Chapter 1: Reclaiming Her Life

When Jiang Zaozao opened her eyes again, the transmigrator who had usurped her body was long gone.

All she was left with was a hot-tempered son and a husband who had grown even colder than before.

But before long, even these meager possessions would no longer be hers.

The transmigrator, in a final act of "kindness," had signed the divorce agreement on her behalf. In one month, Jiang Zaozao would be kicked out with absolutely nothing.

Three years ago, the transmigrator had seized her body while she was recovering from childbirth.

Only then did Jiang Zaozao realize she was living inside a novel.

But she wasn't the novel's beloved female lead, nor was she the love-crazed second female lead.

To put it bluntly, she was just a minor character no one noticed.

The System had told her that the transmigrator had entered her body to help her avoid a disaster, look after the child, and mend her marriage.

But the woman had completely ignored the script. Dissatisfied with a quiet life, she was single-mindedly obsessed with stealing the female lead's spotlight.

She never cared about the son's education. The child Jiang Zaozao had suffered so much to bring into the world had been spoiled into an arrogant, unruly brat that no one could control.

As for her husband, Chu Mulin, the transmigrator couldn't be bothered to even acknowledge him.

After all, this wasn't her life. She simply washed her hands of everything, spending her days living like a pampered socialite, eating and drinking to her heart's content while stirring up a mountain of trouble.

Now, she had grown bored of the game. She simply dusted her hands and left, leaving a chaotic mess in her wake.

This time, she didn't just take the temporary abilities she had been granted; she also drained away the last shred of luck Jiang Zaozao had been hiding.

Jiang Zaozao tried to move her limbs, but her vision was a blurred mess.

A flood of information surged into her mind, threatening to crush her.

Just then, a boy in a small suit burst into the room.

The door slammed open as Chu Dongye charged inside.

His goal was clear. He began frantically searching the space between the nightstand and the wardrobe.

After turning the place upside down without finding what he was looking for, he finally turned and glared at Jiang Zaozao, shouting, "Jiang Zaozao! Where's my stuff? Where did you hide it? That was the gift I prepared for Aunt Yaoyao!"

The child who dared to call her by her full name was none other than her own son, Chu Dongye.

Over the years, the transmigrator had completely neglected to discipline him. She never criticized his wrongdoings; instead, she indulged his every whim, even praising his tantrums as signs of "intelligence" and "independence."

She never taught him manners or established any discipline, letting Chu Dongye run wild through the villa.

Worse, he was constantly exposed to her own willful and self-centered behavior.

The child's values had long since been completely warped.

The "Aunt Yaoyao" he mentioned was Song Yao, the female lead of this novel. In the original plot, she was the perfect image of gentleness, kindness, resilience, and intelligence. In reality, she was also the "white moonlight" in Chu Mulin's heart. No matter how hard Jiang Zaozao tried, she could never truly enter his heart.

Jiang Zaozao vaguely remembered that last night, "she" had drunk a little wine. Seeing Chu Dongye crouching in front of the coffee table, tinkering with something with colored paper and glue in hand, his expression focused.

When asked, the child didn't even look up, saying coldly, "I'm making a birthday present for Aunt Yaoyao."

Hearing the name Song Yao, the transmigrator immediately flew into a rage.

She snatched the item from Chu Dongye's hands, tore it to shreds without even looking, and sneered, "Giving her this kind of cheap crap? Don't embarrass yourself."

Then, she grabbed the torn pieces and marched straight to the bathroom. With a flush, she stuffed them all into the toilet and pressed the button.

Jiang Zaozao had originally intended to discipline her son. After all, though the gift was small, the child had put his heart into making it.

She had just stood up, ready to have a proper talk.

But before she could even assume her maternal authority, the young master across from her exploded again.

Chu Dongye suddenly sprang up from the sofa, his small face flushed crimson.

"Jiang Zaozao! I'm asking you!"

He was the child she had carried for ten months, not some wild brat raised by a transmigrator.

So your mother doesn't discipline you, and your father, Chu Mulin, is just a hands-off boss, huh?

Always busy with the company, busy with social engagements, completely ignoring everything at home, not even knowing what kind of person his son has become.

The more she thought about it, the angrier she got. She reached out and grabbed Chu Dongye's ear, tugging it hard.

"I am your mother! How do you talk to your mother? Who taught you such manners?"

To her surprise, Chu Dongye wasn't intimidated at all. Far from admitting his mistake, he raised his leg and kicked Jiang Zaozao.

The toe of his small leather shoe struck her squarely in the bone, sending a numbing pain shooting down her entire leg.

"Let go, now!"

He shouted as he struggled to break free.

"Oh! You're quite the little rebel, aren't you... Ouch! You brat, let go!"

The next second, Jiang Zaozao, who had been exuding confidence and trying to assert her authority, felt a sudden, sharp tug at her scalp.

Chu Dongye had grabbed a thick handful of her hair and yanked it violently, the pain sending stars dancing across her vision.

The clump of hair he tore out was streaked with blood, its jagged roots a gruesome sight.

Chu Dongye, as if driven mad, roared at her, "You're not my real mom! I only want Aunt Yaoyao to be my mom!"

After a few stunned seconds, Jiang Zaozao slowly released her grip.

Without a word, she turned and walked to the carved vanity in the corner of the room.

Her movements were mechanical as she reached out and grabbed a deep blue velvet box inlaid with crushed diamonds.

When she returned to him, she bent down.

"Dongye, Mommy was wrong. I shouldn't have lost your gift."

"Take this. Consider it an apology."

The child needs discipline, but now is not the time.

The most important thing right now is to mend this rift.

Chu Dongye stared at the suddenly gentle Jiang Zaozao, his eyes filled with bewilderment.

For as long as he could remember, this woman had treated her jewelry like sacred treasures.

Even when he'd tried to take a simple hair clip, she'd snapped at him. Let alone these precious pieces, each worth over a million yuan.

And yet now, she was actually offering him a box?

And she even said it was an apology gift?

He was half-convinced it was a trick, but he didn't dare show it. Instead, he snatched the box from her with a sudden, rough movement and yanked the lid open.

Inside, a butterfly-shaped necklace lay nestled in the velvet.

"You're... really giving this to me?"

His expression betrayed his delight.

Even though he tried his best to hide it, Jiang Zaozao caught that fleeting moment of genuine joy.

"If you don't want it, just say so. Give it back!"

She feigned a grab for the box, deliberately reaching out to snatch it away. She knew that at this moment, she couldn't be too soft, nor too aggressive; she had to walk the fine line between the two.

Chu Dongye immediately clutched the box to his chest and recoiled, swiftly dodging her hand.

"Don't even try it! You said it yourself—this is for me! It's mine now! Nobody's taking it!"

Seeing him accept the gift, Jiang Zaozao finally breathed a sigh of relief.

Good. He's still willing to accept my apology. He hasn't completely shut me out. As long as he was willing to receive it, his heart wasn't entirely closed to her yet.

Click, click, click...

"Mr. Chu, you're back."

Aunt Wang, the housekeeper, stepped forward with a respectful greeting. She bowed slightly as she took the man's discarded suit jacket.

Jiang Zaozao looked up. A tall, imposing man stood in the foyer. He wore a perfectly tailored black trench coat, his shoulders squared, his posture as straight and firm as a pine tree.