I Worked 18 Years for His Son, He Pushed Me Off a Roof for Her Chapter 02

I Worked 18 Years for His Son, He Pushed Me Off a Roof for Her Chapter 02

Julian wasn’t dead. I knew it.

The whole funeral was a setup — he and Fiona had planned it together, all to dump their kid on me.

In my last life, I bled myself dry for nearly two decades to raise that child — and died with nothing but rage left in me.

And they stepped over my body and played happy family.

Not this time. I practically thrust the baby straight into Fiona’s arms.

Every eye in the room was on me when I said,

“I won’t take this child.”

The words hit like a slap. Martha and Arthur went rigid.

Martha pointed an accusing finger in my face, then broke down sobbing.

“Clara, Julian died protecting you — and you can’t even do this one thing for him?”

Arthur’s jaw tightened, his eyes glistening. “Julian put his entire salary into your joint account. He worshipped the ground you walked on. How was that not enough for you?”

“Years of marriage and still no child, and now you won’t even adopt one? We already lost our son. You’re going to take away the only piece of him we have left?”

His tear-filled eyes flicked sideways — a glance at Fiona so quick I almost missed it.

Fiona’s expression barely changed. But I saw her fingers dig into the baby’s arm — hard, deliberate.

The baby threw his head back and screamed, his tiny face going purple.

Fiona gasped. “Clara Vance! He’s an orphan — if you walk away, you’re killing him!”

Her gaze swung to Julian’s portrait on the altar, tears spilling fast.

“His dying wish was for you to raise this baby. Are you really going to spit on his memory?”

“This is your fault!” Martha lunged at me, fists flying, striking whatever she could reach. “You slept in so late — made him drive you. If it weren’t for you, he never would’ve gone past that construction site.”

“He’d still be alive! You got my son killed, and now you’re throwing away the child he chose? You’ve destroyed this family!”

Martha crumpled to the floor, wailing. The relatives shifted uneasily, unable to look away.

“Clara, we know this is sudden. But Julian asked you to do this. Just take the baby.”

“Julian was so generous with you — he literally handed you his life savings as a wedding gift. Don’t let him down now.”

“Arthur and Martha will help. Between all of you, this baby won’t want for anything.”

None of them knew the truth.

Julian’s “entire salary” — that was the story. But the mortgage, car payment, and utilities were astronomical. His income barely covered half. I quietly covered the rest out of my own pocket.

And the housework? A joke. He’d do everything halfway, and I’d redo it all when I got home from overtime.

Then there was his “generous savings.” The money had barely hit my account when Fiona showed up asking for a loan.

“You finally have a real friend — don’t blow it. Just lend it to Fiona. She’s got an emergency.”

Julian wired the entire amount to Fiona himself.

Back then, I thought he was doing it for my sake. I was actually grateful.

The money never really left their pockets. It only passed through mine.

Even the accident itself — Julian was the one who demanded he drive me that morning, the one who chose that exact route.

Falling debris? Please. There was no accident. He staged the whole thing.

Rage surged up before I could swallow it down. “This kid isn’t even adopted — he’s Julian and Fio—”

Martha’s palm cracked against my face before I could get the name out.

She slammed an adoption agreement down on the table.

“My son is dead. Willing or not, this child stays with this family. It’s Julian’s dying wish — and it’s what you owe us.”

My name was already on it. They’d filled it in before the funeral even started.

Static roared through my skull. The room tilted.

“Who the hell gave you the right to forge my signature?!”