Home At Last

The moment the servants scattered, the last wisp of air left my lungs.

My soul drifted weightlessly out of my body.

I hovered in a daze, half-transparent, and softly asked the system in my mind, 'Can you transmit me now? I want to go home.'

But the system's mechanical voice was flat and unyielding: [Only once the male and female leads acknowledge your death can you exit this world.]

I paused for a moment, then let it go. I'd survived decades—what was a little more waiting?

I was certain that Nathan, who couldn't stand to be apart from me for even a minute back then, would come looking for me like a madman within half an hour at most.

But I waited from dawn to dusk, and from dusk until ice formed on the pool. His familiar figure never appeared.

Something hollowed out in my chest. Against my will, I drifted toward the villa.

The moment I passed through the door, a warm scene unfolded before me.

Nathan had his arm gently around Vivian, leaning down to teach her how to paint.

Our son, Nathan Jr., curled up beside them, his face full of adoring smiles.

And the woman in the painting—she looked almost like me. Except for one detail: at the corner of her eye, there was a delicate, alluring mole.

My heart clenched violently. A bitter sting flooded my eyes.

So my life and death weren't even worth the time it took to paint Vivian a picture.

All my certainty from before suddenly turned into a blade aimed at my own chest.

I fled the courtyard in humiliation, heading for the peach grove in the back—my favorite spot, where I'd hoped to find some small comfort.

Instead, I found the servants swinging shovels, hacking at the roots of the peach trees.

One worker, hesitating with a saw in hand, asked uncertainly, "Did Mr. Hartwell really order this? I remember—he had these trees shipped all the way from Sovelle City ten years ago, just to make Madam Elena happy."

The head butler scoffed and sneered, "That's ancient history!

"These days, the lady of the Hartwell house is Vivian Gray—the eldest daughter of the Gray family. That has-been from the brothels? She doesn't deserve to set foot in a place this nice, let alone keep it.

"Chop away. Mr. Hartwell and the young master only have eyes for Madam Vivian now."

With that, the peach trees crashed to the ground one by one. Delicate pink blossoms scattered across the dirt, trampled underfoot, ground into dust.

Staring at the ruin before me, decades of memories surged back like a tidal wave, drowning me.

The butler was right.

Nathan loving me—that was a very, very long time ago. Ten years ago, his heart belonged to no one but me. When we first met, he bid on my first night and bought my freedom.

He took on his family's punishment, enduring their opposition, just to marry me.

Back then, he held me close and whispered, "Elena, from now on, I'll never let you be alone again."

For the first five years of our marriage, after I gave birth to Nathan Jr., we were still as in love as ever.

Then the patriarch of the Gray family came looking for me, and I learned the truth: I was the twin sister of Vivian Gray, the famous university professor back home.

She cried and apologized, saying it was her fault that I'd been separated from our family all those years ago. And to make up for it, she insisted on moving into the Hartwell house to help care for and educate my son.

And she lived up to her reputation as the only female professor at Sovelle University.

Within two weeks, Nathan's gaze was glued to her.

Our private conversations—once filled with the small, ordinary details of our life—became nothing but Vivian this, Vivian that.

He'd always say, "If you'd never ended up in the nightlife scene, would you have been like your sister—brilliant, accomplished, captivating?"

Even my son, Nathan Jr., began to pull away. The clingy little boy I once knew turned into a cold, distant young man.

He even forbade me from picking him up at school anymore, because my background had made him a laughingstock among his classmates.

Back then, I swallowed the bitterness and told myself they were just protecting their pride.

But then, on my birthday, I found Vivian—disheveled and half-dressed—curled up in Nathan's arms.

And I knew.

Everything had changed.