"This whole mess is a real headache. They’re pressing hard from that side, and Vivian Caldwell is still making a scene, saying she wants to die. If this delays your father’s promotion, then that girl really is the curse of this family, a downright jinx!"
A middle-aged woman’s voice rang out in the room, sharp with irritation and impatience.
Right after that came a young girl’s voice, unable to hide the jealousy and scheming in it. "Mom, once she’s feeling a little better, why not just send her over? Why bother waiting for her to agree? What Director Randolph Miles likes is that fool’s face anyway. We’ll just tell everyone she went willingly. Who’s going to investigate?"
The older woman sounded even more annoyed. She let out a cold snort. "Who knows what’s going on in your father’s head. He insists on hearing her agree to the marriage herself. But that wretched girl just won’t get it, won’t take what’s good for her, and went straight and smashed her head against the wall. That stubborn temper of hers is exactly like her dead mother’s."
The younger girl hesitated a little, then muttered under her breath, "Do you think maybe we scared her too much before? Maybe we went a bit too far?"
As soon as she said it, the room went completely silent. Mother and daughter said nothing more.
Though unconscious, Vivian Caldwell heard every word clearly. Rage rolled up inside her, and in an instant she had the situation figured out. These two had to be the original host’s stepmother and stepsister, dead set on plotting against and trampling the daughter left behind by the first wife.
She had no wish to get tangled up in this sort of ugly family business. All she wanted was to wake up fast and get herself out of here. But her eyelids felt as heavy as lead. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t force them open, and a strange, powerful sense of dread crept up from deep inside her.
Then suddenly, a flood of unfamiliar memories crashed into her mind. Her head throbbed from the force of it, and the whole life of the original Vivian Caldwell spread out before her, from childhood right up to now.
The original host had the exact same name as her. She had been born after the founding of the nation and raised from childhood in a well-off, educated merchant family. Her grandfather, Theodore Caldwell, had been an industrial entrepreneur. Her grandmother, Eleanor Ashford, had been a refined and well-bred lady. Her mother, Serena Caldwell, was the only daughter in the family, and back then she had taken in a live-in son-in-law, Martin Ashton.
Three years ago, her grandparents died one after the other. Then her mother was killed in a car accident. With that, the huge Caldwell family fortune nearly toppled over and almost fell completely into the hands of the live-in son-in-law, Martin Ashton.
But in 1966, once the public-private joint management era ended, all the factories became state-owned. Martin Ashton’s dream of holding power went up in smoke. In the end, he was still stuck in his old line of work, serving as deputy director of the purchasing department.
The Caldwell house and all the money saved up before were under Vivian Caldwell’s name. The Caldwell family also still had some ties with the bank, and only she could withdraw the money. Nobody else could touch it, not even the man who was her father in name.
Not long after Serena Caldwell died, Martin Ashton brought Rosalind Ashton into the house. She came with two children: fifteen-year-old Chloe Ashton and two-year-old Patrick Ashton. To outsiders, he said she was a nanny brought in from their hometown, specially hired to take care of Vivian Caldwell.
At the time, the crackdown on capitalism was in full swing. Hiring a servant at home counted as exploiting the laboring people. If word got out, you’d be criticized in public, maybe even paraded through the streets. Families with servants were all rushing to send them away, and even women who used to live like rich ladies had started cooking and doing housework themselves.
So Martin Ashton used taking care of Vivian Caldwell as an excuse and told everyone the marriage was fake. He even put on a wedding feast just to make it look convincing.
Vivian Caldwell had been slow-minded since childhood. To put it bluntly, she was simple and one-track, always half a beat behind everyone else, and the whole family played her around like a fool. But since all the family property was in her name, and there were still some old retainers of the Caldwell family around, Martin Ashton at least didn’t dare shortchange her in food, clothing, or daily needs.
Rosalind Ashton also didn’t dare bully Vivian Caldwell in front of Martin Ashton. But the moment he stepped out, she’d point at Vivian’s nose and curse her endlessly, while warning her not to tell anyone. She didn’t dare lay hands on her, though. She was afraid of leaving marks and giving others something to latch onto.
Even though Vivian Caldwell was slow, she could still tell good words from bad ones. She just reacted too slowly and didn’t know how to complain to others, so all she could do was bottle it up and stew in silence.
And because of that, Rosalind Ashton and her two children became more and more brazen, treating Vivian Caldwell as if she didn’t matter at all.
Somehow Martin Ashton had managed to build ties with Randolph Miles, chairman of the Dove Tail Committee, and last year he climbed into the position of director of the purchasing department.
Then in 1969, Martin Ashton suddenly said he wanted to marry Vivian Caldwell off to Randolph Miles. That committee chairman was already forty-five, old enough to be her father. Every time Martin Ashton left the house, Rosalind Ashton and Chloe Ashton would start making snide remarks, one after another, painting picture after picture of how miserable her life would be after marriage.
Vivian Caldwell got so furious that she rammed her head straight into the wall. After that, her memory cut off. But now all of those memories had somehow ended up in her own mind. Could it be that she had transmigrated into Vivian Caldwell’s body?
The thought was too absurd. She just wanted to open her eyes and see for herself. But the more she tried, the heavier her eyelids felt.
Then for some reason, they suddenly opened all at once.
Rosalind Ashton, standing opposite her, jumped in fright. At once she plastered a smile on her face. "Vivian, you’re awake at last. You scared me half to death. If anything had happened to you, how could I ever explain it to your mother?"
Maybe she felt smiling wasn’t quite right, because she lowered her head and started wiping at tears.
Vivian Caldwell said flatly, "The corners of your mouth are practically up by your ears."
The acting was awful. Sure, she’d squeezed out a few tears, but from this angle Vivian could clearly see Rosalind Ashton secretly looking pleased.
Rosalind Ashton’s face stiffened on the spot.
Chloe Ashton, standing behind her, immediately jumped out. "My mother’s taken care of you all these years, and this is how you treat her? You really have no conscience. My mom married your dad, so she’s your mother now. Talking to an elder like that—have you got no manners at all?"
Vivian Caldwell’s head hurt so badly it felt like it might split. "This is my house. Your mother is nothing more than a servant my father dragged in from the countryside. Back in the old days she’d have been a maid. And you? You’re just the burden that servant brought along. Since when did the likes of you get to lecture me?"
The words were nasty, sure, but she dared say them because she knew they wouldn’t dare repeat them outside. What Martin Ashton wanted was the Caldwell property. If anything happened to her, nobody would get their hands on any of it. For that reason alone, Martin Ashton would never let such words spread.
Her head was pounding badly. She had no idea how hard she’d slammed into the wall earlier. What if it was a concussion? She needed to get to a hospital and have it checked.
Chloe Ashton was furious. Since childhood, she had envied Vivian Caldwell’s pampered rich-girl life. Later, once she realized Vivian was a bit slow in the head, she’d secretly insulted and bullied her plenty.
But her father cared a great deal about Vivian Caldwell, so Chloe didn’t dare actually hit her. If Vivian ended up with marks on her body, her father would skin Chloe alive.
Rosalind Ashton wiped at her tears and said, "Vivian, if you look down on me as your mother, I won’t blame you. But your father has treasured you like the apple of his eye all these years. Now it’s time for you to show filial piety. You can’t just stand there and watch your father suffer, can you? He has no other choice."
That only made Chloe Ashton angrier. "You’ve been fed and clothed well since you were little. You wear all those fancy dresses whenever you want, pile gold and silver jewelry all over yourself, and Dad’s always holding you and coaxing you. Now it’s your turn to repay him, and what do you do? Smash your head against a wall. After eating his food and using his money all these years, where’s your conscience?"
She had heard her father say that just one outfit on Vivian Caldwell cost over a hundred yuan. Back in the countryside, Chloe’s allowance for an entire year didn’t even add up to a hundred. They were both her father’s children, so why was the difference so huge?
After coming here, her father always put that fool first in everything. Wasn’t she just some orphan whose whole family had died? Giving her a bowl of food should’ve been enough to make her kneel and thank them. Why keep spoiling her? Her father was plainly biased.
The more Chloe Ashton thought about it, the more she wanted to stab Vivian Caldwell a few times with a knife.
Even with her head throbbing, Vivian Caldwell’s tongue stayed sharp. "Can’t help it. I was born lucky. My grandpa, grandma, and parents all loved me. Who knows what wild man your mother slept with to have you?"
Her grandfather was really her maternal grandfather, and her grandmother was really her maternal grandmother. Martin Ashton had married into the family, which meant he was basically a son-in-law the Caldwells had brought in. She was the true bloodline of the Caldwell family, so of course she carried the Caldwell name and called them Grandpa and Grandma.
Chloe Ashton and Patrick Ashton looked more and more like Martin Ashton as they grew. Anyone with eyes could tell what was going on. But Martin Ashton refused to admit it to the death, so everyone else simply pretended not to notice. Only the old Vivian, slow as she was, had never thought that far. The words father unknown were like a poisoned thorn buried deep in Chloe Ashton’s heart. If anyone wanted to set her off, those were the perfect words.
Vivian paused, then went on, "If my Caldwell family hadn’t taken you in, your whole lot would’ve starved to death in the street by now. My family showed you such a huge kindness, and not only are you ungrateful, you still dare stand here pointing fingers at the master of the house. You really are nothing but ungrateful wolves."
Rosalind Ashton had wanted to play the pitiful victim. After all, in front of Martin Ashton, all she ever had to do was shed a few tears and he would immediately take her side, then turn around and scold Vivian Caldwell.
But Vivian Caldwell wasn’t in the mood to waste words with them. She moved first. Smack. A slap landed hard across Rosalind Ashton’s face, and her cheek swelled up at once.
Rosalind Ashton simply could not believe it. That fool had actually dared to hit her?
Chloe Ashton was stunned too. Since when did this idiot know how to fight back?
Vivian Caldwell herself was surprised. She hadn’t expected her natural strength to come over with her too.
Well then, that made things easy. From now on, she wouldn’t need to hold back at all. She had been thinking about finding a chance to run, and maybe dig a trap for Rosalind Ashton and Chloe Ashton on the way. But now it looked like there was no need for all that. Heaven itself was clearly on her side.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
She almost wanted to plant her hands on her hips and laugh at the sky. In times like these, hard fists were the only real truth in the world.
And now, that truth was sitting right in her own hands.