No Longer Your Shadow

I've accidentally worn a dress belonging to my deceased older sister, Gwendolyn Stokes, to a family banquet.

Because of that, my husband, Thomas Torres, goes quiet with fury. He then sentences me to a punishment of kneeling in the snow for three long hours.

The blizzard chills me to the bone. My son, Robin Torres, makes fun of me while hurling snowballs at me.

"No matter how much you dress up, you'll always be a phony! Don't think you can go around replacing my mommy just because you've changed into her dress!"

As I stare at Robin's face, which bears some resemblance with mine, I feel my heart breaking.

He has no idea that I'm his actual mother.

On the year Gwendolyn passed away, Thomas, who drank himself into a stupor, mistook me for her. That night, he kept moaning Gwendolyn's name and whispering sweet nothings to me. That was how I got pregnant with Robin.

Thomas has forbidden me from telling anyone the truth. On the other hand, I can't bear to leave my own child alone. So, I beg Thomas repeatedly to let me stay in the Torres residence.

During my stay here, Thomas gives me the cold shoulder all the time. Only when he needs to vent his desire does he seek me out.

What I didn't expect is that Robin hates my guts as well. Not only does he keep pulling pranks on me from time to time, but he also curses at me.

"Shameless women like you have no right to stay in my home! Once I grow up, I'll definitely kick you out!"

Now, I can finally respond to him.

"Oh, I don't have to wait for you to grow up at all."

Tomorrow, I'll pack my things and leave. I no longer want to remain as someone else's replacement and continue living a life of humiliation.

This time, I'm going to pursue a life of my own.

Winnie's Point-of-View

During a family banquet, my dress was slashed by my husband's mistress, Erica Glover.

She acted surprised, and though she apologized, the mockery in her eyes was unmistakable. "I'm so sorry, Winnie. It was an accident. Maybe you should change into something else."

Biting my lip, I rushed back to my room and threw on the first dress on the top shelf of the wardrobe.

It never crossed my mind that the dress belonged to my deceased sister, Gwendolyn Stokes, since I had never seen it.

My husband, the usually composed, stone-faced CEO of Torres Group, Thomas Torres, completely lost it the moment he saw that dress.

I was forced to change out of Gwendolyn's dress before being made to kneel in the snow for three hours straight, in nothing but my torn, ruined dress.

The heavy snow was bone-chilling, making it hard to even breathe.

After what felt like an eternity, a child's soft voice reached my ears. "Who said you could wear my mom's dress? You deserve to freeze to death!"

I