Chapter 2
After giving birth to a stillborn child, I suffered from postpartum depression, feeling gloomy all day, but Alexander was completely unaware. Because he was in the warm greenhouse taking care of the heavily pregnant Zoe. Through the translucent glass, I saw Alexander kneeling on the ground, gently massaging Zoe’s feet. I was supposed to be Alexander’s wife, yet he brazenly brought his mistress home to care for her. The glass greenhouse was Alexander’s wedding gift to me, but now I was shut out. After seeing the death certificate of the child, Alexander not only didn’t comfort me but cursed at me: “Olivia Reed, you’re a jinx. Not only did you kill my mother, but you also caused the death of your own child!” “Evil people get evil rewards. This is the retribution for all your wrongdoings!” Zoe then moved into the Foster home with the air of the true mistress. “Mrs. Foster’s last wish before she died was for Alexander to bring me into the Foster home to take care of.” “I’m the daughter-in-law truly accepted by the Foster family, while you’re just a gold digger who schemed her way into a wealthy family.” In the warm greenhouse, Alexander embraced Zoe and kissed her, both looking intoxicated. And I, because of unfounded accusations, had lost my dignity and love, becoming a “Mrs. Foster” in name only. Tears rolled down my cheeks as I fell into memories. That day, I accompanied Alexander to a family dinner, only to be met with cold stares from countless people. I had always been low-key, dressed simply. But Mrs. Foster looked me up and down coldly, her words full of sarcasm: “Olivia Reed, coming to a family dinner dressed so shabbily, aren’t you embarrassing our Foster family?” In stark contrast to me was Zoe. She walked gracefully behind Mrs. Foster in a pink dress, thoughtfully giving her a massage. “Mom, I brought you some homemade pastries. Please try them.” Mrs. Foster beamed with joy, accepting the homemade pastries from Zoe’s hand, praising Zoe incessantly for her thoughtfulness. Seeing how close they were, I could only smile awkwardly: “Mom, I also brought you some pastries. They’re imported from abroad.” Before coming, I had inquired about Mrs. Foster’s favorite pastry flavors and specially flew abroad to buy imported pastries for her. But Mrs. Foster didn’t even look at me, as if I were invisible beside her. It was the same flavor, yet I unexpectedly lost to Zoe’s homemade pastries… If I had made the pastries myself, Mrs. Foster would probably have accused me of being “stingy” and “unwilling to spend money.” I understood that gifts weren’t about their value, but about the person giving them. The Summers and Foster families were old friends, and Zoe had grown up with Alexander. Naturally, Mrs. Foster would favor her. But such differential treatment still made me extremely uncomfortable. I left the gifts and pastries and departed in distress. Zoe, however, pretended to be understanding behind my back and said: “Mom, after all, this is Olivia’s gesture of goodwill. Why don’t you try a piece…” But halfway through the family dinner, Mrs. Foster suddenly collapsed, foaming at the mouth. Alexander turned pale with fright, kneeling beside his mother to check her breathing: “Call an ambulance quickly!” When Mrs. Foster was sent to the emergency room, it was already too late, and the hospital doctors could do nothing to save her. With her dying breath, Mrs. Foster called Alexander in and, with her last words, instructed him to take good care of Zoe. The hospital’s test results came out - she had eaten pastries containing severe allergens, leading to shock and death. Alexander returned to the family dinner, slamming his fist on the table, his voice full of anger. He pointed at the opened pastries on the table and shouted, “Who brought these pastries?” Everyone present didn’t know what had happened and was too scared to make a sound. I stepped forward and, seeing the opened pastries, turned deathly pale - The opened pastries on the table were actually the imported ones I had brought for Mrs. Foster! “Alexander, these are the pastries I specially bought from abroad for your mother…” Before I could finish speaking, the cold gazes of everyone present fell upon me. Zoe furrowed her brow, walked in front of me, her voice full of disbelief: “Olivia Reed, you’re Alexander’s wife. How could you be so vicious as to want to kill his mother?” “These pastries contain concentrated peanut butter. Mrs. Foster was severely allergic to peanuts. Didn’t you know that?”