Margaret Miller, my mother-in-law, stood in the middle of the living room, hands on her hips, barking orders at the servants.
“Do everything properly! Emily is coming for dinner tonight. If anything goes wrong, you’re all fired!”
She turned and saw me awake, her face immediately twisting into disdain.
“What a jinx. Of all times to wake up, you had to do it before Emily’s arrival. How unlucky!”
I clutched the sofa to stand, my body unbearably weak.
“Mom, why is Emily… coming here?”
Margaret rolled her eyes.
“Emily is Jason’s childhood sweetheart. She came back from overseas—what’s wrong with having her for dinner? Unlike you, clinging to the title of Mrs. Miller yet failing to give us a single child. And you dare ask?”
Her sharp, cruel words—I had endured them for three years.
I glanced down at my wrist. The number “3” had faded even further.
I knew I was running out of time.
The doorbell rang. Margaret instantly beamed and rushed to open it.
Emily stood there in a pure white dress, sweet and innocent. Around her neck gleamed the diamond necklace from the receipt I’d seen yesterday.
“Auntie, I’m here,” she greeted brightly.