Chapter 3

The harmonious atmosphere made it seem like my daughter and I had mistakenly entered someone else's home.

"Charlotte..."

Ethan stood up abruptly, striding to the door to take my bag.

"Melissa's landlord suddenly sold the house and kicked them out."

"They couldn't find a place to stay on short notice. Do you think they could stay here temporarily..."

I didn't respond. I just watched as the servants moved my and my daughter's belongings, item by item, into the storage room.

Melissa spoke weakly, though her expression couldn't hide her smugness.

"Sorry, Charlotte. My health isn't great, so I can only stay in rooms with good lighting and ventilation. Ethan gave me the master bedroom."

My daughter's room had also been taken over by Oliver.

Her favorite doll had been thrown out by Oliver, its arms and legs broken off.

Ethan suddenly looked a bit guilty.

"Charlotte, if you don't agree, I can also find them another place..."

"I agree."

I held out my hand to him.

"The rent is the same as before, but the rental fee for living in my house and your companionship tax need to be calculated separately."

"Smack."

Ethan hurled my bag violently to the floor, his face dark as ink.

"Charlotte, have you lost your mind?"

"What kind of crazy talk is this in front of the children?"

I could only laugh coldly.

He was the one who brought another woman and her child into this house, yet he blamed me for being shameless for pointing it out.

Ethan pulled Melissa and her son toward the door.

As he passed me, he threw a bank card at my face.

"Five million! Is that enough?"

"Too proud to accept kindness—you might as well just marry money!"

After the house finally quieted down, my daughter dabbed at my face with tissues, sniffling.

Only then did I realize the bank card had cut my cheek, drawing blood.

"Mom, it's all because I'm sick. That's why Dad treats you badly every day."

I held my daughter tightly.

"Mom's not upset. Once you're better after surgery, Mom will be happy..."

My daughter, who always insisted on bedtime stories from her father, fell asleep in my arms with tears still on her face.

Looking at her furrowed brow, my heart ached as if it had been run over.

When had our once happy family of three become like this?

Was it after Melissa's husband died, when Ethan went over night after night to comfort her, afraid she might do something drastic?

He went so frequently that paparazzi mistook his own home for an affair location.

Was it when Ethan worried that Oliver would be bullied at school for not having a father, and attended every single one of his parent-teacher conferences without fail?

He never missed Children's Day or birthday parties either.

This caused my daughter to be treated as a mistress's child, bullied relentlessly at school.

Was it when my daughter had her first heart attack and fainted, and I called Ethan countless times but the line was always busy?

When I finally rushed to the hospital, I was told all the doctors had been reassigned to treat Oliver's scraped knee.

My daughter's heart stopped three times. I bowed until my head bled before finally stopping a doctor who barely managed to save her life.

I took a deep breath and packed our belongings.

Holding my sleeping daughter, I left that unrecognizable home without any attachment.

After settling into our new place for a week, Ethan hadn't sent a single message.

But Melissa's messages kept coming.

All of them forwarded news reports about their outings, as if afraid I wouldn't see them.

Expressionless, I clicked them open. They'd gone to every place my daughter and I had wanted to visit.

Even the media outlet reporting on them was the same one that had covered my and Ethan's wedding of the century.

"Sorry, Charlotte. I told Ethan to pay the paparazzi to take down the news, but he insisted you have plenty of money."

"Since this started because of me, how about I sell the jewelry and bags Ethan bought me to help you take down the news?"

Melissa sneakily photographed the gifts Ethan had given her, trying to provoke me.

After all, in the past, seeing these things would have sent me rushing to Melissa's place to smash and shred everything.

Now I simply replied lightly, "I'd appreciate that."

Melissa's typing indicator showed for a long time, but no new message came.

Just when I thought they might finally quiet down, ten million dollars suddenly appeared in my account.

The moment I saw the note attached, all the blood in my body seemed to flow backward!