Seeking Justice for My Son

On my twenty-eighth birthday, there was no cake, no well-wishes—only the pervasive scent of perfume filling the house. Mark Collins led a young woman into the living room while I sat on the sofa, leafing through an old magazine. "Stella, let me introduce you. This is Linda Scott." His voice was flat, as if introducing an ordinary object. I lifted my eyes and discerned the woman's face. She was in her early twenties, with fair skin and deliberately delicate features; a slight swell to her abdomen clearly marked her pregnancy. "Mrs. Collins, hello. I am Linda Scott." She spoke timidly, yet her gaze swept across my face without a trace of fear. I put down the magazine, rose, and smoothed the hem of my cheongsam. "Please, sit down." Mark sat beside Linda, casually draping an arm over her shoulders. "Linda is carrying my child. From now on, she will live here. Please take good care of her." I said nothing but signaled the maid to serve tea. By the household rules, newcomers must offer tea to the principal wife upon entering the home. Linda stood, holding her teacup, and walked toward me step by step. As she approached me, her foot suddenly slipped, and the teacup flew straight toward my hand. Scalding tea splashed onto the back of my hand, and the porcelain shattered on the floor. "Ah!" Linda Scott cried out, staggering backward while clutching her belly. "I'm sorry, Mrs. Collins, I didn't mean to. I'm just feeling a bit dizzy." Mark Collins immediately stood up to support her, his voice full of concern: "Are you alright? Did you get hurt? Are you feeling tired?" He didn't even glance at my burned hand. "I'm alright." Linda Scott leaned against Mark Collins, looking at me with a hint of grievance. "Mrs. Collins, please don't be angry; I truly didn't mean to." I took out a handkerchief and gently wiped the water from the back of my hand, my tone calm: "It's nothing. With pregnancy, feeling heavy is inevitable." Mark sighed with relief, his gaze toward me edged with impatience. "It's good you understand; Linda is pregnant and cannot bear shocks." "Of course, I understand." I turned and walked into the bedroom, retrieving a velvet box. Returning to the living room, I handed the box to Linda. "For your first visit, I wasn't prepared. This diamond bracelet—wear it as you please." Linda Scott's eyes brightened, and she reached out to take it. "Thank you, Mrs. Collins!" Her voice grew noticeably lighter. Mark Collins also wore a satisfied expression. "Stella, you're quite right to think this way." I watched their harmonious exchange, a faint, almost imperceptible cold smile tugging at the corner of my mouth. Linda Scott, Mark Collins, your good days have only just begun.