Pain exploded in my lower back. I gasped, cold sweat beading on my forehead. I stumbled backward, barely catching myself.
Aria didn't move to help. She pulled Lily behind her protectively, glaring at me as if I were the threat.
"Mom, look at what you've done. Even the child can't stand you." Her voice was ice. "Just pay the money."
I looked at the two of them—the daughter I had raised, and the granddaughter I had practically raised again.
I had cleaned their messes. Wiped their tears. When they learned to walk, I hunched over until my spine screamed, guiding their every step. When they babbled their first words, I taught them, patient and tireless. When they refused to eat, I cooked meal after meal until they were full.
And now?
The mother looked at me like a stubborn nuisance. The daughter looked at me like a criminal.
Lily's hostile glare cut deeper than her fists. It triggered a memory—a blizzard three years ago. She had spiked a high fever in the middle of the night, screaming in agony.
The snow had been knee-deep. No cars could move. I wrapped her in my coat and ran three miles to the hospital, my legs turning blue, just to save her life.
Her other grandmother—the one she was defending now—had only shown up the next afternoon. She glanced at Lily, muttered, "Well, she's not dead," and left to play Mahjong.
Yet in Lily's eyes, I was the villain.
The grandmother who sacrificed everything was the thief. The grandmother who did nothing was the victim.
I pressed my hand against my waist. The throbbing pain there matched the ache in my chest perfectly.
I nodded, my expression unreadable.
"Fine. I'll pay."
I pulled out my phone and scanned the QR code. Twenty thousand dollars, transferred to my son-in-law.
Jonathan checked his screen. The moment the notification chimed, his scowl vanished, replaced by a smug, triumphant grin.
Aria let out an exaggerated sigh of relief, immediately hooking her arm through mine. Her voice dripped with sudden, sickly sweetness.
"See, Mom? That's more like it! Let's just put this unpleasantness behind us. From now on, just be more careful, okay? Don't be so impulsive. It really ruins the family harmony."
I sidestepped, letting her hand drop.
I didn't trust myself to speak.
Just then, Aria's phone rang. She answered, and her mother-in-law's voice blared from the speaker.