After Mom Died, the Tycoon Father Lost His Mind

Mom went to the hospital for a check-up. When she came back, she often cried over a piece of paper. I secretly took that paper to Dad.

Dad tore it to shreds, roaring at her, How long are you going to keep up this 'playing sick' act? Are you using our child now too?

He slammed the door and left. I crawled into bed and hugged Mom, crying, "Mommy, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have gone to Daddy."

Mom said nothing. She just wiped away my tears and smiled gently at me.

Later, Mom really died.

And my father, the aloof CEO who never loved her, held her lifeless body, crying like a madman.

Mom hadn't spoken to me for a long time. No matter what I said to her, she ignored me. I could only curl up on the sofa by myself, playing with my building blocks. When I was hungry, I'd eat snacks and fruit from the fridge.

I really wanted to call Dad. But Moms phone was dead. After I charged it and turned it on, it asked for a password. I didn't know Mom's password. So, I just waited for Dad to call us.

But in my heart, I knew. Dad wouldn't call us. He didn't want us anymore. He had been living with Aunt Serena.

The last time I saw him was when he brought Aunt Serena's daughter, Bethany, to our kindergarten sports day. Seeing him, I was so excited. I hadn't seen Daddy in such a long, long time. I wanted to rush over and yell, "Daddy! Daddy!"

But Mom pulled me back. She said, "Sweetheart, that's not your daddy. You're mistaken."

How could that be? That was my daddy. I couldn't be mistaken. I still wanted to call out, but Mom picked me up and carried me to a quiet corner. I huddled in her arms, watching Daddy hold Bethany the whole time. He wiped her sweat, gave her water, and tore open a chocolate bar, feeding it into her mouth.

When Bethany fell and scraped her knee, Daddy immediately ran over, checked her injury, and asked tenderly, "Does it hurt? Come on, let me blow on it, make the boo-boos fly away."

Bethany wailed, stretching her arms out to my daddy. "It hurts! Hug me! I want a hug!"

Daddy picked her up. He gently wiped the tears from her face with his finger, whispering comforting words to her. I heard him say he was taking her for a hamburger.

I understood. I was mistaken. That wasn't my daddy.

My daddy rarely hugged me. He had never taken me for a hamburger.

Once, I fell on the street, and I couldn't help it, tears just streamed down my face. I looked at Daddy pitifully, reaching out my hands, timidly saying, "Hug."

I saw him frown, then turn to Mom. "How do you raise your daughter? Crying over every little thing. Children shouldn't be so delicate."

I didn't understand Daddy's words. But I could tell he was scolding Mom. Was it because I fell? Or because I cried? I quickly wiped away my tears, gritted my teeth against the pain, and stood up by myself. I walked in front of Mom, spread my arms, and shielded her.

"I don't hurt, I don't hurt at all, Daddy, please don't scold Mom anymore, please."

Daddy glanced at me, said nothing, and turned away. I looked up at Mom, wanting her to praise me. Tears welled in her eyes. She pinched my cheek and said, "I'm sorry, my precious, Mommy has failed you."

My teacher taught us that only those who do wrong need to say "I'm sorry." I shook my head and said very seriously, "Mommy, you're not sorry."

Because the one who did wrong was never my mommy.

My daddy rarely came home. Every time he did, he would argue with Mom.

The last time he came home, I had gotten a gold star at kindergarten, and Mom rewarded me by buying me a hamburger. The moment Daddy opened the door, he swept all the hamburgers off the table.

"I'm not home, and you feed her this junk food every day? Is this how you take care of our daughter?"

I was terrified, hugging Mom and crying. Mom gently wiped away my tears, telling me not to be scared. She said, "You misunderstood, this is just..."

"I don't need to hear your explanations." Daddy was very impatient, cutting Mom off. He threw a thick document at Mom and said, "Here's the divorce agreement. Take a look, just sign it."

"This house is yours, the car is yours, the child..."

"I want our child!"

Mom hugged me tightly. She gripped my shoulders, and it hurt a little. But I didn't struggle, because I could feel Mom's fingers trembling. She must have been very scared. I hugged Mom back, very tightly, wanting to give her strength.

"Your house, your car, your moneyI can give it all up. I only want Skylar. She is my daughter."

Daddy stared at her for a moment, then suddenly laughed. It was a cold, uncomfortable laugh. "Eleanor Montgomery, what new trick have you learned now? Playing the doting mother, using the child to threaten me?"

A rare flicker of anger crossed Mom's usually gentle face. She turned her head away, not looking at Daddy. "I'm not threatening you. I just want my daughter."

"What would our daughter do with you? Eat this junk food every day?"

I didn't understand what they were talking about. But I knew what divorce meant. Sam, a boy from kindergarten, told us his mom and dad divorced, and he lived with his daddy. Some naughty children teased him, "Your mommy doesn't want you anymore! You don't have a mommy!"

Sam cried terribly. I offered him a piece of taffy that Mom had tucked into my pocket. I comforted him, "Don't cry. Your mommy won't abandon you."

But he cried even harder, yelling, "They divorced! They don't want me anymore! I don't have a mommy or daddy anymore!"

I was scared by him. And I started crying too. Now, I remembered that. I burst into tears.

"I don't want you to divorce! I want my mommy and daddy! I want my mommy and daddy!"

Mom was heartbroken. She cried with me, holding me tight. Daddy froze, then grew even angrier, his brows furrowed in impatience. "Eleanor Montgomery, what nonsense are you teaching her every day? So many schemes at such a young age. Do you think using the child to control me will stop me from divorcing you?"

Mom looked up, her face filled with an anger I'd never seen before. "Richard Reed, I forbid you to speak about my daughter like that! Apologize to my daughter!"

"What 'your' daughter? Eleanor Montgomery, I will absolutely not let our daughter stay with you. Don't dream about it."

Once again, Daddy slammed the door and left.

Mom's phone rang. It was Daddy. I ran over, wanting to pick it up. It only rang once before he hung up. I gently shook Mom in bed. "Mommy! It's Daddy's call! Daddy's coming for us!"

Mom didn't react.

That's right. Every time Daddy came home, he argued with Mom. It was only natural that she didn't like him coming back.

I tucked Mom in properly. Then I sat obediently on the sofa, waiting for Daddy to come home.

Daddy arrived very quickly. The key turned in the lock. I stood up impatiently and ran to the door. Daddy opened it, saw me, and paused. "Where's your mom?"

"Mommy's in the room..."

"Never mind. I have nothing to say to her anyway. Skylar, go change your clothes and come out with me."

"Daddy..."

I couldn't stop him. He was already at the elevator, smoking a cigarette. Mom hated the smell of smoke. Daddy never smoked inside the house. Before, when his friends came over, he would always make them go outside to smoke. "Go outside to smoke, my wife can't stand the smell."

At times like that, his friends would laugh and say, "Richard really spoils his wife, doesn't he?" "Yes, I envy Eleanor." And Mom would always blush, saying, "It's fine, just smoke inside, don't make them go out." Daddy would put his arm around Mom's waist, stop her, and kiss her. "Don't worry about them, let them go outside. Let's see who dares to smoke in front of my wife."

They had once been very much in love. What broke all of that? Was it me? Was it because I always clamored for hamburgers? Was it because I always cried over the smallest things? Was it because I wouldn't let them divorce? Was it because I wanted to fight Bethany for Daddy?

Was it my fault? Was that why Daddy hated Mom?

Mommy, I'm sorry. It seems I messed everything up.

I couldn't pull up the zipper on my dress. I patted Mom on the bed. "Mommy, help me zip it up. I can't reach."

Mom still didn't respond to me. Was I too disobedient? Now, even Mom didn't want me anymore? I felt a little scared and didn't dare wear that white dress. I changed into another outfit.

When I walked out of the house, Daddy saw me and frowned. "How does your mother take care of you? Doesn't she know to buy you new clothes?"

No. It's not like that.

Mommy is very good to me. I just couldn't wear that dress. I screamed this inside my head. But I didn't dare say a word. I was afraid that if I spoke, Daddy would dislike me even more.

Daddy took me to kindergarten. The teacher was happy to see Daddy. When she saw me, her expression was a little strange. "Hello, Miss Albright. Could you please call Bethany Hastings out?"

"Certainly, Mr. Reed. One moment, please."

Bethany came out quickly. Seeing my daddy, she was delighted, skipping over and throwing herself into his arms. "Daddy!" I quietly took a step back.

My daddy patted her cheek and said, "Good girl." When he looked at me, his smile vanished. His face hardened. "Skylar Reed, did you fight Bethany?"

"No, I didn't." I shook my head. It wasn't a fight. I just snatched her hairpin.

"Still lying?" Daddy frowned, his voice much colder. "Is this how your mother teaches you? Bullying other children and then lying, not daring to admit it? You disappoint me greatly."

I didn't understand what Daddy meant. But I could deeply feel that he disliked me very much now. My nose stung, and I felt like crying again, but then I heard him roar at me.

"Don't you dare cry!" "Crying over every little thing! How can you be my daughter!"

I tried not to cry, but I just couldn't help it. By the end, I felt like I couldn't breathe. It was the kindergarten teacher who came over and patted my back. "Skylar, breathe, quickly, breathe."

But I didn't dare breathe. If I breathed, I wouldn't be able to stop crying.

Daddy sighed, didn't scold me anymore. "Apologize to Bethany." I opened my mouth, using all my strength to control myself from crying. I whispered, "I'm sorry."

"Louder."

"I'M SORRY!"

Tears streamed down my face. My vision blurred. I couldn't see anything. Daddy still wasn't satisfied. He asked me, "What did you do wrong?"

"I shouldn't have snatched her things, Daddy, I was wrong, please don't hate me."

Daddy ignored me. He just took Bethany's hand and turned to me. "Come inside with me." He tried to pull me into the classroom. The teacher tried to reason with him. "Mr. Reed, please, they're just children. It's normal for them to have little squabbles."

"She did something wrong, and she has to pay the price. Skylar Reed, come inside with me."

I sniffled, following Daddy's footsteps. He interrupted the teacher who was giving a lesson. He made me apologize to Bethany in front of all my classmates. I looked at Bethany, who he held in his arms. She was wearing a new hairpin on her head. It was even prettier than the last one. I knew it must have been another gift from my daddy.

And I, I was wearing old clothes. My hair was messy, and I looked a complete wreck.

No, I couldn't be like this. I couldn't embarrass Mom.

I wiped the tears from my face and said, "I'm sorry."

"Louder." Daddy's voice was cold and indifferent, nothing like the tenderness he used when speaking to Bethany.

"I'M SORRY!"

"What did you do wrong?" He looked at me, like a judge, not my father.

"I'M SORRY! BETHANY HASTINGS! I shouldn't have snatched your things! I was wrong! Please forgive me!"

After I said it, the tears wouldn't stop anymore. I burst into loud sobs. Daddy frowned, about to scold me, but the teacher noticed something was wrong and came to hug me. And I, I just saw black, and fell backward. Before my eyes closed, I saw my daddy's impatient expression. He was still holding Bethany. He didn't want to come over and check on me at all.

I woke up in the hospital. The doctor said I was malnourished and needed an IV drip. Daddy was very unhappy. "Is this how your mother takes care of you?"

He kept calling Mom, but she didn't answer a single call. He was furious. He asked me, "What has your mother been doing at home lately?"

I thought about it, not daring to tell the truth. "Mommy cooks for me every day, takes me out to play, buys me new clothes. She's very good to me, Daddy, please don't scold her anymore."

"Lying at such a young age. Your mother has really ruined you." He told Mr. Davies, his assistant, "Go back to the house, bring Eleanor Montgomery here. I want to see how she's raising our daughter."

Mr. Davies was about to leave when Daddy received a call from Aunt Serena. "Richard, where are you? Come back quickly, Bethany has a fever, she's calling for her daddy!"

Daddy was in a hurry. He called out to Mr. Davies. "Give me the car keys. You can take a taxi to send her home." Then, he was about to leave.

"Daddy..." I called out to him.

He paused for a second. "Skylar, you go home first, listen to Mr. Davies. Daddy will come find you in a couple of days."

He was lying. He would never come find me.

Mr. Davies took me home. He didn't come inside. After I got home, I ran into the house to find Mom. Mom was still asleep. She really slept a lot. The Mom I knew before wasn't like this. She rarely rested; she was either cleaning the house, playing with me, or taking care of Daddy. Every night, I would also beg her to tell me a story. Daddy would always squeeze in and say, "I'll tell her. You've had a long day, go to sleep."

"No need, I'll do it."

"Sweetheart, be a good girl, go rest." Daddy would kiss her. Mom would push him away, glance at me, and say, "Our daughter is watching!"

"What's wrong with that? What's wrong with me kissing my own wife?" Mom could never argue with him, and would always blush and run off.

After Mom left, Daddy would put on a stern face. He would poke my nose, deliberately scaring me, saying, "Skylar, don't you dare bully my wife, you hear?" But I knew Daddy wouldn't actually hurt me. I would giggle, bury myself in his arms, and say, "Daddy, tell me a story! Daddy, tell me a story!" He would laugh too, holding me, and say, "What do you want to hear? Daddy will tell you."

Accompanied by Daddy's gentle voice, I would soon fall asleep.

It had been a very, very long time since I heard Daddy tell me stories. Now, even Mom didn't tell me stories.

I hugged Mom's arm. There was a strange smell on her, like the smell I sometimes caught when passing by a garbage truck. I kept calling her, crying, my voice growing louder and louder. I cried until I was tired, and then I fell asleep.

When I woke up, Mom still hadn't woken up.

Mommy, you're really so sleepy.