Chapter 2 A Lesson in Discipline

In my previous life, I had a narrow outlook. But now, I wanted to see beyond my old limits. I no longer felt the need to prove my beauty or convince myself that Shawn would always love me. That kind of thinking was foolish. Luckily, I was naturally attractive—I could see it in the way men admired me. But looks alone weren't enough. Before, I indulged in the shallow satisfaction of being envied by women and admired by men. Now, I saw those feelings for what they were—fragile illusions, easily shattered. In my second chance at life, I understood that real security came from power, influence, and respect. Fairness might come from us, but if I wanted to stand my ground, I needed strength. If I were a wolf, I had to sharpen my fangs; if I were a sheep, I had to make sure I could run. After experiencing the terrifying previous life, I believed the rest of my life would be peaceful and calm. I studied my reflection for a while before slipping out of my casual dress and stepping into the bathroom. For five years, I had devoted myself to being the ideal wife, ensuring Shawn had nothing to worry about. I had packed away and discarded every outfit that accentuated my figure. Whenever I went shopping, I focused only on choosing modest and refined clothing. But now, my perspective had shifted. My body hadn't changed. In truth, it had only become fuller and more graceful with time. A simple, well-fitted dress could easily bring back my former radiance. Why should I let such a figure go to waste? ... The sky outside dimmed. An off-road vehicle soon pulled up in front of the house. I thought William, Shawn's driver, had picked up Yuna. But to my surprise, it was Shawn himself. He opened the back door, and Yuna, dragging her small school bag with one hand, half-stumbled into the living room. Seeing me sitting on the couch, she threw her bag at me. "Mommy! Why didn't you come get me? You promised to pick me up on time every day!" Watching my daughter, who had already developed such a fiery temper at a young age, I realized just how much I had spoiled her. She carried herself like a little princess, ordering me around as if I were her devoted maid. Shawn entered with a deep frown. At 30, he carried himself with the refined elegance of someone in power. Dressed in a suit, he had the poised demeanor of a CEO straight out of a novel. In my previous life, I had loved him so much that I lost myself. But now, I felt nothing, as if I was looking at a lover who had passed away yesterday. "I don't want to talk to you anymore!" Yuna shouted at me angrily. "You're a bad mommy!" Upon hearing her words, I rose from the couch, blocked her at the staircase, and slapped her. It wasn't too harsh or too soft—just enough to bring her to her senses. Yuna covered her face, her teary eyes filled with disbelief and fury. She shot me a sharp glare. "Pick up your school bag," I ordered firmly. "No!" she shouted in defiance. Without hesitation, I lifted my hand again. Yuna closed her eyes, bracing herself for another slap. "Tiffany." Shawn's stern voice cut through the air. I turned to him as he strode over, picked up the school bag, and silently led his furious daughter upstairs. Hearing the commotion, my mother stepped out of the kitchen. "What happened? Is Yuna crying?" I approached her. "Yes, I hit her. She's too spoiled." "She's still a child. Why did you do that?" "Exactly because she's a child, she needs discipline. Otherwise, she won't respect me," I replied coolly. My tone made my mother give me a puzzled look. She was probably shocked. In the past, I always treated Yuna like she was precious. Even when she threw tantrums, I would patiently comfort her. Sometimes, it took me over an hour, and in the end, I had to compromise and agree to her various conditions to settle things. But now, I had no patience left. I didn't want to waste my time on an ungrateful child. After all, the one she would treasure wouldn't be me—it would be her stepmother, someone who held no real title in this family. I helped my mother prepare dinner. Since we had no maid, I was always the one doing the cooking. Every few days, a cleaner came to tidy up, and a gardener handled the yard work. I wanted to be a good wife, so I made sure the house was always spotless, both inside and out. I hoped Shawn would notice my hard work and speak well of me to others. "Mom, I'm going to the housekeeping agency tomorrow," I said casually while rinsing vegetables. My mother, busy at the stove, turned her head. "Why? Are you thinking of hiring a new cleaner?" "No," I replied lazily. "I'm hiring two maids." Her face filled with disbelief. "Why? There's nothing urgent at home. You can manage the cooking, cleaning, and taking care of Yuna by yourself, can't you?" "Mom, I'm a wealthy wife now. I don't want to do housework anymore," I said with a smile, though my tone was serious. "Women in my position have several maids. Why should I make things hard for myself when I can afford help?" She wanted to argue, but the food in the pan nearly burned, so she quickly turned back to the stove. Once dinner was ready, my mother told me, "Go call Shawn and Yuna down before the food gets cold." I went upstairs and stepped into the children's room, where Yuna was still sobbing. She gripped a pair of small scissors, snipping away at our photos. Every picture of me was cut to pieces—only hers remained intact. "What are you doing?" I was shocked. I never imagined she'd go so far as to destroy our photos just because I scolded her. She had always been ungrateful. "I don't want you to be my mommy! You're a bad mommy! You hit me!" Yuna lifted her head, fury burning in her teary eyes. Staring at her, whatever little affection I still had disappeared completely. "If I'm not your mother, then who do you want instead?" I asked calmly. Without hesitation, Yuna yelled, "I want Queena! She treats me the best! Not like you—you lied to me, didn't pick me up from school, and ... you hit me! I hate you!" I never imagined I'd hear Queena's name from my daughter so quickly. I was just about to question her further when Shawn's firm voice interrupted from the doorway. "Yuna, stop saying nonsense." Shawn had just ended a phone call when he stepped inside. The moment she saw him, Yuna dropped the scissors and ran straight into his arms. She clung to him tightly, sobbing as she pointed at me. "I don't want her to be my mommy! She hurt me!" He turned his gaze toward me, and for a brief moment, a flicker of surprise crossed his face. I knew why. The lace dress I wore hugged my figure, leaving my back exposed. My fair skin and elegant curves were impossible for him to ignore.