Chapter 4

"Mason, Daisy's private elementary school interview is this weekend. The school requires both parents to attend, or she'll be disqualified..."

"I'm begging you, please pretend to be my husband for half a day, okay? Just half a day! I'm getting on my knees! If you're not there, Daisy's whole life will be ruined!"

Mason was silent for a long time, then said in a low voice, "Send me the address."

This was his so-called unavoidable business trip excuse.

"Annie, are you listening?"

On the other end of the line, Mason asked again when I didn't respond.

"I heard you."

My tone was strangely calm.

Mason seemed relieved. Then my phone dinged—a transfer of two hundred thousand dollars.

"Honey, take George to buy the most expensive birthday present. Consider it my way of making it up to him. Wait for me to come back."

He hung up.

Looking at the string of numbers on my screen, I pulled at the corner of my mouth.

That weekend, on George's sixth birthday.

I took him to the mall, wanting to buy him a children's watch he'd been eyeing for a while.

Coming out of the mall, right across the street was the city's private elementary school.

George had been looking down, fiddling with the toy in his hands, when suddenly his movements stopped.

He looked up, staring blankly across the street.

A black Bentley was parked at the school gate.

Mason stepped out of the car in a suit and tie. He took the hand of a little girl in a pink dress.

On the other side of the girl stood Mia, beaming.

A happy family of three.

Just then, Mia tried to loop her arm through Mason's.

Mason coldly avoided her.

I could even see his lips move slightly, as if warning her about something.

But this self-righteous claim of innocence looked utterly ridiculous in this moment.

Shortly after, my phone buzzed.

Mia had posted on Ins, tagged at this very private school.

—Thank you for being here. You're our eternal support, mother and daughter.

I turned to look at George.

Through the traffic, George watched with his own eyes as his father, who was supposed to be on a business trip, played father to someone else.

He had no dramatic reaction. He simply walked over and silently threw the toy he'd just bought into a nearby trash can.

After we got home, George took out his calendar with the countdown from his backpack and picked up a black crayon, flipping to the birthday page.

Originally, that square had a smiley face and stick figures of a family of three.

George gripped the pen and forcefully colored that square pitch black. The black ink bled through to the back of the page.

"George..."

My eyes stung. I crouched down, wanting to hug him.

George looked up. Those clear eyes were now filled with darkness.

"Mom, I'm never celebrating my birthday again."

I silently picked up my phone and called an overseas immigration agency I'd contacted before.

That evening at eight, Mason came home early.

He pushed open the door to find the house dark, the table completely bare.

His gaze swept over where the birthday cake should have been, his expression faltering.

He flipped on the living room light with a click, looking at me sitting on the sofa.

"Annie, it's George's birthday today and you didn't even buy him a cake?"

He said in a low voice, "If you want to get mad, take it out on me. Is it appropriate to use a child's birthday to make a point?"

Mason pulled at his tie and strode up to me. His gaze swept over the empty dining table, his eyes unconsciously evasive.

"I know I shouldn't have missed today, but the sudden business trip was out of my hands."