Chapter 212

"This job starts at fifty thousand a month."

Mrs. Lin slid the gilded business card across the coffee table, tapping it lightly with her manicured finger. Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, making the embossed letters gleam.

Lin Yue sat opposite, her fingers twisting the hem of her shirt unconsciously. Her throat tightened as she stared at the card.

"Mom, what is this...?"

"Executive assistant to the CEO of Grandeur Group." Mrs. Lin took a sip of tea, the liquid shimmering in her porcelain cup. "You can start next Monday."

The afternoon light caught the diamonds in her earlobes as she tilted her head. She had styled her hair differently today, her makeup flawless.

"But my current job—"

"That pittance?" Mrs. Lin's red lips curled. "You can't even afford a decent handbag with what you earn."

Lin Yue bit her lower lip. True, her salary barely covered essentials, but at least she'd earned it herself.

"Take this job," her mother set the cup down with a clink, "and leave that penniless boy behind."

The air conditioning hummed, stirring the silk of Mrs. Lin's dress as she crossed her legs, waiting.

Lin Yue's grip tightened. She knew exactly who her mother meant—Chen Mo, her boyfriend of three years.

"Mom, Chen and I are serious—"

"Serious?" Mrs. Lin leaned forward, her perfume overwhelming. "He can't even afford a down payment on an apartment. What future can he give you?"

A vibration interrupted them. Lin Yue glimpsed Chen Mo's name flashing on her phone screen.

Mrs. Lin saw it too. With a cold smile, she pressed the reject call button, her crimson nails clicking against the glass.

"The choice is yours." She stood, lifting her limited-edition Hermès bag. "Either accept this opportunity, or keep struggling in your little fantasy."

Her heels clicked against the marble floor as she walked to the door. Then she paused without turning.

"Oh, Mr. Wang's birthday gala is next Friday." Her voice was casual. "His son just returned from studying in England."

The door closed softly, but the sound hit Lin Yue like a hammer. Tears welled in her eyes as she stared at the business card.

Her phone buzzed again—a text this time:

"Yue, I got promoted! Celebrate tonight?"

Her finger hovered over the screen as clouds swallowed the sunlight outside, plunging the room into shadow.

Sunlight streamed through the window as Emily Johnson washed the dishes. Her slender fingers traced the rough edges of the clay bowls, her fingertips calloused from years of labor.

"Emily..." Mrs. Johnson stood at the doorway, hesitating.

Without looking up, Emily said, "Mom, are you bringing up the city again?"

Outside, the laughter of children echoed against the adobe walls. David and Tommy were playing hide-and-seek with the village kids, their joyful shouts filling the yard.

Mrs. Johnson sighed, her gaze sweeping over the humble dwelling. "Look at this place. Not a single decent piece of furniture. You grew up with every comfort, and now you live like this..."

"I'm happy here," Emily interrupted, her voice calm but firm.

Her mother lowered her voice. "If you agree to return to the city, I can give you my job at the textile factory."

Emily's hands stilled.

"It's a permanent position—steady wages, year-end bonuses," Mrs. Johnson pressed. "A hundred times better than farming in this backwater!"

Emily lifted her eyes to meet her mother's. "What about Michael and the boys?"

"You can settle in first, then bring them later—"

"No." Emily's refusal was absolute. "We go together, or not at all."

Mrs. Johnson's face darkened. "Have you lost your mind? City residency is priceless! How will you register a country man and two children?"

"Then we're done talking." Emily turned to leave.

"Wait!" Her mother grabbed her arm. "I'm thinking of your future! Do you know how many people would kill for this chance?"

Emily pulled free. "I know. But I also know I wouldn't be alive today without Michael."

Mrs. Johnson froze.

"That winter I had a high fever—he carried me twenty miles through the mountains to the hospital," Emily's voice wavered. "To nurse me back to health, he hunted in a blizzard and nearly fell off a cliff."

Outside, Michael Stone returned with firewood on his shoulders. His tall frame cast a long shadow in the sunlight, sweat glistening on his sun-bronzed face.

Emily's expression softened. "Mom, all you see is a rundown house. What you don't see is the man who truly loves me."

Mrs. Johnson opened her mouth but found no words.

"Keep your job," Emily said gently. "Someone else needs it more than I do."

A sudden cry came from the yard. Michael rushed over—Tommy had tripped. He scooped the boy up, carefully brushing dirt from his pants.

Watching them, Mrs. Johnson's eyes filled with conflict.

"Mom, if you really want what's best for me," Emily said finally, "then bless us."

The setting sun stretched their three shadows long across the ground. Standing in the doorway, Mrs. Johnson wondered—for the first time—if her daughter's choice might be right after all.