Chapter 5

“Grace, I proofread the contract again. Three clauses weren’t translated accurately, so I highlighted them.”

I placed the file on Grace’s desk.

She flipped through it, her eyebrows rising higher and higher.

“You understand contract law too?”

“I used to do business translation. I’ve seen quite a few contracts.”

“No wonder none of your clients ever send your work back.”

Grace closed the file, removed her glasses, and looked me up and down.

Noah was a year and three months old.

I had carried him on my back to the agency to deliver the work. He was chewing on a teething biscuit, drooling down my entire back.

“You should become my partner,” Grace said suddenly.

“What?”

“Don’t pretend you don’t understand. I ran the numbers. Since you joined us last year, the agency’s clients have increased by two and a half times. That Japanese company specifically asks for you. They refuse to work with anyone else.”

I was silent for several seconds.

“I don’t have any capital.”

“You contribute your skills, and I’ll contribute the money. The shares will be split thirty-seventy. You get thirty, I get seventy. After two years, we’ll change it to forty-sixty.”

“Aren’t you afraid I’m a fraud?”

Grace snorted. “What could a single mother who clawed her way out of a tiny rented room possibly scam me out of? This broken little agency?”

Noah babbled twice on my back.

Grace handed him a new biscuit.

“It’s settled. Come sign the contract next Monday.”

That was when everything began to change.

The agency expanded quickly.

Grace handled our old clients while I developed new business. Contracts from Japanese, Korean, and French companies came in one after another.

During our busiest month, we completed forty contracts. Our team grew from two people to eight.

When Noah turned two, we moved into a real apartment.

Two bedrooms, one living room, southern exposure, plenty of sunlight, and a kindergarten downstairs.

After Mia graduated, she didn’t look for another job. She came straight to the agency to handle administrative work.

Whenever she carried Noah around the office, he called her “Auntie Mia.”

I thought our lives would continue like that.

They didn’t.

When Noah was two years and four months old, I took him to the mall to buy winter clothes.

A woman suddenly blocked my path outside the children’s fitting rooms.

Margaret.

She looked older. Her hair had turned much whiter, but her eyes were still the same—sharp, cold, and assessing.

Sophie stood behind her.

She had changed too.

She was wearing a slightly worn sweater. Her makeup was much lighter, and the sweetness that had once clung to her seemed to have faded. In its place was a tiredness I couldn’t quite describe.

“Claire?” Sophie spoke first, her tone almost ingratiating. “Is that really you? Do you live around here now?”

Margaret’s gaze fell directly on Noah.

I held him in my arms. He stared back at her with bright, dark eyes, completely unafraid of strangers.

“Is this the baby?” Margaret reached toward his face.

I moved aside.

“Mrs. Carter, what do you want?”

“Claire, Ethan is in the hospital.”

My hand paused.

Sophie spoke up beside her.

“It’s something wrong with his brain. He started having terrible headaches last month. The tests found a hematoma inside his skull. It was left over from the car accident and had been pressing against his brain all this time. The doctors say he needs surgery, but the risks are very high—”

“Why are you telling me this?”

Margaret took a deep breath. Her lips visibly trembled.

“He remembered.”