Celeste Ashford's previous life was that of a terminally ill, never-married wealthy single woman who'd built her fortune through a clever space-storage reselling business.
After dying young, she transmigrated into the harsh 1960s, and the moment she opened her eyes, she inherited two kids with no blood relation to her — left behind by her late husband.
Before she'd even had time to process that, she was informed: her current husband had adopted three orphans of fallen soldiers.
Celeste Ashford counted on her fingers: five kids, one man, and the eligibility to join him at his military post.
She briskly packed her bags. "Let's go — off to find their father!"
Once at the base, she led the children in clearing land, growing vegetables, and running small side businesses. All five kids were raised plump and rosy under her care.
But six months later, Celeste Ashford stared at the two lines on the pregnancy test and fell into deep thought.
She turned to her neighbor. "Hey, um… my husband's ex-wife — didn't she go around telling everyone he couldn't perform? Wasn't that why they divorced?"
The neighbor slapped her thigh. "You bet she did! The whole military district knows about it!"
Celeste Ashford went silent.
That evening, she glared at the rugged military officer who'd just walked through the door, and slapped the pregnancy test down in front of him. "You'd better explain this to me. What exactly is going on?"
The man was at a loss for words for a long moment, then wrapped his arm around her waist with a helpless sigh. "She was the one spreading rumors everywhere — it's not like I could go around dropping my pants to prove otherwise. Besides… whether I'm capable or not, don't you already know the answer to that?"
