"

Rachel was heartbroken. Shirley pleaded, "Mom, I'm begging you. Please help me. You're the only one who can. Now I understand—you're the only one who truly cares about me. Once I'm out, I'll cut ties with the Jones family. I've seen their true colors. Giving birth doesn't guarantee closeness; it's nurturing that builds bonds. You raised me. I have no real connection with them. Once I get out, I'll do everything you say. I'll live with you. We can start a small business. I won't cause more trouble. I've given up on marrying into a wealthy family. I'll live a steady life with you. I'll take care of you for the rest of your life. Mom, I'm Shirley, your daughter."

Rachel, overwhelmed with sadness, said, "Shirley, it's too late for you to understand these things." She wiped away Shirley's tears. "Shirley, since you know you were wrong, let's work to make it right, okay? No matter the outcome, you will always be my daughter, and I will never give up on you. I'll be here, preparing for when you're out. If you go to prison, use the time to reflect. If you show good behavior, they'll surely reduce your sentence."

Before Rachel could finish, Shirley pushed her away in a fit of fury.

The final section seems to have some garbled text ("宙"). I have omitted it.