"Mom, where's my sister? You... you didn't dump her somewhere, did you?"
That little voice was crisp and shocked, and Elena Whitmore's mouth twitched hard.
She'd been single since birth for twenty-six years. Had never even held a man's hand. So where exactly did this fully grown son come from?
Elena stared, her mind blank for a beat.
Who was she?
Where was she?
Standing on the steps in front of her was a little boy, maybe three or four, dressed in a proper little British-style suit.
So handsome he looked like he'd just walked out of a kids' fashion ad.
Behind him stood a three-story white villa, understated but screaming money.
Elena lifted her eyes again and saw the house number behind him.
No. 1 Banshan Road.
Boom!
Something exploded in her head.
So she... she'd transmigrated into a book?
"Ethan..."
A gentle voice came from inside the villa.
Elena's thoughts got cut off on the spot.
She looked up again just in time to see a man walking out through the front door.
Whoa.
Her eyes lit up, and she blanked out for a second.
The man was over six-three, with cold, deep-set eyes and sharply defined features that gave off that mixed-blood kind of vibe. His jawline was sharper than her whole career plan.
White shirt, black suit. As he walked out, he adjusted the Windsor knot at his collar.
Elena's gaze landed on his long, straight, bony fingers, and as a self-proclaimed hand fetish enthusiast, she couldn't help swallowing.
The moment he saw her, his expression shifted.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, legs for days. He came down the steps in just a few strides. "Why are you here alone? Where's Sophia?"
The second Elena got a clear look at that outrageously handsome face—
and then looked at the little boy beside him, basically a one-to-one mini copy—
she instantly understood.
The big one and the small one in front of her were Victor Whitmore, the male lead in the book, and their son, Ethan Whitmore.
So Sophia was the daughter from the boy-girl twins... Sophia Whitmore?
Realizing something, Elena's pupils shrank.
A layer of goosebumps shot up her back like tiny needles.
The good news: her husband was a top-tier big shot in the capital circle, filthy rich, and she had both a son and a daughter.
The bad news: she was not the heroine.
She was the vicious side character in the book. The toxic ex-wife who was just about to get divorced.
First she blackmailed him with old favors.
Then she stirred up drama nonstop.
And on top of that, there was the elegant, calm, untouchable white-moonlight woman there as a comparison.
A character like her? If she didn't die miserably enough, it would practically be disrespectful to the readers.
While Elena was still hesitating,
Victor had already walked up to her, face dark. "I'm talking to you. Where's Sophia?"
Ever since the day they got married, she'd been making scenes nonstop. If he answered one phone call, she'd suspect there was some woman on the other end trying to seduce him.
After getting pregnant, she got even worse.
The twins had almost died in the womb.
And all these years, she'd pulled every stunt imaginable, ignoring the children completely, not acting like a mother in the slightest.
Today, she had unusually suggested taking the kids to the amusement park, but she only took Sophia and left Ethan behind.
And now, Sophia was missing.
As if guessing what Elena was thinking, Victor's eyes turned even darker. "You lost her? Where did you leave her?"
The man's presence was icy and oppressive.
Elena's brain spun at top speed, and she quickly figured out the situation.
She had landed in the exact moment before Victor was supposed to leave for the airport to pick up his white moonlight.
To stop him from going, she'd left her daughter behind at the amusement park.
She figured it would only be an hour or two. There was a driver, bodyguards, surveillance everywhere. No way the kid could actually be lost.
Not only would her daughter be found, she'd also stop him from running to his white moonlight.
But reality had slapped her in the face.
Her daughter wasn't found.