Chapter 2The Ungrateful Five

Ashton was, in fact, thrown out of the house.

When the butler dumped his suitcases and Vivian's handbag on the curb outside the villa, he still couldn't believe it.

"Mom! You'll regret this!" he screamed at me.

I ignored him, simply signaling for the guards to close the heavy, ornate iron gates.

The four remaining sons looked at me as if I were a stranger.

"Mom, you're playing favorites," Caleb, the actor, said first, his voice laced with undisguised disappointment.

"Ashton was just worried about Vivian. You didn't have to take it this far," Dylan, the doctor, added with a frown.

Leo, the lawyer, was more direct. "Legally speaking, you can't unilaterally terminate an adoption."

I held Nina close, turned, and faced them. "Favorites?"

I smiled. "Fine. I'll show you what playing favorites really looks like."

That night, the news of Ashton being kicked out spread like wildfire through their social circle. The next day, the internet exploded.

#SuperstarCalebSterlingAllegedlyAbusedByStepmother

#RichStepmotherFavorsBioDaughterDrivesOutAdoptedSon

The hashtags shot to the top of the trending lists.

It started on a live-streamed variety show. The host asked Caleb if anything was bothering him lately. He looked into the camera with his famously melancholic eyes and sighed. "It's nothing. Just… some minor friction at home. I guess since I'm not her real son, there's always going to be a distance."

He didn't say much, but it was more than enough to set his fans off. They immediately began concocting elaborate stories of a wicked, abusive stepmother. My social media accounts and my company's official website were instantly flooded with furious comments.

Vicious woman! He thought of you as a mother, and you treated him like a slave?

My heart breaks for Caleb! Just because he's not your biological son, he deserves to be bullied?

That mute daughter is probably no good either. Bet she's a manipulative little snake!

My PR manager's phone was ringing off the hook. "Mrs. Sterling, what do we do? The company's stock is starting to drop!"

I was in the garden, enjoying the sun with Nina. My voice was calm. "Do nothing."

I hung up and scrolled through the vile, hateful comments on my phone, completely unfazed.

I made another call, this time to the manager of my private trust fund. "Mr. Davies, I need you to prepare the documents for the trust funds I set up for my five sons. I want to make them public."

"Each one is worth ten million dollars. They can access a portion upon reaching adulthood with proof of identity, and they get full control at twenty-five."

Mr. Davies was confused, but he did as he was told.

Half an hour later, a notarized copy of the trust fund documents was released by a well-known financial influencer.

EXCLUSIVE! The "wicked stepmother" from the rumors, Susan Sterling, established a ten-million-dollar trust fund for EACH of her five adopted sons years ago, accessible upon adulthood. The documents are verified and can be authenticated by any legal institution.

Public opinion flipped on a dime.

Ten million. For each of them. Five times over.

What did that even mean?

Holy crap! Ten million each! That's fifty million! This is abuse? This is loving them with her whole life!

I hereby declare that this is my real mother! Mom, are you looking for another son? One who can feed himself?

Get in line! She's MY mom! So what is Caleb even complaining about? For a mom who gives me ten million, I'd wash her feet every day on my knees!

Wait, I think I get it. The biological daughter probably doesn't have one, right? So the brothers feel like their mom is being unfair and want to stand up for their sister? This family's relationship is so good!

Caleb's management team was in a full-blown crisis. He had tried to cultivate a "tragic but talented" persona, but with one move—my "superpower" of overwhelming cash—I had turned him into an ungrateful brat who was biting the hand that fed him.

His agent scrambled to release an apology, claiming Caleb was just in a bad mood and spoke without thinking, and had absolutely no intention of criticizing his adoptive mother. Caleb himself was forced to repost the apology.

He returned home looking defeated, and when he saw me doing a puzzle with Nina, his face was, for the first time, tinged with unease.

"Mom."

I didn't look up. "Have you learned your lesson?"

He fell silent.

"I did nothing wrong," he muttered stubbornly. "You kicked Ashton out. You're still playing favorites."

I finally raised my eyes to meet his. "Caleb, you need to remember something. What I give you is a gift. It's given out of love. And I can take it back anytime I want."

"Including everything you have now."

His face went pale.

Just then, Vivian arrived, carrying a fruit basket. "Auntie, I came to see you. Caleb, please don't make Auntie angry," she said, playing the peacemaker.

She walked over to Nina, crouched down, and smiled sweetly. "Nina, I'm sorry. The other day was my fault. I was clumsy. Please don't hold it against me."

As she spoke, she reached for the pot of hot soup on the table, as if to serve Nina a bowl.

And then, her hand "accidentally" slipped.

The scalding hot soup tipped, heading straight for Nina's hand!

My eyes flashed. In a split second, I grabbed Vivian's wrist and twisted it, hard.

"Ahhh—!"

A scream ripped through the air. The bowl of hot soup splashed all over the back of her own hand. Her fair skin instantly turned a blotchy, angry red.

"Vivian!"

Caleb and Dylan, who had just walked in, both cried out and rushed over. Vivian was in tears from the pain, looking at me with disbelief.

But I was "panicked" even faster than she was.

"Oh, Vivian! How could you be so careless!" I cried, grabbing her burned hand, my face a mask of "concern."

"Quickly! Dylan, you're a doctor, take a look at her!" I shouted, all while squeezing her wound, my words full of feigned worry.

"Oh, Vivian, I know you feel wronged. I know you wanted to show everyone your resolve, but how could you hurt yourself just to frame Nina?"

"Nina doesn't understand anything! You're going to scare her!" My voice was filled with "heartbreak."

Caleb and Dylan were frozen. They looked from Vivian's rapidly blistering hand to my daughter, cowering in my arms, the picture of innocence.

Vivian's lips were white with pain. She shook her head frantically. "No… Auntie, you… you accidentally…"

"Yes, yes, it's my fault. I couldn't stop you," I immediately "blamed" myself. "It's all my fault I couldn't prevent you from hurting yourself. Please, don't ever do this again. It breaks my heart."

Dylan, the doctor, immediately began emergency treatment for Vivian's burn. His gaze, for the first time, shifted back and forth between Vivian's pale, protesting face and my own "concerned" expression.

A tiny seed of doubt had been planted.