"I am not a jinx!" she retorted angrily, her eyes brimming with tears.
"If you’re not a jinx, then why did your father and mother suddenly die in a car accident? Even your grandmother, who was always kind and devout, fell ill and passed away. Scarlett, there’s sothing we’ve never told you. That’s because your parents thought fortune tellers were unreliable and feared those words would harm you, so they forbade us from speaking out. Now that they’re gone, there’s no need to hide it from you."
"When you were very young, a blind fortune teller in the family read your fortune. He said there was a curse in your fate and that you would bring misfortune to those around you. He advised sending you away. But your parents didn’t believe him and even reprimanded him. But now the facts prove him right: you indeed carry a curse, and even brought death to your biological parents. How can we not fear you?"
"Even if you think we’re heartless or cruel, don’t co looking for us again; our family doesn’t want any ties with soone as inauspicious as you."
Bam—
The usually kind and loving aunt blocked her from the door with a grim face, refusing to respond no matter how much she knocked.
Was she truly a jinx?
Standing outside the stone gates of the cetery, Scarlett Yates wore a bitter smile.
Though many years had passed, when she thought about all that happened that day, she could still feel the sense of despair and sadness.
She dragged her heavy steps slowly toward the grave of Father Yates and Mother Yates.
The two graves were side by side, and Scarlett kept her head down. As she approached, she suddenly noticed there was a person squatting in front of the grave, and a large pile of lilies had been placed on the ground that should have been empty.
Beside the lilies squatted a man in a sharp suit, exuding confidence. One of his hands rested on the tombstone, his fingers gently brushing over the engraved nas, yet his fierce eyes were filled with sorrow and anguish.
In a hoarse voice, he murmured, "Little Maya, how quickly these years have passed. Are you well down there?"
This man, this voice...
Scarlett Yates took a step back in shock, the flowers she held falling to the ground.
As she retreated, she stepped on a dried leaf, which emitted a crisp snap as it crumbled underfoot.
The man, his expression pained as he caressed the tombstone, slowly turned his head at the sound.
Seeing his face, Scarlett Yates’s eyes widened in surprise, then her face turned cold: "So it’s you, Uncle Saxon."
"Scarlett, I should have known you’d co today." Roy Saxon was only stunned for a few seconds before resuming his calm deanor.
He withdrew his hand from the tombstone and slowly stood up.
Scarlett Yates bent down to pick up the flowers scattered on the ground.
Seeing Roy Saxon surprised her, but not as much as hearing him call her mother "Little Maya."
"Little Maya" was Mother Yates’s childhood na, known only to the closest people.
And just now, she saw with her own eyes and heard with her own ears Roy Saxon call this na in deep sorrow.
He seed very sad, very mournful, and as his fingers touched the engraved "Autumn Spencer," there appeared to be a glimr of tears in his eyes.
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