Scared to Death, Mr. Vance? I'm Back From the Dead

My daughter was accused of stealing at school. When I rushed to the principal's office, I realized the boy who had framed her was my ex-husband's son. A cold sneer formed in my heart. This scene was a carbon copy of how my ex-husband had set me up five years ago. Except, my ex-husband was infinitely more vicious. The teacher froze, looking between us. "Do you two parents know each other?" I spoke calmly: "Yes. I'm his ex-wife." The ex-wife whom her own husband had personally committed to a psychiatric asylum. The one whose face he had ruined. The one everyone believed was a raving lunatic. Seven years ago, I was the true, sole heiress of the Vance empire. Later, a woman who got plastic surgery to look exactly like me stole my identity, my husband, and my son. She murdered my entire family, and Christian Vance, fully knowing the truth, locked me away in an asylum with his own hands. He had said, "Chloe needs your face to live her life. You don't." And so, he destroyed my face. Now, he stood before me, his eyes swimming with guilt. "Does your scar... still hurt?" I pushed him away. "None of your business, Mr. Vance." The teacher pointed to a leather wallet on the desk. "The two children got into a fight over this wallet." "Leo claims your daughter stole it from him." I pulled Lily into my arms, making sure she wasn't hurt, before my eyes drifted to the wallet on the desk. I had bought that wallet for my daughter. I had personally embroidered a little green frog on it. Back when I was still trapped in the Vance estate with nothing to do, I used to embroider those little green frogs all over my son's clothes. My son, who wasn't even three at the time, would always cry in disgust and turn to bury himself in that other woman's embrace. Yet now, he was framing my daughter for theft just to snatch this little frog. My heart ached for the collateral damage my daughter had suffered. I took her hand, ready to leave. Just as we reached the door, Christian's voice cut through the silence behind me. "Evelyn, let's have dinner together." "Leo hit your daughter. By all accounts of decency, I should treat you to a meal to apologize." I didn't stop. I reached out, opened the office door, my voice completely detached and cold. "No need, Mr. Vance." The "accounts of decency" he spoke of had always cost me too much. First, it cost me my love. Then, it cost me my face. Now, what else did he want from me? I stepped out of the room. From the corner of my eye, I saw the little boy quietly wiping away his tears, softly whimpering, "Mommy..." under his breath. The door clicked shut behind me, and the freezing, crisp air hit my face. The school was in the suburbs, and it was nearly impossible to get an Uber at this hour. I looked at my electric scooter, which had been ruined by the downpour, and sighed softly to my daughter. "Looks like we're walking home today, sweetie." Lily didn't mind at all. She even took off her little jacket and draped it over my shoulders. We ran all the way to Times Square. On the giant LED billboard overhead, a commercial featuring a woman was playing on a loop. She was a top supermodel. Not only was she highly successful, but she was also married to the city's most prominent billionaire, Christian Vance, and had a sweet, adorable son. Looking at the screen, Lily gritted her teeth. "What a bad woman." I smoothed her furrowed brows, finding it a bit amusing. "She looks exactly like me. If you curse her, aren't you cursing your own mom?" "It's not the same." Lily gently reached up, her small fingers tracing the hideous, jagged scar on my left cheek. "It's different. She stole your face, took everything that belonged to you. She deserves to be cursed." My eyelashes fluttered. Ever since I adopted Lily, I had never spoken about my past. No one knew that I was the real heiress of the Vance family. And no one knew that the pure, elegant supermodel on the screen was actually a high-school dropout, a cheap escort who used to fly across the country for a thousand bucks. Lily looked into my eyes and asked a question she had been keeping in her heart for a very long time. "Mom, why don't you expose them?" "There must be other people in the Vance family. They can't all tolerate a fraud like Chloe."I stood up calmly and continued walking toward our apartment. Lily didn't know. Seven years ago, everyone in the Vance family had died. I was the only one left. My father, mother, older brother, and even Mrs. Gable and Mr. Henderson, the nanny and butler who had watched me grow up, were all buried at the bottom of the ocean. The fish had long since picked their bones clean. To clear the path for Chloe, everyone who could prove my identity had been wiped out. After escaping from that basement, I couldn't even build gravestones for them. I could only stand by the shore and pour glasses of white wine into the waves. Back then, Chloe had already been living as the Vance heiress for six months. She was loud, flashy, and arrogant. Using my identity, she checked into luxury hotels with Christian. Shipments of adult toys were delivered to the Vance estate one after another. And she handed over the company my father had spent his entire life building to Christian on a silver platter. The media was flooded with reports of their deeply romantic marriage. Meanwhile, I was shivering in a cheap, damp rented room, unable to sleep night after night. My dreams were filled with the bloated, pale faces of my parents drowning in the ocean, reaching their hands out to me, begging me to save them. Seven years ago, I was too young, too impulsive, and too reckless. During the corporate acquisition signing ceremony, I broke in with a crowd of reporters. I screamed like a madwoman. I tried desperately to prove that I was the real Evelyn Vance. The media pointed their cameras at me. Amidst the blinding flashes, I saw Christian let out a soft, amused chuckle. He took a step forward, shielding the imposter behind him. His voice cut through the chaotic room, cold and merciless. "I don't know this woman. My wife will only ever be the one I recognize." Even my one-year-old son, who was held by the imposter, cried out in fear as I tried to approach. "Mommy, that scary lady is copying your face. I'm scared..." While I stood there frozen, Chloe lifted her face, a face identical to mine, and smiled triumphantly as she hugged my son tight. She had won. She stole my child, my husband, and my entire life. She became the sole Vance heiress. And I became a lunatic who was obsessed with marrying rich through extreme plastic surgery. In the end, the farce ended with the police dragging me away. Inside the precinct, I cried hysterically. I kept screaming that Christian had murdered my family and teamed up with an imposter to steal my identity. But no one believes a madwoman. Besides, launching an investigation required evidence. And I had absolutely none. I was locked up for a day. When I was released, Christian's luxury sedan was idling at the gate. A cherry-red ember of a cigarette glowed between his fingers. "Evelyn, you should have realized this sooner." "If I want someone, you can't stop me." "If you had just been obedient, I wouldn't have had Chloe get surgery to look like you. You would still be the Vance heiress, and you would still be my wife." "Get in. Let's go home. You haven't seen Leo in six months. Don't you miss him?" ... "Mom, we're home." Lily's voice pulled me back from the abyss of my memories. I looked at the dark, grimy stairwell and walked up, completely used to it by now. Compared to the past, my life now was heaven. After Christian dragged me back to the Vance estate, I became Chloe's literal shadow. Whenever there were business dinners she didn't want to attend, Christian would drag me along to drink with his investors. Whenever there were charity galas she found boring, Christian would bring me to act as a silent, beautiful doll. During those two years, I reached out to so many people, trying to tell them the truth. The board directors of the old Vance Group, my childhood best friend, my college juniors who went into journalism... I contacted everyone I could think of. I wept, poured my heart out, and begged them to go to the police with me to rip off Christian's hypocritical mask. But all of them looked at me with pity and concern. They didn't believe me. To them, my constant resistance was just a symptom of severe schizophrenia. My best friend ended up personally handing me back to Christian, imploring him to find me a better psychiatrist and take good care of me. And just like that, I was officially branded a lunatic. Christian grabbed my hand, slid the wedding band back onto my finger, and smiled gently. "Evelyn, nobody believes you anymore." "In this entire world, only I know your pain and your anger." "Just live peacefully with me from now on. Stop scheming. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life in a padded cell?" I stared at him blankly. Tears rolled down my face and into my mouth, leaving a bitter, salty taste. After that, whenever I wasn't needed as a double, I was locked away in a secluded suburban villa under the watchful eye of the butler. I could only sit in the empty backyard, staring blankly at the sky. And during those times, Christian would take Chloe on lavish honeymoons. Their private jet would soar right over my head, leaving sharp, mocking white streaks across the blue sky. Christian once asked me, Don't you miss Leo? Back then, I couldn't give him an answer. But now, I could tell him with absolute certainty. No. I don't.I held Lily's hand as we walked up the stairs, step by step. On the top floor, the tiny apartment with the leaking ceiling was my home. But tonight, two figures, one tall and one short, were waiting at my door. Seeing me, Christian immediately stubbed out his cigarette under his shoe. He knew I hated the smell of smoke. Back when we were together, he never cared. I didn't expect that after five years, he would suddenly remember. "Evelyn... have you really been living in a place like this all these years?" I walked past him calmly. I unlocked the door, walked inside, and immediately took off our wet coats before heading into the kitchen to make some hot cocoa. The apartment was tiny. With two extra people standing at the threshold, it felt suffocating. Lily stood like a little guard at the doorway, glaring viciously at the father and son, refusing to let them take a single step inside. Her gaze was filled with pure, unadulterated hostility. I didn't know how much of my past she truly understood. I didn't know how much her little heart ached for me. But I knew I didn't want a seven-year-old child's eyes to be consumed by hatred. I ruffled Lily's hair, handed her a warm mug of cocoa, and told her to drink up. Then, I looked up at the two people at the door, my tone completely indifferent. "Mr. Vance, please leave." "I won't press charges against your son for stealing my daughter's wallet. Just keep a leash on him, and make sure he never bothers my daughter again." Hearing the words "your son," the little boy's eyes instantly welled up with tears. He hung his head, trying to hide his crying face from me. I saw it. But my hand still gripped the doorknob, preparing to close the door. Christian reached out, blocking the door frame. His gaze locked onto the horrific, jagged scar on my left cheek. Suddenly, he whispered, "Evelyn... are you refusing to let me in because you still hate me?" Hate him? Seven years ago, the Evelyn who had just escaped the basement hated him to the bone. Five years ago, the Evelyn whose face was personally slashed by Christian hated him so much her eyes turned red with blood. But now, five years of quiet obscurity had washed everything away. Time had numbed the pain. I realized I didn't even hate him anymore. To me, Christian Vance was nothing more than a stranger. Seeing the utter coldness in my eyes, Christian's own eyes turned red. He bowed his head, his voice trembling. "Evelyn... how can you not even hate me..." After escaping the basement, I played Chloe's double for two years. By then, I had already gone completely numb. But Chloe wasn't satisfied. To her, the fact that Christian brought me gifts every time he returned from a trip, and the fact that he would sit silently with me for hours on my birthday, was an insult. She tolerated it for two years before she snapped. She drove out to the suburban villa, came to my room, and with a sweet smile, told me a devastating truth. She said, "When you were locked in that basement, Evelyn, your parents were actually still alive." She said she used my face to lure them onto a yacht, promising them a cruise, and took them out to international waters. She said, "Evelyn, you have no idea how hilarious their faces looked when I pushed them into the ocean." "Even as they drowned, they died believing that you were the one who murdered them." It took a long time for those words to register in my brain. And then, my dead heart began to throb with an agonizing, suffocating pain. I remembered when I first learned to ride a bike. My dad had canceled a multi-million-dollar board meeting just to hold the back of my seat, running alongside me to make sure I didn't fall. My mom had stood by with her camera, filming my clumsy progress, and when I eventually tumbled, she had rushed over to wrap me in her warm embrace, kissing my scraped knees. All those precious memories flashed before my eyes. I completely snapped. I grabbed the fruit knife on the table and lunged at Chloe like a feral beast. But she was prepared. She immediately ran out the door, throwing herself behind Christian, trembling and sobbing hysterically. "Christian, she's trying to kill me!" "What... what did I do wrong...?" Christian easily disarmed me, pinning my arms behind my back, his eyes completely devoid of warmth. "Evelyn, do you want to go back to the asylum?" He ordered the guards to lock me in my room while he stayed outside, softly comforting Chloe. My eyes were red with fury. I broke free, grabbed the knife from the floor, and swung it wildly at Chloe. Blood splattered across my face. Christian had stepped in to shield Chloe. I had sliced clean through his pinky finger, and blood was gushing out. I ran. That afternoon, many people saw a blood-drenched woman running through the streets in sheer terror. Later, Christian personally committed me to a high-security private asylum. He had lost his pinky finger, but he used a blade to destroy my face in return. "Evelyn, you shouldn't have run that day." "People saw two Evelyns, one tending to me in the hospital, and one running like a maniac on the streets." "Chloe needs that face to survive. You don't." "Once your face heals, I'll bring you back to the estate."I spent nearly a year in that asylum. I was forced to take heavy sedatives every day. If I resisted, I was subjected to "special therapy." My mind became foggy and detached. Oddly, Christian's attitude toward me softened. I would often sit blankly in his lap, staring at the faint, white ring mark on my right ring finger. From the age of eighteen to twenty-eight, for ten whole years, I had worn the exact same ring on that finger. Nobody knew. But Christian was someone I had rescued from the streets. He was an illegitimate child of the Vance family. At thirteen, homeless and starving, he had knelt before me, begging for nothing more than a dry place to sleep. My mother took pity on him and took him in. He became my playmate, and my most loyal dog. If anyone bullied me, he was always the first to beat them to their knees, forcing them to cry and apologize to me. When I was kidnapped by my father's business rivals, he had tracked me down with a blood-stained knife, his eyes filled with a terrifying, desperate fear of losing me. On my eighteenth birthday, he gave me a ring. It was a promise, but it was also a tracking device. My kidnapping had left him severely paranoid for years, leading him to personally design that tracker ring. My brother had jokingly slapped him on the back. "Christian, you're so possessive. Aren't you afraid my sister will get bored of you and find a more obedient boy?" No one expected those careless words to come true. Except, the one who got bored and strayed was Christian. The man who once swore he would die for me had fallen for a cheap escort when I was twenty-five. And for her, he had slaughtered my entire family. I had cried, screamed, and fought. I tried every single way to escape. But in the end, Christian had effortlessly crushed every attempt. The pain of my face being sliced open had been so deep, so agonizing. But as the keloid scar formed and hardened, I stopped feeling anything at all. I looked at Christian standing outside my door. He kept his head lowered, just like his son, hiding his red, tearful eyes. I saw it. But I didn't care anymore. I called out to him. "Christian. Let it go." "Whether you regret it or feel guilty, it doesn't matter. We can never go back to how we were." Holding the doorknob, I shut the door, locking them both out in the cold. The rain was pouring harder now, soaking through the thin walls. The sound of water dripping echoed from the kitchen. Lily quietly handed me a mug of hot cocoa. Seeing the water pooling on the floor, she let out a small, excited gasp. "Mom, it's raining again! Does that mean Mr. Julian is coming over?" Julian. My persistent suitor. He was a quiet, powerful, and incredibly kind man who always appeared whenever I needed help, expecting absolutely nothing in return. Sometimes, when I couldn't make it to pick Lily up from school, his luxury Rolls-Royce Cullinan would already be waiting downstairs. In front of me, he was always gentle and soft-spoken. But Lily told me she had once seen him barking orders at his subordinates outside, looking so terrifyingly regal that no one dared to breathe. Sure enough, a knock sounded at the door. Julian walked in, carrying a toolbox, preparing to fix the leak as usual. But a hand violently grabbed his shoulder. Christian, his face pale as death, pointed at Julian and demanded in disbelief, "Evelyn! Who is he?!"