Chapter 221: Hitting Mia with a Car
If he hadn’t attempted to ruin her life by telling people she had HIV, Roy wouldn’t have sought revenge, and her face would not have been disfigured.
Although she had shattered the mirror, the image she’d just seen still lingered in her mind.
The doctor told her her face would never be repaired for as long as she lived, and that severe scar would stay with her forever.
She wasn’t the heartthrob anymore, couldn’t revel in admiration, and was no longer the person everyone noticed and adored wherever she appeared.
She couldn’t have anyone she desired anymore. The beauty she’d taken such pride in had vanished! It had all disappeared! She loathed them all!
Yet the person she despised above all was Mia. It was Mia, that bitch. Everything she’d gone through was because of her. James had been in love with her from the start.
Mia had pulled out every possible scheme to take James from her!
If Mia hadn’t won James’s heart and turned his affection away from her, he wouldn’t have behaved toward her like this. He would have continued to treasure her as he once did, never doing anything that might hurt her. It was all Mia’s doing!
She had nothing to her name, not even enough worth to hold her own shoes, so how was it possible that she kept becoming happier and happier?
She thought about the banquet and how James pampered her.
Even when James had granted her favors in the past, he had never stooped for her, never displayed such surrender before everyone.
He cradled Mia as if she were fragile. Why? What claim did Mia have to all of this!
James had wounded her so profoundly. She ought to be wracked with pain, trapped in torment for all her days, endlessly enduring suffering.
Why was she grinning again, so bright and sweet, when Mia had left her completely shattered?
She had lost everything. How could Mia, who was supposed to have nothing, be entitled to happiness!
...
Mia finished work on time. Rather than driving back to Silver Oak Manor, she headed to an office building and rode the elevator up to the 12th floor.
As she opened the door, a sweet fragrance filled the room. It was a baking classroom.
She had enrolled at the last moment, eager to learn how to bake a cake.
James’s birthday was only a week away, and for days he had been subtly hinting at it in every way he could, making sure she wouldn’t forget.
In the four years they had been together, Mia never planned any grand surprises for his birthday, yet she had always remembered it.
According to James, the best birthday gift was her cleansing herself and giving herself to him, which is why she had never gone out of her way to prepare any special gifts for him before.
At most, she would have a spread of his favorite dishes prepared, celebrate the day with him, and then offer herself to him that night as her gift.
This year, James was intentionally dropping reminders, likely because they were no longer husband and wife, not even a couple. It made sense for him to be concerned that she might forget.
In truth, she knew James didn’t truly care about birthdays, but he used them as a way to prove that she still held him in her heart.
That she still remembered him. If he dropped a hint and she didn’t react, he’d get moody, sulking in a way she couldn’t do anything about.
His sulking was somewhat endearing. But how could she possibly forget his birthday?
During this period, James had been completely attentive to her, moving at her pace, never pressuring her, and genuinely treating her with care.
She was no longer the kind of person who accepted his kindness without offering anything in return.
He treated her well, and she wanted to show her appreciation through the little things she could do.
Like baking him a cake herself for his birthday, surprising him. Naturally, Mia was terrible in the kitchen, cooking had always been that way for her.
Now baking cakes was no different. But just as when she had knitted clothes for the baby before, if she took the time to learn carefully, she could still achieve some results.
After numerous attempts, Mia finally succeeded in making a complete cake. It wasn’t perfect—it looked a little rough—but she still had a week to practice and improve.
Time flew by, and before she knew it, James’s birthday had arrived.
Mia took a half-day off, leaving the company early in the afternoon to head to the baking classroom.
Slipping on an apron, she began making the cake as if she knew exactly what she was doing. Once the cake base had taken shape, Mia placed it in the oven.
She stood to the side, waiting silently.
It was just a simple birthday cake, nothing extravagant, but she knew this small surprise she was preparing would surely bring James joy.
She truly enjoyed the way things were between her and James now.
She realized she wasn’t ready to fully trust James or lay her heart completely open, and she had no intention of forcing herself to.
She simply wanted to let things unfold naturally, to follow her heart. Time would reveal the answer. Time had come.
Mia removed the baked cake base and began carefully applying the cream.
Thanks to the past few days of practice and her dedication, the cake gradually took form, turning out far prettier than she had expected.
She gazed at the cake with satisfaction, and amid the teacher’s compliments, carefully packaged it and tied a neat, pretty bow.
After bidding the teacher farewell, she gathered the cake and left the baking classroom.
With over an hour still remaining in the workday, Mia’s chosen baking classroom was just a short distance from Silver Oak Manor.
She carried the cake with care, walking home. After more than ten minutes, Mia appeared at the corner near Silver Oak Manor.
As she walked, she was so focused on protecting the cake that she didn’t notice the danger coming toward her.
Across the street, a black sedan lingered quietly. Inside, Amelia’s scarred face was tense as she gripped the wheel, eyes fixed on the path ahead.
The instant Mia came into view, her stunning face and the joyful smile lighting up her eyes and brow caught Amelia’s attention, anyone passing by, man or woman, couldn’t help but glance at her a few extra times.
A few men even looked at her with admiration. She had always received those kinds of looks. While she might have dismissed them, deep down, she enjoyed the attention.
But now… watching Mia still draw those glances, Amelia slowly lifted her hand to her own face, the one that had just had its stitches removed that morning.
The scar slithered across her face, ugly and jagged like a crawling centipede.
After leaving the hospital, she had passed by several men whose eyes reflected nothing but horror and repulsion at the sight of her face.
Amelia’s face contorted, her eyes darkening with malice and madness. She slammed the accelerator and drove straight toward Mia—