I looked down to see Candice standing in front of me. She wore a pink dress that made her look like a little princess. 

“Mommy Yvonne told me to tell you that it’s time to cut the cake,” she said coldly as if she were talking to a stranger. 

“Thank you for letting me know.” I knelt, hoping to get closer. 

However, she immediately took a step back. 

“Mommy Yvonne said you must stand far away and not ruin today’s mood.” 

My heart ached at the fact that my five-year-old daughter was repeating another woman’s venom as if it were gospel. 

I whispered, “Candice, I just want to tell you…” 

“I don’t want to hear it!” she said, interrupting me, her little face full of impatience. “You always make Mommy Yvonne unhappy. I hate you!” 

After saying that, she turned and ran away, shouting, “Mommy Yvonne! Mommy Yvonne!” 

“Poor Kathleen, even her own daughter doesn’t want her,” someone nearby whispered. 

“Well, she’s always busy with work. Yvonne is so much better. She’s always there for the child.” 

My hand holding the champagne glass trembled slightly. It was not because of the gossip but because of what Candice had said. 

“I hate you!” 

That was my daughter—the daughter I carried for nine months and gave birth to—and she said she hated me. 

I stood in the crowd like an outsider, watching it all unfold. My husband, my daughter, and my family all revolved around Yvonne, while I was the one who did not belong. 

My mom approached me and said, “What a touching moment. Look how much Candice adores Yve. Kathleen, you should reflect on yourself.” 

My dad joined us, too. “That’s right. Kids don’t lie. If Candice chooses Yve, it means she really is the better mother.” 

I did not say anything. 

What was there to say? In their eyes, I was always in the wrong. 

After the party ended, I left alone. No one noticed my departure as they were all busy congratulating the happy couple-to-be. 

When I got home, I went straight to my study. 

I called for the attending nurse who had been with me. “Annie, I need a favor.” 

“Yes, Mrs. Liddell?” 

I handed her a USB drive and said, “This contains some videos and recordings. Send them to Bowen tomorrow morning at eight o’clock sharp.” 

“What is this—” 

“Some truths. Someone should at least hear a dead woman’s last words.” I smiled weakly. 

I took out several letters. “This one is for my parents, and this one is for Candice—give it to her when she turns 18.” 

“Mrs. Liddell…” Annie was already sobbing. 

I opened the safe and pulled out a small box. “One last thing… This is my mother’s ring—the real one. Keep it for Candice and tell her that I’ll always love her.” 

After arranging everything, I leaned back in my chair, completely drained of strength. 

Outside the window, fireworks lit up the sky, celebrating Bowen and Yvonne’s engagement. 

How ironic that I would spend the last night of my life watching their happiness unfold. 

“Just a few more hours, Kathleen,” I told myself. “Hold on.” 

I knew everything would change when the truth came to light the next day. However, I would not be there to see it. 

This was my revenge—betting my life to make them live in regret forever. 

I closed my eyes and whispered, “Good night, my loved ones. May you remember for the rest of your lives that there was once a foolish woman who loved you like her life depended on it.” 

… 

At 6 a.m., Kathleen’s heart stopped beating. Annie sat by the bed, tears streaming down her face. She held Kathleen’s cold hand, looking at this once-proud woman who now lay there peacefully, with a hint of relief on her face. 

At precisely 8 a.m., she dialed Bowen’s number. 

“Hello?” a tired voice from the other end said. 

“Mr. Liddell, I’m Annie, Mrs. Liddell’s attending nurse. M—Mrs. Liddell has passed away.” 

The phone fell into a long silence. 

“What did you say?” Bowen’s voice suddenly became sharp. “That’s impossible! She was at the party last night.”