Chapter 4
The day the invitation to the Foster family banquet arrived at the Sullivan house, my mother slammed it on the coffee table in front of my father.
“Olivia must go,” she said, her nails almost digging into the leather sofa. “My daughter is not some dirty secret to be hidden away.”
My father frowned, looking at the child in my arms. Sophia immediately chimed in with her sweet voice, “Auntie, won’t it be more embarrassing if sister brings the child?”
“Shut up!” my mother snapped, then turned to my father, her eyes red, “Sullivan, search your conscience. What exactly has Olivia done wrong? Is it her fault she was abandoned? Is it her fault she’s raising a child alone?”
My father remained silent for a long time, finally turning his face away, “Do as you please.”
I bit my lip hard until I tasted blood.
My child seemed to sense my emotions, his little hand clutching tightly at the hem of my clothes, his big eyes full of unease.
On the night of the banquet, my mother chose a dark green velvet gown for me.
As she styled my hair, her fingers trembled slightly, “Olivia, hold your head high tonight. You’ve done nothing wrong.”
I looked at myself in the mirror, forcing a smile onto my pale face.
My child, dressed in a little suit, lay on my lap looking up at me, “Mommy, are we going to see Daddy?”
My heart suddenly clenched.
“Little Bean,” I knelt down to adjust his bow tie, my voice barely audible, “If… if Daddy doesn’t recognize us, don’t be sad, okay?”
He nodded innocently, but in his clear eyes, I saw my own reflection full of nervousness and anxiety.
The Foster family mansion was brightly lit.
As soon as we stepped into the banquet hall, I heard a familiar deep voice coming from the direction of the balcony.
“She’s nothing but a gold digger,” Ethan’s voice was full of contempt. “Bringing a child of unknown origin, thinking she can latch onto the Foster family. How laughable.”
I froze in place, my blood instantly turning to ice.
My mother angrily wanted to rush over, but I held her wrist tightly, shaking my head.
“I heard the child looks like someone from the Foster family?” someone asked curiously.
Ethan let out a cold laugh, “I’ve seen this trick many times. Mark was right to break off the engagement. Who knows how many men she’s been with…”
His words suddenly stopped.
Because I had walked out from behind a Roman column, holding my child’s hand.
Under the crystal chandelier, Ethan’s wine glass shattered on the marble floor.
He stared at me intently, his pupils contracting violently, cracks appearing for the first time on that usually composed face.