Chapter 1
Our daughter’s happiest moment was opening her eyes to see her dad lying beside her.
Each time, I would force a smile and pretend we were a loving couple, letting her feel the warmth of family.
But this time, I was truly exhausted.
“What is this crap? Mr. Shaw loves my voice the most. You’re trying to fob me off with rice porridge?” The mistress’s shrill voice made me frown.
“Go deal with your little plaything,” I said coldly.
Lucas pressed against my back, his husky voice still tinged with desire. “She’s not as important as you.”
“Mia will wake up soon. Smile, darling,” he whispered.
I kicked him off the bed. “Lucas Shaw, what’s the point of all this?”
His expression darkened as he grabbed my chin, eyes menacing. “Olivia Sanders, I can tolerate your little tantrums, but my patience has limits.”
“Don’t do these pointless things to wear away my love for you.”
My heart turned to ice. He seemed like a stranger to me now.
From school uniforms to wedding dresses, our love had been passionate and intense.
He knew he was my everything, my salvation. He knew I could never leave him.
So he took advantage of my love and acted without restraint.
A knock at the door, and the woman’s coquettish voice called out:
“Mr. Shaw, I hand-washed your underwear. I don’t trust anyone else to do it.”
Lucas’s eyes flashed with panic, complex emotions crossing his face.
He wasn’t usually so careless, but she had been especially clingy last night, making him forget his boundaries.
“I’ll handle it,” he said.
He leaned down to kiss me, but I turned away.
Lucas’s face darkened, about to lose his temper when our daughter woke up.
She looked at her dad’s face with delight, then frowned slightly.
“Daddy, were you going to hit Mommy?”
I quickly pushed him away and picked up our daughter to comfort her.
“No, sweetie. Daddy was just joking around with Mommy.”
Lucas awkwardly turned away, his tone cold. “She’s not a baby anymore. She should sleep in her own room from now on.”
He had always been like this - his patience with our daughter limited to a morning smile, never even wanting to hold her.
But was his patience, his love for our daughter, real? Or just guilt towards me?
To punish me for not cooperating, Lucas broke his rule of not letting women stay for breakfast.
They were all over each other at the table, making me sick to my stomach.
Our daughter watched them enviously, saying softly:
“Mommy, I want Daddy to hold me while I eat too.”
Tears sprang to my eyes. “How about Mommy holds you instead?”
“No,” the little girl said, eyes full of longing. “I want Daddy.”
Faced with our daughter’s expectation, I reluctantly asked Lucas to look at her.
The mistress laughed coyly. “Oh, is big sister jealous?”
“You’re a mother now, using your child to get attention? If it were me, I’d never play such mind games in front of a child.”
Lucas’s face darkened. “You’ve raised her with no manners, so petty and small-minded.”
The servants looked at us, their eyes full of mockery.
Our daughter was young, but she could read the mood. She burst into loud sobs.
“Daddy’s mean! I don’t want Daddy anymore!”
Lucas’s expression changed drastically. He picked her up and headed for the basement.
“Since your mother can’t teach you properly, I’ll do it myself.”