Chapter 9

Jamie reached out, wanting to touch Mr. Bunny, but I pushed him—still recovering from a serious illness—to the ground. I gazed indifferently at the pale, helpless face of the young boy who looked up at me, then said, "Don't touch my mother's belongings with your dirty hands." Ivy's surprised gasp followed instantly.

The uninvited woman regarded Jamie with concern before sternly questioning me. "Maliyah, are you crazy? Just because Brock doesn't want you, you're treating his son like this?" I knew Brock stood behind me. Ivy's words were clearly intended to incite discord.

I lowered my head and laughed. Even now, this woman still thought so highly of herself. I walked to Ivy and, without a word, slapped her. She was stunned, opened her mouth to speak, and I slapped her again. Finally regaining her senses, Ivy, tears welling, was about to attack, but Brock intervened.

I heard him interjecting, advising me to calm down. Ivy's face cycled through pale and red, a revolving lantern of emotion. "Brock, I was beaten, Ivy! Not her, Maliyah!"

Faced with Ivy's uncontrolled screaming, Brock, with a grim expression, said, "I've dismissed you. It has nothing to do with Maliyah. Please leave."

Ivy's eyes widened incredulously. "This woman hit me and pushed your son! Are you blind, Brock?!"

Jamie slowly stood, leaning against the wall. In a muted voice, he said, "Regardless of my mother's actions, it was my own fault for falling."

Ivy's face went white; she stumbled backward.

...

"Brock, you bastard! You and your son are both bastards!"

After Ivy ran off, weeping, Brock and Jamie hesitated, their eyes hopeful as they looked at me. I knew their thoughts: without Ivy, I would soften, return to the family, and resume being a good wife and mother.

As I took a few steps, Brock's voice called out, seizing the opportunity. "Maliyah, Jamie and I drove two hours this morning, and we haven't eaten." He continued, "Actually, I don't mind, but Jamie's still growing—can you make him some noodles?"

I thought a moment, then said, "Wait outside the gate; I'll bring you some food."

Instead of the kitchen, I took Mr. Bunny to my room, opened the top drawer of my dressing table, and retrieved a prepared document. Two minutes later, I handed this document and a bag of bread to Jamie.

"I consulted a lawyer," I said to Brock and Jamie. "Formally severing the mother-son relationship is difficult in our country." But it didn't matter. "As long as Jamie signs this contract, I'll have no further obligation to care for him in his old age. Since I chose to abandon him, he won’t bear the responsibility of caring for me." This agreement was solely for Jamie's protection.

But the young man suddenly knelt, red-eyed, clutching my pants, crying and begging for forgiveness.