Sara was eight when her father made the announcement.
The household gathered in the living room, servants lined up respectfully, as Mr. Chen stood tall in his black suit. His face, though stern, carried a hint of relief, almost as though he had finally found a solution to a problem that weighed him down.
"I've decided to remarry," he declared.
Sara blinked up at him, her small hands gripping the hem of her dress. Remarry? She didn't quite understand what it meant, but she knew enough to feel her stomach tighten.
"From today onwards, you will have someone who can take care of you," he added, his gaze softening when it fell on her. "She will be good to both of us."
The doors opened, and a woman walked in.
Her heels clicked against the polished marble, her dress elegant and perfectly tailored. She carried herself with poise, smiling warmly as she looked at Sara. For a moment, the little girl froze.
She knew this woman.
It was Aunt Lin — her mother's best friend. The woman who had visited often when Mama was alive, the one who used to sit in the garden and drink tea with her mother, laughing softly as they whispered secrets Sara was too young to hear.
"Auntie?" Sara whispered, her voice trembling.
The woman crouched down, her perfume wrapping around the child like a gentle trap. "No longer Auntie," she said sweetly. "From now on, you can call me… Mother."
Sara's breath hitched. The word lodged in her throat, heavy and wrong.
Her father beamed with pride. "See, Sara? She already cares for you like her own. This is good for our family. For us."
The servants clapped politely. The air filled with congratulations, but to Sara, it felt like the walls were closing in.
That evening, the new Mrs. Chen walked through the mansion as though she had always belonged there. She admired the chandeliers, commented on the paintings, and gave orders with a confidence that unsettled the long-time staff.
When she entered Sara's bedroom, she touched the dolls on the shelves, her smile never fading. "So many toys… You are truly blessed, little one."
Sara hugged her pillow, eyes wary.
The woman sat on the edge of the bed and brushed a strand of hair from Sara's forehead. "Don't be afraid. I will take care of you, just like your mother would have wanted."
The words were gentle, but Sara's heart ached. She didn't want like your mother would have wanted. She wanted her real mother.
And yet, when she glanced at her father standing by the door, his eyes filled with hope, Sara swallowed her protests.
"Yes… Mother," she whispered.
The woman's smile widened, triumphant yet tender. "Good girl."
Sara closed her eyes, her chest tightening with confusion. The mansion no longer felt the same. A stranger had entered their world — not just into their house, but into her mother's place.
And deep down, Sara sensed that nothing would ever be the same again.