Chapter 4

After discussing the terms of the divorce agreement with my lawyer, I slept in Willett's room.

I'd barely closed my eyes when the door was violently pushed open.

Wesley, his face pale, forcefully pulled me from the bed.

"Michelle has a high fever. What do I do?"

This was one of his rare moments of panic.

I instinctively glanced at Willett, who was sleeping soundly, and tiptoed out.

After making sure Willett's door was firmly closed, I turned to Wesley.

"Physical cooling, call the nanny, go to the hospital."

"Why are you calling me? I'm not a doctor."

Impatience surfaced in his eyes, but for Michelle's sake, he had to endure it.

"Lena, you raised Michelle. No one understands her condition better than you."

"She's burning up really badly right now."

"Can you not be so cold-blooded?"

The description "cold-blooded" rolled through my mind.

I laughed coldly.

If I were truly cold-blooded, his beloved Michelle would have died three years ago.

Perhaps taking after her mother, Michelle had an allergic constitution.

Children are greedy. She ate a few lemon candies when the adults weren't paying attention.

The red rash almost instantly crawled across her skin. Soon her fair face turned blue and purple.

I checked the home surveillance from time to time. When I saw Michelle collapsed on the floor, gasping in pain, I nearly went crazy with fear.

I ran more than a dozen red lights and even crashed into a guardrail on the way.

Dragging my bloody body home, I gave her allergy medicine and called an ambulance before passing out from the pain.

The hospital ambulance took both of us away.

I had a severe concussion and three broken ribs.

It took a month before I could get out of bed. And during that month, Wesley never came to see me once.

Later I broke down and demanded to know why.

Wesley glanced at me indifferently.

"You didn't die, did you?"

"You're a grown woman who can't even drive properly. Whose fault is it when something happens?"

"Michelle's condition was more serious. She hasn't been able to eat properly for days."

"By the way, hurry up and get discharged. Michelle says she wants to eat your cooking."

He was always like this.

When he needed me, I could be a doctor, a cook, a nanny for his household.

Just never his respected and beloved wife.

I said nothing and walked into Michelle's room.

Her face was flushed red with fever.

I took off her clothes and wiped her palms and neck with alcohol, then found fever medicine and fed it to her.

The fever subsided quickly. The moment she opened her eyes, Wesley pushed me aside and picked up Michelle.

"You scared Daddy to death."

"Do you still feel bad?"

Michelle's gaze was still somewhat dazed, but she instinctively hugged Wesley's neck.

In her sweet voice: "Daddy, thank you for taking care of me. You worked hard."

"Not hard at all. As long as you're healthy, I'll do anything."

I stood to the side, smiling until tears fell.

Hearing my voice, the father and daughter turned to look at me.

I stared at Michelle.

"Michelle, I'm the one who took care of you. What did he work hard at?"

"These five years, I've cared for and loved you like a daughter. What did he work hard at?"

"Working hard at missing the mother who died giving birth to you?"

Wesley's expression cracked inch by inch.

The anger on his face could almost burn down the entire world.

"Lena, have you lost your mind?"

He covered Michelle's ears and glared at me furiously.

I calmed down and tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I've just thought things through."

"Wesley, someone will deliver the divorce papers to your office."