"Scarlett, where did you run off to? I’ve been looking all over for you."

The village chief, his hair already gray at the temples, was sweating so hard he looked genuinely panicked.

"Grandpa Village Chief, I went to pick some wild berries."

He walked over at once and took her soft little hand. "Come on, I’ll take you home. There’s a group of rich folks at your place. Heard they came to bring you and your mom into the city. Your mother’s already packed everything. The whole village has been out searching for you."

"Oh."

The timing lined up exactly.

In her previous life, this was about when the Ashford family had come to take her back too.

When they got home, she didn’t even get a chance to say a word. A man in a black suit and dark sunglasses strode over and shoved her straight into the car.

Sitting beside her was her mother, Rosalind Ashford, her face gentle, her eyes carrying a faint, careful hope.

Afraid Scarlett might be scared, Rosalind pulled her into her arms the moment she got in.

Her voice was soft and lovely, flowing like birdsong. "We’re going back to the Ashford family. Your father is there," Rosalind said honestly.

She had never planned to hide it from her daughter.

She knew her girl had always been far more sensible than most people thought.

It was just that by the time she realized how sensible Scarlett really was, the child had already stopped asking anything about her father.

And somehow, Rosalind could never find the right moment to explain.

Scarlett put on a look of surprise. "Father?"

When she was very little, she had once asked who her father was.

But after seeing her mother cry, she never brought it up again.

"Yes." Rosalind stroked her little head, guilt written all over her face. "It’s all my fault. I should’ve told you sooner."

Scarlett snuggled into her arms and rubbed lightly against her. "Then I forgive you, Mom. Wherever you go, I’ll go too."

Rosalind smiled, soft and warm as ever, but her eyes were full of heartache.

Scarlett should have been like other little girls her age—pouting, acting spoiled, demanding answers from her.

Instead, she was so sensible it hurt to look at her.

Nestled in her mother’s arms, Scarlett Ashford lowered her eyes, the childish softness in them fading away. A sharp glint flashed across the bottom of her gaze.

She had been reborn.

Back to when she was fifteen.

Back to the night before the Ashford family came to take her and her mother away.

Her mother, Rosalind Ashford, and Victor Ashford, the third son of the Ashford family, had been college classmates. The history between them was… messy, to put it lightly.

Long story short, Scarlett had been an accident.

And that so-called father of hers had no idea she even existed.

Now that cheap dad was nowhere to be found, dead or alive, nobody knew.

When the old madam of the Ashford family heard about Scarlett, she insisted on bringing her back. The third branch had been left all alone, and the old woman wanted an heir no matter what.

In her previous life, not long after they returned, her mother’s health started going downhill.

Just one month later, Rosalind was gone.

But now she had been given a second shot. She had come back to a time when her mother was still alive.

So this time, no matter what, she would protect her mother.

As for all those monsters and snakes hiding in human skin... heh, let them come.

*

The car stopped in front of the Ashford residence.

The driver quickly got out and opened the door. “We’re here.”

The mother and daughter stepped out together and looked up at the old estate before them. The mansion was grand in a low-key, old-money kind of way—quiet, elegant, and heavy with the kind of authority that pressed down on people without a word.

Before they could take in much more, a woman in designer clothes and flawless makeup came striding toward them.

She looked all smiles, warm as could be. The moment she reached them, she grabbed Rosalind’s hand like they were long-lost family. Her voice came out syrupy and fake, so affected it sounded like someone was pinching her throat.

“So this must be my third brother’s wife, right? I’m the eldest son’s wife. You can call me your sister-in-law.”

Rosalind was clearly uncomfortable from being tugged so suddenly, but she still forced a soft smile and answered gently, “Hello, Sister-in-law.”

The second she heard that, Natalie Ashford’s smile grew even brighter, as if she’d just reunited with her own little sister.

“My, that floral dress on you is so pretty,” she said, looking Rosalind up and down. “Honestly, you can barely even tell it’s from a street stall.”

And there it was.

The mask came right off.

That sharp, mean, sneering look on her face was completely different from the fake enthusiasm she’d shown a second ago.

She let go of Rosalind’s hand at once, pulled out the handkerchief she carried with her, carefully wiped her fingers, and tossed the cloth aside.

The moment she stepped out of the car, she really did have that rich-young-lady vibe. But once you got a proper look, wow, it was all cheap street stuff from head to toe. Just seeing it felt like a stain on the eyes.

A woman from the mountains, too. Who knew what kind of germs she might be carrying? Gross.

Looks like she’d overthought the whole thing. She was just some ordinary village girl from the hills, only with a prettier face than most.

Scarlett Ashford caught the look, and her round almond eyes narrowed for the briefest second before opening again, as if she hadn’t noticed a thing.

Those bright, rounded eyes curved into crescents, soft and harmless on the surface.

Even her voice came out sugary sweet. "Exactly. And you, this not-so-pretty auntie here—who would’ve guessed that what you’re wearing is actually a custom piece from House Y?"

You dare mock Mom for wearing cheap stuff? Even if she was in street-market clothes, she’d still look better than you. Bet that burns.

Honestly, taking designer and making it look like bargain-bin trash? That was a talent.