Chapter 1
My daughter Emma's poor nutrition left her with a weak immune system—she often felt faint, and I was really worried.
I wanted to take her to the hospital for a check-up, but my husband, Charles Whitmore, shot down the idea.
"It's normal for kids to feel dizzy sometimes. We're on a tight budget now. Don't blow this out of proportion!"
We ended up in a heated argument, and he stormed out, slamming the door.
Emma weakly wrapped her little fingers around mine, her pale face snuggling into my arms.
She whispered, "Mommy, if I didn't feel dizzy, would Daddy stop arguing with you?"
I cradled her gently and took her to the hospital alone.
I was stunned when the doctor said Emma had sepsis.
I didn't have any money left for her to stay in the hospital.
After we got on the bus to head home, Emma and I both stared out the window.
And there was Charles, driving a Lamborghini convertible, out for a spin with another woman.
*****
For a brief moment, I almost doubted my own eyes, wondering if I had taken someone else for Charles.
Emma's frail cough yanked me back to reality.
"Mommy, is that Daddy?" Emma asked.
As soon as Emma asked that, someone behind us couldn't help but snicker.
"Hey, little girl, do you even know how much that car costs? That's a Lamborghini, worth millions! If your dad was really that rich, why would he let you and your mom ride the bus?" the guy teased.
The people around us all joined in, laughing. Emma and I just fell silent.
Millions—it was a figure I couldn't even count.
Emma kept counting on her fingers, lost in thought. Then she just stared out the window, not saying another word.
She knew deep down that the man in that car was her dad.
He was the kind of dad who never even gave her a 20-dollar doll—not once.
The Lamborghini tore down the street, so fast that it didn't even leave a shadow behind.
Honestly, seeing him with a fancy car wasn't surprising at all.
Seven years was a long time—so long that I nearly forgot Charles came from old money.
If his father hadn't died in that accident and his uncle hadn't kicked him out, I never would've ended up taking him in, let alone marrying him.
But when did he go back to being that rich heir again?
And I, living side by side with him every day, hadn't noticed a thing.
I watched as Emma bit her lip and trembled, just so I wouldn't worry.
My heart ached as I pulled her close.
When we got off the bus, I stumbled as I held Emma, feeling numb and hollow while we made our way back to our cramped little apartment.
When I set Emma down, her forehead was slick with cold sweat. She forced a smile at me, but blood instantly stained her lips.
I was hurriedly wiping blood from the edge of Emma's mouth when the sound of the door made me jump.
As soon as Emma saw it was Charles, she smiled and chirped, sweet as ever, "Daddy, you're home. Mommy took me to the hospital today, and we—"
But before she could finish her sentence, Charles cut her off, his voice cool and distant.
"Don't bother me with insignificant stuff like that."
Tears shimmered in Emma's eyes, but she forced them back.
She knew that crying never helped. She knew her dad hated seeing her cry.
If she cried, it'd just make her dad and mom fight again.
"This isn't something insignificant," I replied, my voice unwavering. "Emma has sepsis. She needs to be hospitalized."
It was the first time I'd ever spoken to Charles with such seriousness.
His eyes flashed with surprise.
"Sepsis? Look, I know expenses have been piling up lately. I'll get some money home soon."
"Emma's still a kid. This is an important stage for her. You really shouldn't be teaching her to lie," he snapped.
I was so angry that I literally couldn't get a word out; I just stood there shaking.
But before I could say anything, Emma stepped in front of me, her tiny frame trying to shield me.
"Mommy's not lying, Daddy. I really don't feel well," Emma said, voice trembling.
Charles swept a chilly, indifferent gaze over the two of us, then gave a low, perfunctory grunt.
"I'll go to the hospital with you when I get the chance. Things have just been hectic for me," he replied, tone icy and distant.
Emma ignored the words "when I get the chance"; in her ears, all that mattered was that Dad said he'd go with us.
Emma darted over, wrapping herself around Charles' leg and grinning up at me.
"Mommy, did you hear? Daddy said he'll go to the hospital with us. You don't have to worry about me anymore," Emma squeaked, her face lit up with pure joy.
Actually, I'd already started looking up the new divorce laws on my phone while we were riding the bus.
But seeing Emma's cheerful smile, I knew she was still so attached to her dad.
I closed the browser, offered her a soft smile, and nodded gently.
"I heard you, sweetheart."
But even when Emma collapsed at kindergarten and the teacher called Charles first, he didn't pick up.