Chapter 1

My most beloved granddaughter eloped with that blond punk and died along with her unborn child, and I spent my days drowning in tears.

Because of it, I threw that lowlife's spawn into the orphanage.

Yet the little girl held no grudge against me at all; instead, she wrote to me every day to send her respects.

On holidays and festivals she would even give me gifts she had made for me with her own hands.

Everyone said my great-granddaughter was obedient and sensible, that the one to blame was her blond-haired father, not her.

So I let go of the hatred in my heart and planned to hold a family reunion banquet for her on my eightieth birthday, so she could be restored to the family and take her rightful place.

But just as I stood at the gate of the orphanage, ready to take her home, a speeding motorbike came tearing at me and knocked me to the ground.

A girl who looked like a delinquent leapt off the bike and, without asking a single question, slapped me twice across the face.

"You old bag! Can't you watch where you're going?"

"Don't you know I, Louisa Sanchez, have people backing me up? You dare get in my way, and I'll make you sorry!"

I cupped my swollen cheek and looked at the face in front of me, almost exactly like my little granddaughter's, and let out a cold laugh.

"You've got people above you, do you?"

"What a coincidence—there's not a single soul left above me!"

...

Louisa Sanchez froze for a moment, then burst into exaggerated laughter.

"Hahaha! You old fool! Judging by the state of you, your parents must have died ages ago, right?"

"Maybe you even jinxed your grandchildren to death!"

"An old thing that won't die is nothing but a menace—having no one above you isn't the scary part; having no one below you is the real misery!"

Louisa Sanchez's words may have been thoughtless, but they truly stabbed the most painful spot in my heart.

As the great-grandmother of the Sanchez family, the richest family in Northport City, I had ruled the business world my whole life—cutting down any god who stood in my way, any Buddha who dared to block me.

My only heartache was that eighteen years ago, my most beloved granddaughter knelt before me and begged me to let her marry beneath her to a blond boy who rode a souped-up motorbike.

I refused, and she went on a hunger strike, attempted suicide, and even threatened to cut all ties with me.

Having run the household for forty years without ever being defied, I flew into a rage and ordered her locked away at the very top of the attic.

I even swore harsh words: that I would agree to her being with that blond boy only over her dead body!

But I underestimated the power of love.

One rainy night, she ran away, climbing onto that blond punk's motorbike, ready to flee with him to the ends of the earth.

But before they even made it out of the neighborhood, the bike collided head-on with an oncoming truck because of the speed, and both of them were killed on the spot!

To this day I still remember her gripping my hand tightly as she lay dying, touching her belly and begging me to save her child.

She said, "Grandma, I've wronged you, but I was separated from my parents when I was little, and I don't want my child to repeat the same fate."

"I know you hate me, but please, please find reliable parents for the baby."

"I don't ask for great wealth or status, but at the very least, let her feel a mother's and a father's love, whole and complete..."

The tears broke like a dam as I watched, helpless, while my most beloved granddaughter breathed her last in my arms.

And the baby girl she left behind became a thorn in my eye, a splinter in my flesh.

After all, without her, my Sylvie never would have died!

The past came flooding back as I looked at this great-granddaughter I had left in the orphanage for eighteen years.

I raised my hand and slapped her hard across the face.

"Don't you dare speak ill of your mother!"