Jasmine looked at the nanny in terror and stepped back in fear.
Her words brought back memories of her time in prison.
Back then, freshly incarcerated, she was the target of bullying. People in her cell claimed to lose things, and no one would believe a single word Jasmine said. The others would rip at her clothes, demanding she produce whatever she was accused of stealing.
After watching Jasmine back away holding her child, Lisa had a meaningful look in her eyes.
Ah, Jasmine.
The once heiress of the prestigious Wilson family and the belle of Stanford University in San Francisco.
The former Jasmine was not just a beauty; she was incredibly talented and academically exceptional.
It was said her aptitude was immense, be it in the art of ballet or in her innate skill for piano, surpassing even Lisa, who had also been groomed for success among the elites.
As a prominent socialite from San Francisco, Lisa, the heiress of the Douglas family, always found herself overshadowed by Jasmine.
With an ironic smile, Lisa found herself oddly satisfied.
The once distinguished Jasmine had been the top liberal arts student in San Francisco, who had managed to get into Stanford University, but alas, during the summer of her junior year, she had made a mistake that landed her in prison.
The gardenia who bloomed in the hearts of so many, a fixture in San Francisco's high society, had her future snuffed out before she could even graduate. It was such a waste.
Lisa acknowledged Jasmine's talent, which made it all the more tragic that it had been destroyed.
Now, Jasmine looked more like a beggar on the streets, pitiful and filthy – there was no trace of the prima ballerina who once graced the stage as the Swan Queen.
"Jasmine, didn't you hear me? Take off your clothes. Prove your innocence," Lisa said with vindictive pleasure.
Jasmine didn't answer, curling up even tighter.
"My mom didn't steal your things. Don't bully her," Justin clung to Jasmine, preventing others from harassing her.
"If you won't strip, we'll help you," the nanny gestured to others to assist in undressing Jasmine.
After all, Justin was just a child.
"Don't touch me..." Jasmine's voice was hoarse; the tears streaming down her cheek were scoldingly hot.
"Don't touch me!" Her screams were desperate, pleading for them not to touch her.
Those painful memories would never fade; they were branded deeply onto her very being.
Wasn't it enough? Hadn't she paid her dues?
What more did they want from her before it was over? Did she have to give up her life to end it all?
She could die, but what about her Justin?
She chose to bring him into this world, and she was responsible for him.
She remembered the year Justin was born, how she sat with postpartum depression, cradling her baby on the hospital roof for hours.
She wanted so desperately to leap off with her child in arms - death would have been an escape from Daniel and Evan, who had personally seen her off to prison.
"What is going on here?" A man's displeased voice came from the doorway.
"Sir..." the servant stuttered in panic.
"Daddy!" Casey ran over joyfully.
Lisa was startled and instinctively moved forward, not wanting Jordan Taylor to see Jasmine. "Jordan... what brings you back? Weren't you supposed to be abroad for a month?"
Jordan was not warm to Lisa, replying indifferently, "Your father returned to the country. He asked me to come back tonight to talk about our divorce."
Lisa clasped her hands together, the tension evident in her grip. "Jordan, does it really have to be this extreme?"
Jordan ignored her. He didn't even glance at his son. As he strode to the center of the courtyard, he found his gaze inadvertently drifting towards Jasmine.
The woman cowered in a corner, cradling a child, her form a picture of dishevelment. He didn't recognize her as Jasmine at first sight.
Jordan, Lisa, Daniel, and Zelda had shared classrooms since high school. Lisa and Daniel were twins, and it was the novelty of having twins that had helped their mother rise in the social ranks, capturing the heart of Howard Douglas, the then patriarch of The Douglas Family.
"Jasmine Wilson?" Jordan's voice carried a note of uncertainty.
He knew she had been released from prison and had come back to the country early, partially to learn about Jasmine's whereabouts.
Jasmine didn't look up, continuing to tremble as she held onto Justin.
"Jordan, let's go inside," Lisa urged, her voice tinged with panic as she reached for Jordan's arm.
Jordan shot her a look, his disdain barely concealed.
"Dad, Jasmine is a thief, and so is her son. She stole Mom's necklace, and her kid took my toy," Casey said angrily, hurt that his father was ignoring him.
"I didn't, and neither did my mom!" Justin protested with a mix of defiance and hurt.
Jordan's fingers twitched, and he took deliberate steps toward Jasmine.
She kept her head bowed, burying it even deeper.
"Jasmine?" Jordan crouched in front of her, his call gentle.
His feelings churned with complexity. Was this really the Jasmine he knew? How had she come to be this way? She used to be the unspoken crush of many boys in their class.
"Ah, Jordan's back," Daniel's voice echoed from the doorway, laced with biting sarcasm.
His rage seemed uncontainable, especially upon seeing Jordan crouching in front of Jasmine.
At the sound of Daniel's voice, Jasmine's body shook reflexively.
His voice... how it turned her stomach now.