Chapter 2The Second Chance Menu

"What are you arguing about?" Richard stood on the second floor, looking down.

Vivian glanced at him and applied the ice pack to my hand.

I hissed in pain.

Richard's gaze moved from my hand to the cigarette butt on the floor. His expression was cold. "Can't even take care of a child?"

Vivian looked annoyed: "Don't act high and mighty. Just get lost."

Suddenly, she paused. "That necklace at the auction a few days ago... were you bidding against me?"

Richard met her gaze.

She smiled sarcastically. "Didn't you know? Your little mistress is already parading it around town."

"She's not my mistress," Richard said, his thin lips pressed together in displeasure.

"Right, right, she's your true love." She waved her hand dismissively. "Wishing you eternal happiness."

Richard exhaled, slowly walking downstairs. "We're going to the banquet together tonight."

As if Vivian expected this, she chuckled, slowly draping her arm over his shoulder and exhaling into his ear, "Beg me, Mr. Jiang."

Richard took a step back, his body slightly tense, warning: "The child is here. Don't be ridiculous."

She let out a bored "Oh" and said to me, "Go upstairs. The doctor will come to your room."

After I closed my bedroom door.

I heard a vase shatter outside.

I sat at my desk and opened my diary from memory.

Eight-year-old me had a terrible relationship with Ms. Vivian.

No fatherly love growing up, and barely any motherly love either.

While other kids were being cuddled, I was already serving tea to my mom. She never cared about my life, spending every day elegantly dressing up, doing her hair, nails, and facials.

Occasionally, when maternal instincts struck, she'd read me skincare tips.

Any event requiring a parent was attended by the butler, Grandpa Lee.

Later, I often thought my existence was unwelcome. I wasn't the child of the woman my father loved, and maybe my mother often regretted having me, as my birth had damaged her body.

...

I flipped to the last page of the diary.

[Lucas invited me to play the day after tomorrow. I want to go, but Uncle Julian will be there. I hate Uncle Julian. He always looks at Mom weirdly.]

Sixteen-year-old me reading what eight-year-old me wrote felt complicated.

Ten minutes later, there was a knock on the door.

I cleared my throat. "Come in."

Vivian walked in, followed by the family doctor, who opened his kit to bandage me up.

Vivian sat naturally on my bed. She paused. "Do you want to go to the banquet tonight? Your grandparents want to see you. It's fine if you don't go; it's a mixed crowd."

I thought for a moment.

Uncle Julian would be there. I had to go scope out the situation.

I nodded: "I'll go."

Vivian shrugged. "Suit yourself."

After the doctor finished, Vivian went to prepare her gown.

Watching her slender back, I couldn't help but speak: "Mom."

She froze, awkwardly rubbing the goosebumps on her arm. "...What is it?"

I pouted. "I don't have a suitable dress."

Vivian liked expensive, exquisite dresses, but I only cared about comfort. I wore T-shirts and shorts everywhere.

And I never let her pick my clothes. I only liked bright, flashy colors like red and green.

Vivian turned around in shock, looking like she'd seen a ghost. "Really? You really want to wear a dress?"

She came over and felt my forehead, muttering, "No fever."

My lip trembled, tears welling up. "Other kids have pretty dresses, but I don't!"

She looked at me blankly. "You... you can't blame me for that. Every time I mention your outfits, you get mad."

So eventually, she stopped caring what I wore.

"I don't care. I want a dress." I wiped a tear.

She had never seen me like this and was stunned for a moment. "Fine, I'll have someone prepare it. But I'm telling you now, you have to wear dress shoes with it. No sneakers. Tsk, stop crying..."