Chapter 2

The hall was so quiet you could hear a pin drop.

Even the leading pianist, who'd seen it all in terms of big stages and drama, halted their performance, fighting the temptation to look around due to curiosity. But his eyes still landed on the little girl clinging to Raymond.

Luke rushed over to grab Liberty, "Whose kid are you..."

He didn't get to finish.

Liberty's eyebrows and eyes were almost identical to Margaret's, and her nose was a perfect match for Raymond's. Anyone would think she was Raymond's biological daughter.

Liberty held onto Raymond's waist tightly, refusing to let go. "Daddy, I really am your daughter!" she insisted.

She completely ignored the cold vibe coming from Raymond and pulled out a pink little camera from her small bag. It had a video of her birth.

Raymond tried to avoid looking at the center of the screen because it was too harrowing, but he noticed the date in the corner. It was three years ago.

Doing the math, Raymond realized it lined up with when Margaret had been kicked out four years ago.

Plus, he didn't have the slightest aversion to the child hugging him.

Liberty saw him turn away and sighed, "You don't even know that my mom almost died giving birth to me. By the way, I got this video secretly; don't tell her."

Liberty's pouting face reminded him so much of Margaret.

Raymond's heart softened a bit, and he asked impulsively, "What's your name?"

"My name is Liberty Neville!" she said loudly.

Raymond's whole body shook, his palms got sweaty, and he swallowed hard. "What's your mom's name?"

"Margaret Neville!" Liberty's voice was even louder, showing how proud she was of her mom.

Raymond was stunned, and his throat went dry.

Luke quickly got the hint and started seeing the guests out.

Ten minutes later, the hall was empty.

Liberty sat on the sofa, swinging her legs, holding a cute little teacup, sipping the sweet drink Luke had made for her.

Raymond sat across from her, scrutinizing her.

Even though Raymond had kept Liberty, he was still suspicious of her identity. "You're not even five years old. How did you get on the plane alone?"

Liberty explained honestly, "I used a trick to get a ticket, and on the way, I acted cute, so everyone took good care of me."

The plane's system was a piece of cake for Liberty.

Raymond's expression was unreadable, and he turned to his assistant, Ryan Ross. "Still can't get through?"

Ryan looked troubled and nodded. "Yeah."

Liberty chimed in, "Of course, you can't get through. My mom is probably on her way to catch me now."

"Your mom is coming here?" Raymond's heart suddenly sped up, and he couldn't figure out the mix of emotions he was feeling.

Four years ago, Margaret had limped out of the Seymour Villa wrapped in a tattered sheet, and the scene was still vivid in his mind.

But after that, Margaret had disappeared without a trace.

He had searched all over Crystaland, but Margaret seemed to have vanished into thin air. And now, here she was, with her daughter!

Liberty was oblivious, finishing the last sip. "Delicious!"

Raymond looked at her empty cup. The drink was Margaret's favorite fruit tea.

He looked at Luke, who immediately understood and soon brought out all of Margaret's favorite things.

Liberty's eyes lit up as she dug into the food.

Meanwhile, on the flight to Crystaland, Margaret unconsciously tapped her knee, and the wound on her abdomen throbbed with pain.

Even though four years had passed, the scars still occasionally made their presence known, reminding her of the misery and brutality from back then.

After all this time, she was coming back to the place she swore she'd never return to, and it was slowly coming into view beneath her.

The city still had the same neon lights and bustling energy, but Margaret had changed.

As soon as Margaret got off the plane, she saw a bunch of missed calls from unknown numbers.

She sensed something was up.

Stepping out of the airport, Margaret looked up and saw a tall, very refined man.

She guessed he was the president of the domestic branch.

He saw her too and walked over. "Ms. Neville, I'm Wesley Johnson."

She nodded. "Hello."

Wesley asked, "Ms. Neville, where are you headed? I'll take you."

Margaret thought for a moment and answered, "The Seymour Villa."

Wesley's eyes flickered, but he responded politely.

By the time they got to the Seymour Villa, it was already early morning. But the place was still brightly lit. For the Seymour Family, tonight was going to be a long night.

"Ms. Neville, do you need me to wait for you?" Wesley asked, noticing that Margaret seemed off during the ride.

Margaret shook her head, giving a polite smile. "No need."

After stepping out of the car and turning around, Margaret dropped her facade, and her polite smile instantly vanished.

The sight of iron gate instantly transported her back to that rainy morning four years ago.

Her pleas, explanations, and cries were blurred in the rain, while Raymond's ruthlessness, cruelty, and indifference became clearer through the downpour.

Margaret knew Raymond hated her because he thought her father destroyed his family, so she skipped the phone call, thinking it was useless to communicate with him.

She took a deep breath, suppressing the itching and pain of the scars on her abdomen, and stepped forward, just about to reach out when she heard the sound of a car stopping behind her.

Turning around, she saw a figure in bright red getting out of the back seat.

The person was adjusting her dress, muttering, "Everything was prepared well, but suddenly they cleared the place, saying a child came. I have to see what's going on."

When the person looked up after adjusting her dress, she met Margaret's eyes.

Both she and Margaret were stunned. The woman was Stella.

"Margaret?" Stella almost thought she had seen a ghost, looked around at the dark night, screamed in shock, and swung her handbag at Margaret.

Margaret instinctively raised her hand.

But in a flash, a quicker figure blocked the studded handbag.

"Ms. Brown, isn't this a bit rude?" Wesley questioned in a deep voice, completely shielding Margaret behind him, his hand holding the studded bag turning red from the impact.

Wesley's words brought Stella back to her senses, and she confirmed that the person in front of her was indeed Margaret.

A trace of malice flashed in Stella's eyes. She thought, 'I drove Margaret away once, and I can do it again!'

Margaret lowered her eyes, greeting indifferently, "Ms. Brown, long time no see."

Her indifferent and distant demeanor made it seem like she didn't take Stella seriously.

Feeling her pride challenged, Stella sneered, glanced at Wesley, and deliberately provoked, "I really admire you, Margaret. You seduced Raymond back then, got thrown out half-naked, and now you have the nerve to come back? I'm embarrassed for you."

In the past, Margaret might have flushed and hurriedly defended herself.

But now, she didn't care at all. She pulled out a mocking smile and calmly retorted, "Are you so jealous because you haven't succeeded seducing him yet?"