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Rachel apologized to me and even bought me a bunch of clothes.
Funny enough, I’d known Logan longer than Maggie had.
I used to tutor Logan for a while.
My patience and dedication earned me a good relationship with Rachel.
Maggie met Logan through me.
Seeing the weariness in Rachel’s eyes stirred a twinge of guilt within me.
She had helped me so much, yet here I was, plotting against her son.
But the sting of being stabbed in my past life was unforgettable.
Even a madman must face the consequences, and Logan truly wasn’t a good son.
Rachel had opposed the marriage, but Logan had resorted to self–harm to get his way.
Such actions only lowered him in Rachel’s eyes.
Rachel never had just one option for a son. Logan just assumed he was the only choice, and Maggie did too.
“Lina, I suggest you hand over the house to me, or who knows if today’s events will happen again.” Maggie’s call came,
dripping with malice. She was clearly aware of the day’s events.
I retorted bluntly, “You’re delusional if you think a few words will get you my house.”
This place was prime real estate, worth several times more now than when my parents bought it, around a cool five million. I
was an orphan sitting on a gold mine. No wonder she’d rather see me gone to patch up Vincent’s debts.
Maggie sneered, saying, “Lina, you know the law doesn’t punish the insane for murder, right? Logan only listens to me. Call the cops if you want, but it won’t change anything. I just vented a bit, and who knew he’d go off the rails?”
The veiled threat was blatant.
I mused, “Is robbery this brazen nowadays?”
But she wasn’t wrong; she was a classic case of a lunatic, having nothing left to lose. With Logan as her weapon, Maggie was
fearless.
“Over my dead body will you get that house,” I snapped, ending the call.
I mused, “Doesn’t she realize that a weapon can backfire?”
It was clear I couldn’t stay home, so I moved in with Rachel for the time being.
The Miller family was involved in business.
Rachel had two sons: Logan, who suffered from severe manic episodes, and Barry, who was intellectually challenged.
After Logan was born, Rachel put in most of her effort with him, leaving little for Barry.
But Barry was just slow, not unkind.
“Hello, Ms. Anderson,” Barry greeted me sweetly.
I gave him a hug, asking about his meals, his playtime, and his studies.
He replied steadily, albeit slowly but fluently.
When Rachel returned, I suggested Barry go say hi to his mom. “Mom,” he called, his eyes bright with affection for Rachel, who melted at the sight.
“Thank you for being here, Lina. Barry doesn’t have many friends, and your presence cheers him up,” she said.
After some small talk, I asked, “Where’s Logan?”
At the mention of her troublesome son, Rachel’s hand instinctively went to her temple, a familiar gesture of resignation.
