Transmigrated as the Villain Boss's Precious Darling

Goldie Thorne didn’t like the sound of that. He muttered resentfully, "Why does my sister have to endure it? For another decade or more? That’s long enough to ruin anyone. That bastard Chapman is out there painting the town red while my sister is basically a widow at home. Dad, what on earth are you thinking..."

"What do you know? Isn’t this how every family gets by? Getting a divorce over every little thing? What about the children? Your sister doesn’t have a job, she’s not young anymore, and she has kids to raise. How will she survive? Brian Chapman has a job. Even with kids, he can still find a new wife. What if the stepmother abuses the children? You fool, you make it sound so simple. Do you think I’d want to harm your sister?"

The usually gentle Byron Thorne had lost his temper, a rare occurrence. He pitied his daughter too, but he had to consider the bigger picture. ’Life is meant to be filled with suffering; who could really live a perfect, carefree life?’

’He and Raina bickered and stumbled through their days too, didn’t they? They’d spent most of their lives like that. In the end, you just have to grit your teeth and get through it.’

Phoebe Thorne’s expression changed. The main reason she was unwilling to get a divorce was her fear that a stepmother would abuse her three children.

If they really divorced, the Chapman family would definitely not give her their son. They might not even let her have Amanda. The Chapmans still wanted to use Amanda as a servant, raise her for a few more years, and then collect a bride price for her. She had seen through her mother-in-law’s vicious intentions long ago.

How could she leave them behind with a clear conscience? Even if she divorced, she had to take all three children with her.

A fire of resentment burned in Phoebe Thorne’s heart. She said hatefully, "If only Brian Chapman were dead. I’d be happier begging on the streets with my three children."

She would rather be a widow than continue living this disgusting life with Brian Chapman. The thought of that man’s filthy affairs with that little widow made her chest tighten with anger. Besides, she had been earning some money tailoring at the Hawthorne family’s place these days, which had broadened her horizons. She was truly unwilling to spend the rest of her life tied to a man like Brian Chapman.

’When I was a girl, I listened to my parents’ arrangements. After getting married, I swallowed my anger for the sake of my children. I’ve never once lived for myself in the first half of my life. If I don’t fight for a change now, I might die without ever finding out who I truly am.’

"Only the good die young. How could Brian Chapman possibly die? And that damned old hag won’t die either. For now, just endure it. You have to get your hands on his salary. Raise your three children well and don’t think about anything else," Raina advised.

Her thinking was the same as the old man’s. Divorce was definitely not an option. Pedaling a rickshaw wasn’t a lifelong career. Right now, it had to be done in secret, and who knew what new policies might come along? Every bit of money earned was just that; it couldn’t be a long-term meal ticket. A stable job like Brian Chapman’s—an iron rice bowl—was the only thing they could truly rely on.

"Mom... I... I feel so miserable..."

Phoebe Thorne sighed, her eyes welling with tears. ’My life is so bitter!’

’Why is it always the woman who has to endure?’

’Why can’t a woman live the life she wants?’

’Are women born inferior to men?’

’Even my own parents, who love me so much, are telling me to endure it. No one else will ever stand up for me.’ A chill went through Phoebe Thorne’s heart. ’Am I supposed to just resign myself to this fate?’

’But I just can’t accept this!’

Raina wiped her eyes and gently patted her daughter’s back. She sighed, "I know, Mom knows. This is just fate... Endure it..."

Allister, who was sleeping in Phoebe Thorne’s arms, suddenly stirred. He pouted, looking unhappy. She quickly patted him a few times and hummed a little tune, and Allister drifted back into a sweet sleep, a smile on his lips. The child, unaware of his mother’s sorrow, was lost in his own beautiful dreams. Looking at her innocent, adorable little son, Phoebe Thorne’s heart ached with even greater bitterness. She buried her face against her little boy and began to sob.

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