Chapter 4

On the second day, I was keeping vigil outside the ICU for my son, my mind drifted back to three years ago.

My father had passed away, and the Goodwin family was in complete chaos.

Business partners were hounding us for payments, competitors were trying to steal our business, and those small companies that usually kept their heads down were trying to take advantage of the situation.

The funeral wasn't over before the creditors showed up at the funeral hall.

It was Richard who stepped up.

That day, he showed up in a black suit, stood guard at the door for me, and with a few words, put the troublemakers in their place.

Later, he helped me steady a few key projects, buying the Goodwin family some breathing room.

Back then, I honestly thought he was there to help me up when I was down.

Everyone in the Quinn family said I hit the jackpot. The Goodwin heiress, about to lose everything, married the Quinn heir. That was a total turnaround.

During the first year of our marriage, Richard really treated me well.

He'd go with me to prenatal checkups, have the kitchen cook for me in the middle of the night when my morning sickness was bad, and when I couldn't sleep because of my dad, he'd hold me and say, "Don't worry, I've got you."

I really wanted to make things work.

But then, in the second year, Anna came back from abroad.

At first, her name kept coming up in Richard's conversations. "Anna got back, and she's not familiar with a lot of things. I should go help her out.

"Anna's health is fragile. She can't be left alone.

"Anna's not in a good place right now. I need to check on her."

Then, it turned into his car parked outside the villa on the south side of town at night, the scent of perfume lingering on his collar, and his excuses got lazier and lazier.

I wasn't exactly quiet about it.

One time, I sat in the living room with the divorce papers, waiting for him until four in the morning.

When Richard finally came home, he didn't bother to look at the divorce papers. He rubbed his temples, exhausted. "Charlotte, stop making a scene."

*****

The next day, his mother called me over. She took her time sipping coffee, then told me, "It's normal for a man to have affairs.

"You've already given him a son, so your stake in the Quinn family is secure. You need to think long-term. Don't tear the family apart. It won't do anyone any good."

That was when I finally understood.

The Quinn family never treated me like one of their own.

What they really cared about was the shipping line the Goodwin family controlled in Northwave, the ties I brought with me, and the heir I gave them.

To them, feelings were the least valuable thing of all.

So after that, I stopped fighting back.

I started focusing everything on my son, telling myself that as long as he could grow up safe and sound, maybe everything else wouldn't matter so much.

But they wouldn't let me have that.

I pulled out my phone and dialed up my lawyer. "Mr. Lawson, I'm ready to file for divorce."

Dean Lawson sounded stunned. "Ms. Goodwin, you mean right now?"

"Yes, right now," I replied.

I laid out my demands one by one. "First, secure all evidence of injuries to my son and me as legal proof.

"Second, apply for injunctive relief and asset preservation orders.

"Third, prepare for divorce and custody proceedings.

"Fourth, collect all public records related to Quinn Corporation's charity, foundation, and logistics projects from the past three years."

There was a brief silence on the other end. "How much should we put for the asset freeze?" he asked.

I looked up at the numbers on the monitor, enunciating each word. "100 billion dollars, plus control of Quinn Corporation."

Dean sucked in a breath. "Ms. Goodwin, this is going to tear things apart."

"That's exactly what I want," I replied.

Not long after I hung up, the door to the hospital room swung open.

Richard walked in, hand clutching the leash of that dog.

I stared at the brand-new collar around the dog's neck and couldn't stop myself from laughing.

My son was still unconscious in the hospital bed, and Richard actually brought the dog that attacked him straight into the hospital.

"What the hell are you trying to do?" I snapped.

Richard handed the leash off to someone waiting outside, his voice edged with impatience. "Anna refuses to be separated from it. The vet said it's not doing well, so I brought it along to check on it."

I stared at him. "This is the ICU."

"I know," Richard replied, frowning. "I didn't bring it in."

He finished speaking and set the gift on the table, like he finally remembered what he was supposed to be doing. "Once our son wakes up, have him shoot a video."

I thought I must've misheard him. "What kind of video?"

"He needs to apologize to Anna," Richard said, like it was the most normal thing in the world. "And to the dog as well. Public opinion is blowing up right now. If we can put a lid on this, it's better for everyone."

I slowly stood up, my left hand gripping the edge of the bed as I stared at him. "Are you seriously asking a six-year-old who had brain surgery to apologize to a dog?"

"Don't put it that way," Richard's face darkened. "The Quinn family's stock is tanking, and everyone at the company is scrambling to fix this. If our son shows his face and says it was all a misunderstanding, this whole mess will blow over."

"Blow over?" I shot back.

"Charlotte, you need to watch yourself," Richard said.

I looked at him, and suddenly, I felt so tired. "Richard, I used to wonder how you could always play favorites.

"Now I get it. In your eyes, my son and I were never the ones you wanted to protect."

Richard was about to say something when my son suddenly stirred in his hospital bed.

I turned quickly and hurried to his bedside.

He slowly opened his eyes, his gaze still unfocused. When he saw me, his lips moved. "Mom."

My eyes suddenly felt hot. I bent down and whispered, "I'm here."

Then he saw Richard standing behind me, and he visibly shrank back.

He gripped the blanket, his voice shaking. "Dad, don't kick me."

The room fell silent.

Richard's expression froze, and after a long pause, he finally asked quietly, "What are you afraid of?"

My son's tears spilled over, and he repeated, sobbing, "You kicked me."

Just then, the door to the hospital room swung open again.

Anna walked in, carrying a box of supplements, her eyes red and swollen like she'd been crying.

As soon as she saw my son awake, she rushed over, her voice soft and gentle. "Sweetie, I'm so glad you're awake. I was really scared that day, too.

"Actually, my dog was frightened as well. How about you both say sorry to each other, okay?"

I looked up at her, said nothing, and with my left hand quietly pressed the recorder I'd set up by the bed.

Anna kept going. "I'm not blaming you, sweetheart. Your dad's been under a lot of stress lately, and the company's a mess. If you behave yourself, everything will be so much easier for everyone."

Richard, as if reminded, loosened his tie, his voice growing colder. "Charlotte, don't teach our son to be so embarrassing. He's a Quinn. Apologizing to Anna's dog isn't anything to be ashamed of."

I listened, then slowly smiled. "Not ashamed?"

Richard frowned. "What's so funny?"

I picked up the recorder and looked at him. "Say that again."