The Best Revenge It Wasn't Even Your Child novel Chapter 557

The instant Davis reached out to take Jasper, the boy clung to Catherine’s collar, eyes brimming, teetering on the verge of tears.

“I’ll go,” Catherine said quickly. “Let me settle him first.”

She carried Jasper over to the sofa and rummaged in her bag, producing a small toy car. “Look, your favorite car. Let’s play, sweetheart.” Her voice was gentle, inviting.

She helped Jasper steady himself against the sofa, then moved to the far end of the room. She wound the little car on the carpet, and as she let go, it whirred and skittered toward Jasper with cheerful energy.

Jasper dropped into a squat, landing on his bottom with a soft thump. He scooped up the toy, holding it in both hands, utterly entranced.

Catherine was about to join him for another round when Davis spoke up from behind.

“Lorinda’s always been fearless—she loves deeply, and she isn’t afraid of hatred. She’s spent her life determined to find her family. I know it wasn’t your fault she was separated from us for all those years. But your family. She can’t bear to look at what’s between you now. I think it’s best if you don’t seek her out again.”

Don’t look for her anymore—because Lorinda didn’t want to see her.

The words slammed into Catherine. Her chest tightened, breath catching in painful little gulps. She forced herself upright, inhaling deeply, gaze drifting to Jasper, who was still lost in play with his little car.

A memory surfaced—Catherine and Lorinda as girls, curled up on a narrow bed. Lorinda staring up at the stars through a cracked window, one hand pressed to her empty, rumbling stomach, her voice hushed and full of dreams.

“Do you think maybe I’m a rich man’s daughter? If I hadn’t gone missing, if they hadn’t left me behind… Maybe I’d be living in comfort, with parents who doted on me—maybe I’d be someone’s little princess.”

What Catherine remembered most was the way moonlight pooled over Lorinda’s frail, thin face, her eyes bright and shining with impossible hope. That look—so bright, so painfully pure—still cut through the years. Even now, just the memory of it made Catherine’s heart ache with guilt.

And then silence, tucked safely behind the closed door.

Catherine’s tears spilled over, darkening a patch on her evening dress. She’d never thought it possible—being separated from Lorinda. For more than twenty years, they’d been inseparable; not once had a real fight come between them. When kids at school bullied them for being orphans, they found solace in each other. Growing up, Catherine’s paycheck had stretched to support them both. Once, they’d survived a day on a single bread, laughing together despite the hunger. They’d forged joy from hardship, clinging to each other through every moment, every memory.

She refused to believe Lorinda could simply let all of that go. And yet Davis was right: Lorinda couldn’t turn her back on her family, either. Between Davis, Latonia, and all their expectations, Catherine’s presence would only make things harder for her.

Catherine wiped her eyes, gathered her things, and slipped from the lounge. Crossing the second-floor hallway, she caught a glimpse of the ballroom below.

Lorinda stood radiant in a burgundy gown, her smile luminous, makeup flawless. Latonia was beside her, clinging protectively to her daughter’s shoulders, as if terrified she’d vanish if she let go. The two of them circled the room, graciously fielding congratulations from every guest they passed.