It was only when Su Rui stepped into the cold, towering Su family mansion that she finally understood—
the couple who had taken her from the orphanage were never her adoptive parents at all.
They were merely hired puppets.
The one truly pulling the strings was the seventy-year-old patriarch of the Su family—Su Daiqiang.
Five months ago, his only son, his daughter-in-law, and his beloved granddaughter had been swallowed by an avalanche in the Swiss Alps.
That night, the Su residence was as silent as a tomb.
The agony of white-haired elders burying their black-haired children shattered what remained of his spirit.
His wife had passed away the year before, leaving him utterly alone in the vast estate.
In his twilight years, he should have been surrounded by family and peace.
Instead, fate had stripped him bare, casting him into the abyss.
Until one day, a photograph from the orphanage arrived.
The girl in the picture—her face was nearly identical to that of his lost granddaughter.
For a moment, his breath caught in his chest.
It was as if fate itself had tempted him with one final illusion, a phantom thread to cling to.
He immediately arranged for the adoption.
Yet when Su Rui stood before him for the first time, what surged in his heart was not tenderness, but a twisted tide of guilt and absurdity.
Yes, he knew.
This child was not his granddaughter.
He had only dragged her here to patch a hole that would never be filled.
And that act of substitution made him feel as though he were betraying the dead.
So he smothered his grief and turned it into cold cruelty.
"Don't think that you are some rich heiress now."
His voice was as sharp and merciless as steel.
"You are nothing but her replacement."
Replacement.
The word drove into Su Rui's chest like a nail, leaving her breathless.
She wanted to speak—to shout that she had her own name, her own life.
But her throat tightened, and nothing came out.
Su Daiqiang's gaze bore down on her, stripping away the last of her defiance.
"From this day on, your name is Su Rui. Whatever you were called before—forget it!"
The sentence struck like a hammer.
Her world collapsed inward.
In that instant, she realized she was no longer herself.
From that day forward, she became the shadow of a dead child.
She had to mimic her laugh, her tears, her favorite foods and colors, even her games.
Her schedule was packed to suffocation, her every breath bound to someone else's memory.
Yes, she had the finest clothes, the richest meals, the most extravagant life.
But at night, staring into the mirror, she would tremble as she tried to remember—
what was her true name?
The one that belonged only to her, before it was stripped away.
Once, during a move, she stumbled upon a dust-covered mannequin in the storage room.
And suddenly, she broke down, crying out, "Mom!"
She wanted to tell it: I am not Su Rui! I have my own name!
But when she tried, the words died on her lips.
She realized with despair—she no longer remembered it.
Her real name had been swallowed by time, lost forever.
…
At some point, she cried herself to sleep.
When she awoke, she was slumped over the side of Li Kai's bed, the sheets beneath her soaked with tears.
The boy was gone.
She rose unsteadily and stepped into the living room, where a steaming breakfast sat neatly on the table.
Beside it lay a small note, the handwriting clumsy yet firm:
—Mom, I've gone to school first!
Su Rui froze, her chest tightening.
Warmth spread through her heart, melting the chill that had long bound it.
For the first time, she felt she was not just a replacement.
She was truly needed.
She was… someone's mother.