CHAPTER 64: CHAPTER 64: THEY WERE DESTINED TO BE APART

Renee Winslow sent the message and then immediately retracted it.

She held her phone close to her chest, turned sideways, and lay on the sofa.

At that moment, she felt exhausted, but closing her eyes brought no sleep.

Her mind was a jumble, cluttered with fleeting images.

Suddenly, the images of the imposing old Yates Family mansion and Jack Yates’ cold, harsh face flashed through her mind.

Thinking about the message she had just sent, she couldn’t help but find it ridiculous.

Laughing at her own foolishness, laughing at her own misery.

Indeed, people easily lose themselves in adversity.

She actually wanted to return to Jack Yates, actually considered him her safe harbor—how delusional must she be to have such an absurd thought?

With someone like Jack Yates, there was no way they could last; separation was inevitable; it was only a matter of time.

She clearly knew there wouldn’t be any outcome, so she never dared to let herself fall too deep.

That night, Renee Winslow slept poorly, remaining in a half-asleep, half-awake, light sleep state.

When she got up in the morning, she felt dizzy, her head heavy, and her throat ached a little.

Having not slept well, combined with the cold living room, she caught a cold.

She leaned tiredly on the sofa as her half-brother, Wilder Winslow, poked her with a toy gun, saying in his childish voice, "Shoot the bad guy, shoot the bad guy, shoot, shoot, shoot."

Renee, annoyed, swung her elbow, speaking with slight impatience, "Go play by yourself, don’t bother me."

The toy gun fell to the ground, and the four-year-old Wilder began to cry out loud.

Step-mother Whitney Lowell and grandmother Winnie Lowell ran out simultaneously, one from the kitchen and the other from the bedroom.

Both carried the same anxious and worried expressions.

Whitney Lowell scooped Wilder into her arms, doting on him with kisses and strokes, coaxing in a tearful voice, "Oh oh, don’t cry, don’t cry, baby don’t cry, tell mommy who hit you?"

The little boy, already aware of how to falsely accuse, pointed a little finger, egged on further by Whitney often speaking ill of Renee in his presence, and thinking of Renee as the bad guy, insisted in his bratty voice, "Bad person, the bad person hit me."

Renee was not surprised, pulling her lips into a cold smile and slowly turning towards the tear-streaked face of Wilder, saying with a light laugh, "Lying will get you eaten by the wolf; the big bad wolf will come tonight to eat you up and with a howl, bite off your head!"

"Waaa..." Wilder cried even louder, burying his little face into Whitney’s neck.

Whitney turned to Winnie Lowell, "Mom, look, see Renee. I’m not falsely accusing her; you’ve seen it for yourself, she’s scaring him right in front of you, and who knows how she hits him behind our backs."

Winnie Lowell sighed helplessly, and said earnestly, "Renee, you’re his older sister, and more than ten years older than Wilder. Even if he’s in the wrong in some way, as his sister, you shouldn’t be arguing with him."

It was only at this point that Renee came to fully recognize the reality—she was never in first place in anyone’s heart, never the most important one.

In this vast world, there wasn’t a single person who would put her first.

Grandparents loved her, yet loved their grandson even more.

If forced to choose between her and Wilder, they would definitely choose Wilder, not her.

Her place in their hearts clearly reflected her position in this family—no separate room of her own, just a corner to shelter her.

In her grandparents’ minds, unquestionably, her father was first—because he was their son, no matter how useless, he was still their flesh and blood, much different from grandchildren.

Next was Wilder, because he was their grandson and the heir of the Winslow lineage.

Even when she racked her brain, she couldn’t understand why a family so broke that they echoed poverty would insist on having a son. Was there a throne to inherit?

No, there wasn’t anything, nothing but poverty; nothing except that, yet it didn’t stop her grandparents from favoring boys over girls.

As for her father, that was even needless to say—he never loved her, never regarded her as a daughter, always cold toward her.

No matter how strong Renee was, she was just an eighteen or nineteen-year-old girl after all.

She still longed for familial warmth, for someone who could love her.

Hearing her grandmother’s obviously biased words, Renee gave a somewhat bitter smile.

She stood up, smiling as she spoke to Winnie Lowell, "Grandma, I’m going to a class reunion today, I won’t be coming back tonight, I’ll be staying with friends for a few days."

Whitney Lowell disapproved, asking, "What kind of class reunion requires spending money?"

Renee could no longer maintain a polite smile, her gaze turning cold as she looked at Whitney with resentment, "So what if it costs money? Am I spending your money?"

Momentarily speechless, Whitney snapped back, "What kind of talk is that? What do you mean by not spending my money, in a family, spending anyone’s money is still spending."

Renee couldn’t be bothered to argue, pushing a suitcase into her grandparents’ spare room, got changed, then left without even washing her face.

Winnie Lowell followed her to the door, asking with concern, "How long will you be out?"

Renee looked back at the thin and frail Winnie Lowell, smiling, "I’m not sure yet, grandma, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of myself."

Walking out of the house, Renee took a deep breath.

Even in the South, winter mornings were still cold, carrying a damp chill.

Inhaling the cold air made Renee cough abruptly.

Renee didn’t actually have a class reunion; having just returned she didn’t even have any such invitations.

She just couldn’t stand being at home any longer and needed to get away for a while.

Thankfully, Jack Yates had given her enough money to stay in a hotel for the entire winter break if she wished.

Renee took a ride to Vintara, choosing not to stay at the luxurious hotel where she had previously stayed with Jack, but booking a regular hotel instead.

On the night of her stay, Renee’s cold worsened; not only was she dizzy and her throat sore, but she developed a fever.

Burning with fever, her entire body felt weak and sore, and everything she saw appeared blurry as she struggled to sit up and called her friend Sanga, hoping Sanga would bring her medicine, but more importantly, hoping she would stay with her.

After all, if it was only about getting medicine, she could’ve ordered online, no need to call Sanga.

Whenever sick, she especially feared loneliness, craving someone’s company.

However, muddled by her illness, she mistakenly dialed Jack Yates instead.

Unaware she had called Jack, she softly spoke when the call connected, "Sanga, I’m sick, could you bring some medicine to me?"

She spoke in a dialect where the word for "Sanga" and "brother" sounded almost identical.

She then mentioned the hotel’s name and room number before hanging up.

Jack Yates, looking at his phone with a stern expression, his jawline tight and then relaxing, promptly instructed his assistant to book him a flight to Vintara.

Following that, he called Matthew Shaw, asking him to arrange for a doctor to visit Renee’s hotel room to check on her.

Yet, reflecting on the gentle "brother" in her sickly voice, Jack’s expression darkened once more.

Having already conducted a background check on Renee, he knew she had no brothers, not even cousins, just a four-year-old half-brother.

So who is this "brother"? Was it a boy she liked once?