Tomorrow? I thought bitterly. Clinton, you have no idea. In the past life, after this festival, your daughter was drained of her bone marrow for a transplant. Emerald faked a surgical accident, making everyone believe she died from an allergic reaction. And where were you? Off celebrating Emerald's son's birthday while your daughter turned to ashes.
Do you think I'll let you teach my baby a lesson? Dream on.
Clinton held up a bag of mooncakes and dumped them out in front of me. Some were burnt, others were sticky and gooey. He pointed at the pile with disdain.
"Emerald is just too kind-hearted," he said. "Even after all this, she wanted to send you both a gift."
I broke open a five-nut mooncake. It was filled with walnut and melon seed shells. Disgusted, I crushed the mooncake in my hand.
"Move aside," I said coldly, "I'm going to find Tamara."
Clinton's eyes blazed with anger. "She's just faking it. I specifically told Emerald to teach her a lesson—"
*Slap!*
My hand flew across his face, leaving him momentarily stunned.
"Let's get a divorce," I said, my voice firm. "My daughter has nothing more to do with you."
Clinton blinked in disbelief, then grabbed my arm, his anger returning. "Divorce? Do you think you deserve to divorce me? Look at how you've raised our daughter—she's got no class at all! Spoiled and disrespectful, thanks to your lousy parenting. Emerald would raise her better!"
I thought of how he had pushed me off the balcony in our past life and felt a pang in my heart. How could I have ever loved this man?
"Our daughter has been allergic to nuts since she was little," I said, my voice trembling with fury. "You know that. But you forced her to eat those mooncakes just because Emerald made them. You have no idea—Emerald will kill our daughter, and I need to get to her as soon as possible!"
"Shut up! You're being ridiculous!" Clinton barked, shoving me to the ground. "Overindulgent mothers raise weak children! In our day, we didn't even know what allergies were. And Emerald is a doctor—how could she possibly harm her own child? Her son has been battling leukemia through countless rounds of chemotherapy. An allergy? Please, that's nothing in comparison!"
I hit the doorframe hard, and pain shot through my arm. But I couldn't give up. I had to save my daughter.