"I was only trying to help. The Garcia family has a lot at stake. There are too many cases of people using children to trap and marry into wealth. I..."
She looked at Eason, bit her lip, and shook her head, playing the victim perfectly.
My eyes grew colder, my voice devoid of warmth.
"Eason, do you think I'm lying?"
He didn't answer, but his expression said everything.
The medical records were real.
I had accompanied my mother for the check-up six months ago.
So Cindy she focused on the plane ticket.
My mother didn't take a plane.
Airfare was too costly.
To save money for my dowry, she endured a grueling 30-hour train ride in a hard seat.
It was just to attend a wedding that didn't exist.
Yet Eason couldn't even be bothered to play his part.
In hindsight, he had never truly reciprocated my feelings. Our ending was inevitable from the moment we met.
I deluded myself into believing he loved me, searching for signs in every moment we shared.
Everything was fine for five years.
But Cindy's arrival shattered that fragile balance.
Eason started feeling real emotions—joy, anger, sorrow—and he learned to love.
He would consult me when Cindy had a stomachache.
He'd stock allergy medicine in the car for her.