Chapter 8

Chapter 8

My psychologist told Mom about my recovery progress.

“Since you’re doing so much better, you should stay at home from now on,” Mom said. “Your sister-in-law is the same age as you—I don’t have much in common with her at my age. It’ll be nice to have you home to keep her company.”

When I was a kid, I’d been thin and sallow, with thick black-rimmed glasses. Over the years abroad, I’d gotten double eyelid surgery, and my skin had become much healthier. This time, it seemed Linda Brown didn’t recognize me.

She knew my status in the family and how my parents doted on me, so she was friendly to me both in public and in private.

In my past life, she’d pretended to sympathize with my suffering in front of others, but behind my back, she’d shown her true colors. Back then, she’d recognized me from a photo I’d taken with my family shortly after I returned home and, when we were alone, had sneered, “Nina Miller, you’re still the same useless trash you were as a kid.”

She was still the same—bullying the weak and fearing the strong.

I played along, pretending to be on good terms with her.

As the days passed, Ryan Wilson seemed to have settled down. The person I’d hired to monitor him said he hadn’t been seeing other women for a long time. Now he was starting to work harder, and David Wilson was pleased. He gave Ryan some real authority in the company and began grooming him to take over the business eventually.

Linda Brown’s belly grew bigger every day, and she took the health supplements I gave her regularly. The supplements were custom-made—and I’d added a little “extra” to them. Taking them regularly would make the fetus grow larger, ensuring she’d have a hard time giving birth.

In those days, I’d also spent a lot of time telling Mom how good natural childbirth was for newborns.