"I disagree."
A sharp and aged voice erupted near Amanda Yeats' ears, startling her so much that she jolted upright.
She quickly opened her eyes, trying to figure out what was happening.
What she saw, however, were faces she knew all too well.
Huh?
She was momentarily confused. Had the whole family ended up together in the afterlife?
Her eyes darted around, taking in the familiar courtyard and the young woman holding her closely.
Almost instinctively, she blurted, "Mother."
Her voice—soft, childlike, and a bit high-pitched—took her by surprise. But she couldn't bother to dwell on that now. Her gaze stayed fixed on the young woman in front of her.
Her mother looked so young, so beautiful—nothing like the frail, worn-out figure Amanda remembered before her death.
The young woman looked down at her daughter with a gentle smile. "Amanda's awake."
Amanda's eyes reddened as she clung tightly to her mother, terrified that if she let go, her mother would somehow disappear.
"What's the matter, Amanda?" A caring and steady male voice sounded nearby.
Hearing that familiar voice, Amanda quickly turned around.
Standing there was her father—a serious expression on his face, as always. He was stern yet warm—the person who'd always been her safe harbor.Thinking about her father’s death, Amanda Yeats remembered it was her fault, yet he still smiled and said, “It’s fine, as long as my Amanda is safe, I don’t mind…”
Amanda choked up, calling out, “Father, Mother.”
So this was the afterlife? A place where she could see her father and mother…
Hearing his daughter call him, Nathan Yeats’s stern expression softened without him even realizing it.
But seeing her small, pitiful face, he frowned and asked, “Amanda, do you understand your mistake?”
Amanda nodded quickly, “Yes, Father. Amanda knows she was wrong, really wrong.”
She had never felt regret like this before. It was her actions that had harmed all the people who had loved her.
“Father, Amanda was wrong… Amanda regrets it so much.” Her voice came out small, as if scared that speaking too loudly would shatter the illusion. What if this wasn’t real? What if it was just her imagination after death?
She suppressed her sobs, her gaze clinging to the sight of her parents as if trying to memorize them.
If only it weren’t for her, her father wouldn’t have lost the pharmacy, nor would he have been falsely accused and left crippled. Her mother wouldn’t have suffered through such hard times, only to be poisoned by Grandma Margaret and Gloria Wells, losing her unborn brother and falling into despair until her life ended too soon.
It was all her fault…
Seeing his daughter like this, Nathan’s heart ached. He was about to comfort her when a sharp voice interrupted. "I say, eldest brother, we all know you look down on us most of the time. But no matter how much you do, you should at least listen to Mother’s words once in a while."
The speaker was Gloria Wells, Evelyn Yeats’ sister-in-law, the third daughter-in-law of the Yeats family.
Nathan Yeats frowned and quickly clarified, "Sister-in-law, that’s not true. We’ve never looked down on you."
But no one cared to listen to him. Margaret Yeats, sitting nearby, looked absolutely livid. Her cane struck the floor with a series of sharp, angry thuds.
"Evelyn’s husband, I’ll say it plainly today. This family will never welcome a bastard."
Hearing this, Nathan’s frown deepened, and he tried again to explain, "Mother, Alfie isn’t a bastard. He’s the son of my close friend. My friend’s in trouble, and it’s my duty to take in his child."
"I don’t agree. I’ll never agree to this bastard stepping into the Yeats family’s door."
"Mother..."
Margaret cut him off sharply, her tone even harsher now. "If this boy were your own flesh and blood, I’d shut up and accept it. But he isn’t. You bringing him here just drains this family’s resources. He’s old enough to eat plenty but too late to raise properly. Mark my words, he’ll only turn into an ungrateful ingrate. I absolutely won’t allow it."
Nathan and Evelyn, neither being the confrontational types, found themselves momentarily at a loss for words. Nathan could only plead, "Mother, this child is entrusted by a dear friend. I must take him in."
Hearing this, Margaret Yeats struck her cane on the stone pavement again, the loud thuds echoing in the courtyard.
Her face darkened as she shouted, "Fine, take him in. But we’ll split the family, and you'll leave the Yeats household."
"Mother..." Nathan was shocked and finally understood the true reason for her outburst.
Meanwhile, Amanda Yeats, who had been lost in her sorrow, suddenly widened her eyes at the mention of those words.
"Split the family?" Her little voice cracked as it came out, shrill and shaky.
For a moment, Amanda noticed someone she hadn’t paid attention to earlier: a lean and upright teenage boy standing quietly in the middle of the courtyard. His calm composure somehow unsettled her.
She couldn’t help but pinch her own cheek. "Ow!" she yelped in pain.
Everyone turned to her in confusion, wondering what had gotten into the little girl now.
Margaret’s eyes gleamed, and she let out a dramatic sigh. "Oh, Amanda, look at your parents. They’ve brought back an older brother for you. Guess that means they don’t want you anymore."
Amanda’s mind wandered back to before, when she’d bawled endlessly upon learning her father had brought home this boy.She knew her eldest son doted on this "troublemaker" the most, so she feigned kindness and said, "Oh, poor Amanda, once your father has that bastard, he won't want you anymore."
"Mother, how can you say such things to a child?" Nathan Yeats knew his mother had a sharp tongue, but he hadn't expected her to say something so outrageous in front of the kids.
"What did I say? You unfilial son! You brought a bastard into this house! How do you expect Amanda to feel?"
Nathan opened his mouth to explain, but before he could, Amanda’s crisp voice cut in, “Brother Eli is not a bastard. He’s my brother.”
She spoke with a clarity that was almost startling, her gaze landing on the boy standing in the center of the courtyard. Though pale and thin, his straight posture and refined features gave him a dignified air.
With tears glimmering in her eyes, she still managed a bright smile and said firmly, “I like Brother. From now on, Brother Eli is my family.”
Her words trailed as she looked at the boy—this very boy who, in her previous life, had risked everything to break into the trap-filled Quinn estate just to retrieve her body.
She recalled how he, the person she used to despise the most, had gently and meticulously tidied her appearance, calling her name softly as though she were still alive. He had carefully dressed her in her favorite gown, slipped his late mother’s bracelet onto her wrist, and buried her alongside their parents.She didn’t understand why her soul had always lingered around Brother Samuel, watching as he sent those who had hurt her in the past straight to hell.
The last memory in her mind was of Brother Samuel standing alone in front of her parents’ and her own gravestone, like a lone wolf that had lost its pack.
She didn’t know why she had returned to her five-year-old self.
Whether it was heaven giving her a second chance or just a dream, it didn’t matter.
This time, she wasn’t going to be foolish again.
With that thought, Amanda toddled over to the teenager with her tiny little legs. She looked up and, in her soft, childish voice, said, “Brother Samuel, can you give Amanda a hug?”
As she spoke, she stretched out her chubby little arms, her face full of hope as she gazed at him.
The boy lowered his head and looked at the cute, plump little girl in front of him. Her big, bright eyes were fixed on him, as if he was her whole world.
