The original “Whitaker Scarlett” had died for reasons unknown, and now, 30 years later, Whitaker Scarlett woke up in this body. The scattered, chaotic memories she received in her dreams were disjointed, yet they left her feeling deeply empathetic.
Creak.
The door opened, and a frail, dark-skinned woman with a haggard appearance entered, carrying a chipped enamel mug.
“Scarlett, I steamed an egg for you. Eat it while it’s hot,” the woman said.
She moved cautiously, with a demeanor that was almost servile. This woman was Whitaker Scarlett’s mother, Elizabeth.
Whitaker Scarlett opened her mouth but couldn’t bring herself to call her “Mom.”
She didn’t know how to approach Elizabeth. From the memories, the original “Whitaker Scarlett” had treated her mother harshly. Should she continue being an ungrateful daughter? Or claim that she had hurt her head in the accident and take this opportunity to turn over a new leaf and be a good daughter?
While she was still hesitating, the half-closed door was suddenly flung open with force.
A group of people barged into the room. Leading them was Scarlett’s grandmother, accompanied by Elizabeth’s two sisters-in-law and several grandchildren. Their aggressive demeanor left no doubt about their intentions.
Scarlett’s grandmother, with her high cheekbones and blazing eyes, snatched the enamel mug from Elizabeth’s hands and shoved her to the ground.
“You gave birth to a shameless little tramp who’s ruined the Whitaker family’s reputation, and now you dare to steal eggs from the house to feed her? She pretends to act pitiful, hitting her head as if that would scare me! If she wants to die, let her jump in the river—hitting her head is useless!”
Her words were laced with venom, devoid of any affection one might expect from a grandmother. She sounded more like Scarlett’s sworn enemy.
Elizabeth crawled to the old woman’s feet, clutching at her mother-in-law’s pants and refusing to let go.
“Mother, the child just woke up. Please, give her a chance to live…”
Whitaker Scarlett felt a tight knot in her chest.
She hadn’t been able to bring herself to call Elizabeth “Mom,” but here was this woman kneeling on the ground, begging for her sake. Now that she had become this new “Whitaker Scarlett,” inheriting the original owner’s identity and most of her memories, she couldn’t help but feel aggrieved at her predecessor’s plight.
The original “Whitaker Scarlett” had the face of a temptress but was an empty-headed vase of a woman. Every expression and gesture carried an innate allure that would have made her a star in Scarlett’s original time 30 years later. But in the 1980s, that kind of charm was considered “loose.”
Rural folks wouldn’t use such sophisticated terms. For them, there was only one word to describe Whitaker Scarlett: promiscuous.
Because of her looks, her reputation had always been poor. And then she was accused of stealing her cousin Whitaker Rosalie’s fiancé and seducing her future brother-in-law in broad daylight. The scandal drowned her in a sea of gossip, not just from the village but the entire region. Even her own family wouldn’t stand by her.
The part about stealing her cousin’s fiancé could at least be debated.
But seducing her future brother-in-law in broad daylight? That was completely fabricated!
Even though it wasn’t true, no one believed her. Some people even swore that they had seen her rolling around with a delinquent from the neighboring village in a haystack. The rumors spread like wildfire, and the Whitaker family, instead of defending her, fanned the flames. Overwhelmed by shame and despair, the original Whitaker Scarlett had chosen to end her life by smashing her head against a pillar.
Scarlett had seen her fair share of injustice in the world. She wasn’t the type to get involved in every wrongful case.
But now that she was this Whitaker Scarlett, she wasn’t about to take the fall for something she didn’t do.
The Whitaker family’s faces were twisted with hostility, clearly intent on driving her to her death. Kneeling on the ground was her mother, Elizabeth—the one person in this life who had truly cared for her. Scarlett decided she wouldn’t endure this any longer.
“Mom, get up!” she said firmly.
She grabbed Elizabeth and pulled her up with all her strength. Elizabeth, worried about hurting her daughter’s injury, didn’t resist.
Calling her “Mom” wasn’t as hard as Scarlett had thought. In fact, she had always envied two things about this “Whitaker Scarlett.” First, she was stunningly beautiful, and second, she had a mother who loved her dearly. As a child, Scarlett’s parents had passed away, and she had never experienced such familial love.
She was the career-driven Whitaker Scarlett.
But now, she was also the Whitaker Scarlett of the 1980s, who had died under a cloud of malicious gossip.
She didn’t have the luxury of choice. These two identities had to merge into one.
“Scarlett, listen to me,” Elizabeth pleaded, her face full of sorrow. “Go apologize to your grandmother. Let’s make peace.”
Elizabeth had always been submissive, enduring insults from her mother-in-law, sisters-in-law, husband, and even her daughter. She believed in swallowing her grievances to keep the peace, but the more she endured, the worse she was treated. And the original Whitaker Scarlett had been no better in this regard.
Grandmother Whitaker, however, shrieked, “I don’t have a shameless tramp for a granddaughter! A disgusting little hussy trying to steal Rosalie’s fiancé!”
Scarlett’s temples throbbed.
As she climbed the career ladder in her past life, she had long stopped dealing with petty, low-level brawlers.
But her skill at tearing into catty competitors and dealing with deadbeat suppliers? That was still sharp as ever.
“Grandmother!” she bellowed with all her strength, her voice silencing the room for a moment.
“If you don’t recognize me as your granddaughter, I still have to call you Grandmother out of respect for the Whitaker family. I care deeply about this family. But if you keep calling me names like ‘hussy’ and ‘tramp,’ aren’t you just giving the whole village a free show? I may have no reputation left, but my cousins still need to marry someday. Being sisters to someone you all call a ‘tramp’—is that something to be proud of?”
Scarlett truly couldn’t understand this family. They were so biased and short-sighted. Did they think that destroying her reputation wouldn’t come back to haunt them? In a place like this, where family reputation was everything, if she was disgraced, the Whitaker family’s unmarried daughters would all suffer.
Grandmother Whitaker was momentarily at a loss for words, while Scarlett’s third aunt looked visibly uncomfortable.
