Reborn in Textile Mill, Tearing Apart Wicked Mother-in-Law and Boss's Daughter

In my previous life, I rushed to the factory gate clutching proof that my husband was carrying on with the mill director's daughter, thinking I could get justice.

But they said I was a madwoman, that my morals were loose.

I was sent to a psychiatric hospital, and in the end I died on a cold hospital bed, my eyes refusing to close.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been reborn, still clutching that crumpled piece of evidence.

This time, I won't make a scene.

Bradley Whitney, Lucy James, and that vicious old womanyou owe me, and I'm going to collect it back, with interest, debt by debt.

I opened my eyes with a start and found myself standing at the gate of Starline Textile Mill, gripping a crumpled piece of paper in my hand.

It was a lodging registration slip from an inn, and two names were written on it plain as day: Bradley Whitney and Lucy James.

I had been reborn.

Back to the very day I went to catch them in the act.

In my previous life, I stood at the mill gate holding that registration slip, telling everyone I met that my husband was having an affair with the mill director's daughter.

And the result?

Bradley came running out of the mill, slapped me across the face in front of everyone, called me mentally unstable, and claimed I had forged the slip.

Lucy came running out too, sobbing, saying she'd only gone to the inn with Bradley to discuss work, that I was slandering her.

Mill director Graham James stepped in personally, saying I was disrupting production and that the mill should deal with me firmly.

From that day on, the name "madwoman" was branded onto me like a mark.

Later they went even further, saying my daughter Niki wasn't Bradley's child, that my morals were loose, that I was fooling around with the male workers at the mill.

I was sent to a psychiatric hospital and locked up for five years.

In the end, I died on that cold iron bed in the psychiatric hospital, not a single person beside me.

"Myrtle, what are you throwing a fit about now!" Bradley's voice rang out behind me.

He really was good-lookingthick brows, big eyes, a straight nose. In a place like a textile mill, crowded with female workers, he counted as one of the most handsome young men around.

In my past life, I was fooled by that face, believing he was a man I could entrust my whole life to.

Looking at that face now, all I feel is disgust.

Bradley walked over, frowning. "Let me tell you, don't go making a spectacle of yourself at the mill gate. If you've got something to say, say it at home."

I didn't cry and carry on the way I had in my previous life.

I took a deep breath, folded the registration slip, and tucked it into my pocket.

Bradley froze for a moment, clearly not expecting me to react this way.

I lifted my head and looked at him calmly. "Bradley, you just wait."

With that, I turned and walked away.

Bradley shouted after me, "Myrtle, you stop right there! What's that supposed to mean?"

I didn't look backif anything, I walked faster.

Behind me came Bradley's cursing, and the whispers of a few onlookers.

I didn't care.

In my past life, I threw away every last shred of my dignity and still got no justice.

In this life, I don't want justice.

I want them to pay in blood for what they've done.

I didn't go home; instead, I went to the mill's records office.

Sarah Lawrence in the records office was an honest woman, and we got along quite well.

In my previous life, when I was being slandered, she was the only one who secretly brought me a couple of bread rolls at the psychiatric hospital.

I said softly, "Sarah, I'd like to check my delivery record from five years agothe discharge summary from the year I gave birth to Niki."

Sarah was taken aback. "Why are you looking into that? It's been five years."

I made up a reason. "Niki's been getting sick a lot lately, and I want to see if there was anything noted when she was born."

"Sarah, please, do me this favor and help me find it!"

Sarah nodded. "All right, wait a minute, I'll look for it."

She dug through the filing cabinet for a long while before finally pulling out a yellowed kraft paper envelope.

Sarah handed me the envelope. "Look at it quickly, then put it back. Don't let anyone find out."

I took the envelope, my hands trembling slightly.

In my previous life, I had never once doubted my delivery record.

I had always believed Niki was my biological daughter, flesh of my own flesh.

It wasn't until just before I died that an old nurse came to see me and said, hesitating, "Myrtle, the baby you had back thenit seems it was a boy."

Those words were like a needle stabbing into my heart.

This life, I would verify it for myself.

I tore open the envelope and slid out the yellowed discharge summary.

The handwriting was a little blurry, but I still caught the crucial part at a glance: "Newborn's sex: Female!"

And underneath the word "Female," I could faintly make out where it had been altered.

I slipped the discharge summary back into the envelope, my hands still trembling.

Seeing how off my face looked, Sarah asked with concern, "Myrtle, what's wrong? Why are you so pale?"

I forced a smile and handed the envelope back to her. "Maybe my blood sugar's a little low. Thank you, Sarah."

I walked out of the records office, my breathing quick and shallow.

If the baby I gave birth to was really a boy, then where was my son?

When I got home, Bradley was already back.

His face was dark, and he stared at me coldly.

My mother-in-law, Old Mrs. Whitney, sexist down to her bones, was sitting in front of the stove tending the fire. When she saw me come in, she didn't so much as lift her eyelids.

Niki was squatting on the ground playing in the mud. When she saw me come back, she called out timidly, "Mommy."

My heart ached, and I went over and picked her up.

In my last life, she was the one I worried about most while I was in the psychiatric hospital.

I kissed her forehead. "Niki, were you a good girl today?"

Niki nodded and said in a small voice, "Grandma scolded me again today. She said I'm a money-losing burden, and that Mommy can't have a son."

Old Mrs. Whitney snorted coldly from the stove. "What? Did I say something wrong?"

"Our Whitney family's had only one son for three generations, and it comes down to you and you pop out a girl. Am I not allowed to say anything?"

I didn't answer. I carried Niki into the back room and set her on the bed.

"Niki, you play by yourself in here. Mommy has to go out and take care of something."

Niki nodded obediently.

I turned, walked out of the back room, and shut the door.

Out in the main room, Bradley finally spoke.

He said coldly, "Myrtle, what exactly did you mean by that at the factory gate today?"

"I'm telling you, don't go bothering Lucy!"

I said calmly, "Whatever's going on between you and Lucy is none of my business."

Bradley was startled, clearly not expecting me to say that.

He asked with a suspicious look, "Myrtle, what kind of scheme are you cooking up now?"

I smiled. "I've just thought it through. A man, once his heart's gone, there's no point in keeping him."

When Old Mrs. Whitney heard that from the stove, she got upset at once.

She threw the fire poker to the ground, stood up, put her hands on her hips, and said, "Myrtle, what's with this snide talk of yours?"

Looking at that wrinkled face of hers, the hatred in my heart nearly spilled over.

In my last life, it was this old woman who helped Bradley bully me from start to finish.

She said I couldn't produce a son, that I was a hen that laid no eggs, that I wasn't good enough for her son.

When Bradley brought Lucy home, she was the one who tidied up the room, saying things like, "Lucy's carrying our Whitney family's seed, so she has to be waited on properly."

When I was sent to the psychiatric hospital, she was the one who pushed Niki into Lucy's arms, saying things like, "Sticking with a crazy woman like you will get you nowhere. Stick with Lucy and you'll eat well and live well."

I pressed down the hatred and put on a submissive face. "Mom, that's not what I meant. I just meant Bradley has a sweetheart on the side, and I can understand that."

"After all, I never gave him a son. I feel guilty about it."

Hearing me say that, Old Mrs. Whitney's expression eased a little.

She grunted. "It's not that I'm criticizing you, but you have to think about Bradley too."

"He's a grown man, out there working hard, and he comes home to a house without even a son. You think that feels good to him?"

I lowered my head and played the meek part. "Yes, you're right."

Seeing me like this, Bradley let his guard down too and said lazily, "That's more like it, Myrtle. I always knew you were a sensible one."

Sensible?

In my last life, that was the very word they used to tie me down so tightly.

In this life, we'll just see who the one without any sense really is.

As dawn approached, I decided to go find Teresa Lambert, the nurse who had delivered my baby years ago.

Teresa Lambert had been a midwife at the Starline Textile Mill's Staff Hospital. She was the one who delivered Niki.

Later she was transferred for some reason, and I heard she'd gone to a clinic out in the suburbs.

In my last life, I never once doubted her, and I never went looking for her.

But in this life, I had to find her.

The next morning, I asked the mill for leave, saying I needed to take Niki to see a doctor.

Bradley didn't suspect a thing. He even made a hypocritical show of handing me two dollars, saying, "Take Niki to the hospital and get her looked at. Don't be stingy with the money."

I dropped Niki off next door with Auntie Zhang and asked her to watch her for half a day. Then I rode my bicycle out to the suburbs.

The clinic where Teresa worked was in a town in the suburbs, more than twenty miles from the mill.

When I found Teresa, I got straight to the point. "Aunt Teresa, I'm Myrtle Sullivan, from Starline Textile Mill. Five years ago, when I had Niki, you were the one who delivered her."

Teresa's face changed at once, and she said quickly, "I don't know you. Please leave, and stop disturbing my work!"

Her reaction only confirmed what I'd guessed.

I said softly, "I'm not here to make trouble for you. I just want to know the truth about what happened back then. Where did my son go?"

"Aunt Teresa, I know you're a good person. What happened back then wasn't something you did willingly, was it?"

"Someone forced you, didn't they?"

Teresa's face twisted, torn, wanting to speak but holding back.

I gritted my teeth and played my trump card.

"Aunt Teresa, if you don't tell me the truth today, I'll go to the police station and report that someone switched babies back then."

"When the police look into it, you, as the midwife from that time, won't be able to keep clear of it."

"Think about it. You have grandchildren at home. If you go to prison over this, what happens to them?"

Teresa went pale in an instant, terrified and ashamed.

Her voice broke into sobs. "Myrtle, I did you wrong on this, I'm so sorry!"

"Five years ago, when you gave birth at the Staff Hospital, what you had really was a boy."

Even though I'd braced myself for it, the moment I heard those words, my tears came pouring out.

I asked in a trembling voice, "Where did that boy go?"

Teresa said, "Your mother-in-law, Old Mrs. Whitney, had been waiting outside the delivery room the whole time."

"After you gave birth, the second she saw it was a boy, she pulled me aside, pressed fifty dollars into my hand, and told me to carry the boy to a woman in the next delivery room."

I froze. "Who was that woman?"

Teresa said, "Your mother-in-law told me the girl was the mill director's daughter."

"Your mother-in-law gave your son to her, and gave her daughter to you."

I was stunned.

Niki, the daughter I'd raised for five years, was actually Lucy James's daughter.

And the boy at Lucy's side, the one Bradley doted on like a precious treasure, was my own son.

My voice shook as I asked, "Why would my mother-in-law do that? That was her own grandson!"

Teresa sighed. "Your mother-in-law said she was afraid that once you had a son, you'd become more valued for it, rise in standing in the family, and she wouldn't be able to keep you under her thumb anymore."

"She also said Lucy was the mill director's daughter, and if she gave her grandson to Lucy to raise, then later Lucy would be his mother, and her son Bradley could climb up by leaning on Lucy."

When I'd heard it all, I found it laughable.

Old Mrs. Whitney, oh, Old Mrs. Whitney, you really did play your hand well.

By the time I got home, it was already past eight o'clock at night.

Bradley and Old Mrs. Whitney were sitting in the main room, both wearing sour expressions.

Bradley demanded right away, "You've been gone all day. Did you go make a scene at the factory gate again?"

I said calmly, "I took Niki to see a doctor."

Old Mrs. Whitney snorted. "What kind of illness takes a whole day to check? I bet you've been out meeting some man!"

In my past life, this was exactly when they'd started slandering me for loose behavior.

In this life, they were pulling the same trick again.

I pretended to look wronged. "Mom, what do you mean by that? I was at the hospital all day. How could I have been seeing other men?"

Old Mrs. Whitney slapped the table. "Let me tell you, Myrtle, this afternoon someone saw you talking to a man outside the supply co-op. The two of you were chatting and laughing. You still dare say you weren't off meeting some man in secret?"

I explained, "He was asking for directions. I don't know him."

Bradley sneered. "You need to be all smiles and laughter to give directions? Myrtle, do you take me for a fool?"

"Let me tell you, Myrtle, you'd better behave yourself. If I find out you really do have someone on the side, I won't let you off!"

With that, he slammed the door and went into the back room.

Old Mrs. Whitney followed him in, but not before shooting me a vicious glare.

I stood in the main room, a cold smile slowly curving my lips.

So they wanted to slander me?

Fine.

Then let's see who ends up ruined and disgraced in the end.

...

Over the next few days, Bradley and Old Mrs. Whitney treated me worse and worse.

They started spreading rumors around the mill, saying I was of loose morals, that I was carrying on with the male workers.

The rumors got detailed, claiming I was having an affair with a male worker from the Supply and Sales Department in the warehouse, caught in the act.

Director James himself spoke up, saying the matter would be dealt with seriously, and even set up an investigation team specifically to look into my "conduct problem."

Lucy wanted my reputation destroyed, so she could marry Bradley openly.

Bradley wanted me thrown out with nothing, so he could keep all the family property and take custody of Niki as a matter of course.

Old Mrs. Whitney wanted to force me out, so she could bring Lucy into the household.

After the investigation team finished questioning me, they handed me a punishment: "suspension pending investigation."

Bradley seized the chance to demand a divorce, saying I had loose morals and wasn't fit to be his wife.

Old Mrs. Whitney stood outside the door and cursed, "You've dragged the whole Whitney name through the mud! Get out, and the farther the better!"

A few days later, I tucked a bag stuffed with evidence under my arm and walked straight to the Broadcast Room in the office building.

Old Cole from the Broadcast Room went to the cafeteria for lunch at 11:30 sharp every single day, without fail.

I timed it perfectly, pushed the door open, went in, and threw the latch behind me.

The moment I flipped on the microphone, my voice carried through the speakers to every corner of Starline Textile Mill.

"Leaders and coworkers of Starline Textile Mill, this is Myrtle from the Spinning Workshop."

The workers packing up their tools all froze.

A woman from the Spinning Workshop nudged the coworker beside her. "Huh? Wasn't Myrtle suspended pending investigation? Why is she in the Broadcast Room?"

"Who knows? Probably wants to plead her innocence. Let's hear what she has to say!"

Gripping the microphone, I said in a steady voice, "I'm taking ten minutes of your time today. There are three big things I want to make clear in front of every worker at this mill."

"And I ask you all to bear witness, and see whether I, Myrtle, am really the crazy woman, the rotten woman they say I am."