Chapter 2
Charles brought me back to his enormous, echoing mansion.
The moment he set me down, he vanished without a trace.
After the housekeeper gave me a bath, she took me to my room.
I flopped onto the soft, spacious bed.
I hadn't even started enjoying it yet when the comments suddenly erupted in panic.
[Alert! Why is Charles holding a knife?]
[No! FYI. That message telling you to die wasn't sent by Andrea. It was Donald's friend. Man, this guy is such an agent of chaos!]
[Oh! So that's why he goes from a "new dad" to suicidal in five minutes.]
[Alas, Charles who can't have his love still ends up killing himself. He just tosses away tens of billions of dollars like nothing.]
I sprang up in bed, wide awake.
Wait. Did they just say tens of billions of dollars?
Oh, hell no. That was my future inheritance he was about to waste!
Bare as the day I was born, I bolted out of my room.
I tore down the hallway, howling my head off the whole way.
My cries were loud enough to wake the dead.
The comments were in a panic.
[The kid's on the move. Go, baby, go. Last door at the end of the hall!]
I shot over like a rocket, dropped down at the doorway, and started screaming my head off, kicking and rolling all over the floor in a full-blown meltdown.
No adult could withstand that noise for more than three minutes.
I hadn't even gotten my fill of rolling around yet when the door burst open with a bang.
Charles stood there, his eyes gloomy and intense, dripping wet, blood trailing down from his fingertips.
He looked like a drenched, haunted specter fresh from hell.
"Stop that infernal noise!" he snapped.
When he saw me rolling on the floor, his pale, sharp features twisted with fury, veins bulging on his forehead.
"Are you staging a mutiny here?" he barked.
I jumped up and hugged him tight, tilting my little face up as tears rolled down my cheeks.
"Waaah, I need Daddy!" I wailed.
Charles froze for a moment.
I looked up at him, anxious and scared. "Daddy, don't you like me?"
My crying wouldn't stop, and he frowned, awkwardly muttering, "No, that's not true."
"Hug," I sniffled.
I kept crying, my arms stretched out, looking up at him, hoping he'd finally give in and hug me.
Charles was on the verge of a headache from all my wailing. Reluctantly, he wrapped up his bleeding wrist, kept that icy look on his face, and picked me up.
Thirty minutes later, he had me tucked under the covers.
Without a word, he turned and walked out, that legendary deadpan mask still firmly in place.
Just as I was about to breathe a sigh of relief, the comments blew up again.
[Oh no, baby, keep crying. Your dad's about to buy sleeping pills online!]
[Baby, if you don't give your dad something to do, you're about to lose your golden ticket as a rich heiress.]
Are you kidding me? I'd screamed my lungs out for nothing?
Fine. If that's how it was, I'd go all in. I let out a wail so loud it could shatter glass.
Charles rubbed his temples and groaned, "What is it now?"
Just as his patience was about to run out, I went full-on cute mode with zero shame and pleaded, "Daddy, I'm hungry."
Seeing me about to burst into tears again, he instinctively panicked and hurriedly put his phone away.
He hated having anyone else in the house, so the housekeeper had left right after my bath.
That meant he had to do it himself.
I clung to him like a little shadow, sticking to his side every step he took.
He picked me up and set me down on the living room couch, telling me to wait there.
But the moment he turned his back, I scampered right after him, trailing behind him once more.
Charles was utterly defeated. He'd gotten so chill from my antics, it was almost creepy how nothing seemed to bother him anymore.
He opened the fridge and asked, "Do you want some pasta?"
Without thinking, I blurted out, "Will that be enough for me?"
Charles paused for a moment, then added a few extra handfuls of pasta to the pot.
He set a heaping plate of pasta with vegetables and a fried egg in front of me. I was practically drooling. I grabbed my fork and started shoveling it in.
For a split second, his face softened. "Slow down. It's hot."
Guess I was just scared of going hungry.
With food right in front of me, I was desperate. I just stuffed it into my mouth as fast as I could.
By the time I hit my second plate, the moment I swallowed, I immediately hurled all over the place.
I was puking so hard, it felt like the whole world was spinning.
Charles totally panicked, fumbling around, not knowing what to do.
I curled up clutching my stomach, cold sweat soaking me, tears stinging my eyes from the pain. That old fear of dying came crashing back over me.
"Daddy, my stomach hurts so badly. Am I dying?" I whimpered, clutching my belly.
Charles raced me to the hospital. In my dizzy haze, I started babbling what felt like my last words.
"Daddy, can you give me a name?" I asked weakly, my voice trembling.
"I don't have one yet. I want a name that means I'll be safe and happy," I pleaded.
Through my hazy eyes, I caught a glimpse of Charles' hands shaking uncontrollably.