Chapter 3

"Wait a second, are we talking about a married couple here?"

"From the way her mother was talking, I thought Ms. Laurent was the homewrecker."

"Well, a mother gets anxious; it's understandable…"

Upon hearing their comments, I secretly let out a sigh of relief. At least I wouldn't be labeled a homewrecker or a gold digger. My reputation and career were barely intact at this point.

Mom hadn't expected me to defy her publicly. She stood there stunned for a moment, and then, tears abruptly started streaming down her face.

"Monica, you really disappoint me! I saw with my own eyes he entered a hotel with another woman. What more proof do you want? I'm your mother. Why would I lie to you?

"The truth is, you just want to use this as an excuse to get money out of him! Oh, how did I end up raising such an immoral, money-grubbing daughter?"

She collapsed onto the floor, pointing at me in anguish. "If you don't go divorce him today, don't ever call me your mother again!"

Then, clutching her chest, she whimpered weakly, "Ouch… You're going to be the death of me…"

Her performance was flawless as if she had rehearsed it a hundred times. It didn't take her a second to gain the crowd's sympathy.

In reality, Mom was healthy as a horse. She didn't have a heart condition; in fact, she was in such good shape she could probably wrestle a tiger if she had to.

I watched her with great disappointment. This was the "good mother" who claimed everything she did was for my own sake, faking illness just to make me submit.

While I knew her health was perfect, no one else did.

A concerned guest came forward to help her and kindly advised, "Ma'am, don't get so worked up. Let me take you to the hospital."

"No! I'm not going anywhere!"

Mom became even more animated. "Monica, I'm not going to the hospital unless you divorce Trent right away! Let me die right here so I can finally have some peace!"

My head throbbed. "You had a full medical check-up last month. You're not sick—"

"Gosh, I can't live like this anymore!" Mom started slapping her thighs and wailing.

"Your father died young, and I've had to raise you all by myself. You started dating in high school and demanded to go to some expensive private school just to be with a boy. When I couldn't afford the tuition, you threw a fit!"

She continued, "Then you grew up and rejected a stable government job to study art. When I tried to talk sense into you, you ran away from home! I even found you a good, honest husband, but you refused to marry him. Instead, you insisted on marrying for money!

"And now, even after your husband's cheated, you still want to squeeze money out of him… How am I supposed to face your father? I've failed him!"

She cried with such sincerity that everyone saw her as a long-suffering, selfless mother. And in the process, she had turned me into a heartless, money-hungry daughter.

"My God, how can someone treat their mother like that? This is outrageous."

"I wouldn't have wasted my time coming here if I had known she was such a vile person."

"Ma'am, please get up. Your health is more important. Let me take you to the hospital."

"Yeah, don't get worked up over an ungrateful child. It's not worth it."

Even the most well-mannered guests couldn't help but jeer at me.

Some went as far as tearing up my invitation cards and throwing them in the trash, acting as though standing here in this art exhibition would dirty their shoes.

Just then, Mom broke free from the guest's grasp and rushed toward one of my paintings. She pulled out a box cutter and slashed a long gash across the canvas.

"It's these stupid paintings! They're what's ruined my daughter! I'm going to destroy every single one of them!"

She went wild as she cut through my artwork one after another, and all the pieces I had spent years perfecting for this exhibition were ruined just like that.

Not only that, but some people were even cheering her on and saying things like, "That's how you teach your unruly kids a lesson!"

Meanwhile, I stood frozen, shocked by what I was witnessing.

"No! Stop it!" I let out a desperate cry, lunging to grab the box cutter from her hand.

Those paintings were my pride and joy, and each of them was carefully selected for this exhibition. As the canvas tore apart, it felt like my heart was being shredded into pieces as well.

I wrestled the box cutter from Mom's grip, not even noticing the sharp blade had sliced my hand open.

"What do you want from me? Will you only stop if I get a divorce? Will you keep tormenting me until I give in?" I screamed, feeling on the verge of losing my mind.

Blood was dripping from my fingers, but I didn't even feel the pain as I gripped the blade.

Mom didn't even glance at my injury. She nodded firmly. "Yes!"