Everything to His Adopted Daughter

My husband Wesley said in an interview that he had already distributed all his assets.

The host joked that he must have left a fortune for his son and wife.

He smiled gently and softly denied it:

I only left them enough money to live on.

As for the rest of my assets, I've given everything to my adopted daughter Michelle.

"This is the promise I made with her mother. I vowed at her grave that I would let her live a carefree life."

I froze while cooking for the two children, my eyes suddenly lifting to the TV screen.

The host spoke again:

"Does your wife know about this?"

He paused slightly, but his smile didn't change.

"She won't object. She's been good to Michelle all these yearsbetter than a qualified nanny."

I took off my apron and walked out of the kitchen, carrying my son Willett, who had been picking up toys for Michelle, back to his room.

Six years. I'd had enough too.

Since he didn't plan to leave anything for Willett and me, whoever wanted to be this nanny could have the job.

The interview had two parts. The other was at home.

When Wesley brought the reporters home, I had just gotten Willett to sleep.

He paid no attention to me. After taking off his coat and shaking off the cold, he picked up Michelle, who was watching TV.

He affectionately pinched her chubby cheeks.

"Did Mommy bully you today?"

This was his daily routine question.

I used to think he was joking, but today I heard a different meaning in it.

He was afraid that when he wasn't around, I would bully his beloved first love Lester's daughter.

"Mr. Wesley is so good to his adopted daughter. Miss Lester must be very happy in heaven," the host said.

Wesley's lips curved slightly. I stood to the side and coughed twice.

The atmosphere froze for a few seconds.

The host belatedly realized those words were inappropriate.

"Mrs. Wesley..."

"Lena, did you wash Michelle's school uniform clean?"

He interrupted the host, habitually ordering me around.

"I don't trust the nanny's washing. You must hand-wash it yourself."

Michelle was used to it. She walked on her short legs and stuffed all the dirty clothes she'd changed out of today into my arms.

Wesley urged, "Hurry up."

Everyone's eyes looked me over with contempt, scorn, and disdain.

In that instant, I even felt kinship with a stray dog on the street.

In Wesley's eyes, perhaps I had always been just a servant more useful than an ordinary nanny.

I hung my head in embarrassment, unable to suppress the sourness rising in my throat.

I took a deep breath and loosened my fingers.

Several dirty children's clothes dropped to the floor.

"Wesley, I won't wash them. I'm your wife, not a nanny."

He slowly furrowed his brow and glanced at me indifferently.

"Lena, what do you mean?"

"I saw your interview today."

I gathered my courage and met his eyes.

"You gave all our shared assets to someone else's child. Why?"

Wesley's gaze suddenly sharpened, his voice turning cold.

"What do you mean 'someone else's child'?"

He covered Michelle's ears as he spoke.

"Michelle is my child."

"Lena, when I brought her home to raise, I gave you a choice. You chose to take care of her yourself!"

I looked at the man in front of me, feeling my heart turn cold.

Five years ago, I was near my due date. But he disappeared for seven days and nights.

Because I couldn't find him, I went into early labor, causing our son to be born half a month premature.

Wesley only showed up after I'd given birth.

At that moment, I'd just breathed a sigh of relief, wanting to show him our son.

But he beat me to it, holding out a bundle to me first.

"Lester died in childbirth. She entrusted her child to me. From now on, this child will be our adopted daughter."

My face grew paler and paler. Wesley only paused when I struggled to sit up.

"If you can't accept this, we can also divorce."

"I'll give you and the child monthly support payments. Nothing more than that."

That was the choice he gave me back then.

Swallow my disgust and raise his first love's child, or leave with my premature son with nothing.

I wasn't willing to accept it.

I'd married him five years ago, risked half my life to give birth to a childwhy should I get nothing?

So I endured it.

But five years had passed, and he hadn't shown me or our son a trace of compassion.

His deep affection and love seemed to have died with Lester. The only remaining warmth was reserved for Lester's child.

I suddenly felt that all my years of persistence had been like performing a ridiculous comedy for him.

Ten years of love and hate seemed to vanish in his accusations that never held any trust.

I calmly met his gaze.

"Now I want to choose again. This time, I choose to leave with my son."

Wesley looked at me, a contemptuous sneer escaping his lips.

"Leave? Lena, if you leave me, can you even support yourself and the child? Go back to your room. Stop embarrassing me in front of all these people."

With that, he gave the servants a look.

Several people rushed over, grabbed my arms without a word, and pushed me toward the bedroom.

The door was locked from the outside.

The room's soundproofing wasn't great. I could still hear their discussion.

"I really don't know what Mrs. Wesley is making a fuss about. She has such a good life, but she has to make Mr. Wesley lose face in front of reporters."

"Isn't it just raising a dead woman's child? She's a parasite living off her husband's money. Can't she just endure it?"

Parasite?

When I got together with Wesley, he was still a poor guy.

I gave him all my savings to start his business.

I stayed up all night drinking and socializing for his company to close the first big deal.

And I chose to step back and become his support when he was too busy to manage his life.

But now, in everyone's eyes, I'd become a parasite dependent on him.

I slid down against the door and sat on the floor. The noise outside gradually stopped.

Wesley opened the door, and his step inside kicked me in the waist.

It didn't hurt, but it was like giving me an outlet.

Tears welled up in my eyes. Just as I was about to cry my heart out, a piece of clothing covered my head.

"Don't cry. Lena, I remember you're good at mending. Help me fix this garment."

I pulled the clothes off my head. It was a white women's blouse with slight wear at the cuffs.

My tears froze in my eyes. Now I couldn't cry anymore.

A huge sense of humiliation hit me head-on. I was so angry I wanted to laugh.

I recognized this garment.

There were two walk-in closets in this house.

One held clothes for me and the two children.

The other held clothes for Wesley and Lester.

Lester was dead, yet Wesley insisted on letting someone who didn't exist in this world leave traces in his life.

I took a deep breath and threw the clothes heavily to the ground.

"Wesley, I'm not joking with you. I've had enough of this life. Let's divorce."

I said it with certainty, but Wesley acted like he hadn't heard.

He unbuttoned his shirt and spread his arms.

"Come help me change. Hurry up. I just promised Michelle I'd tell her a bedtime story."

I walked up to him but didn't move.

I just repeated very softly.

"I'm leaving with the child."

This time, he finally looked at me properly.

The undisguised contempt in his eyes hurt me all over.

"Just tell me what you want to buy this time. Lena, I've told you countless timesif you want something in the future, just tell me directly. Don't play these ridiculous roundabout games."

As he spoke, he pulled out a card and stuffed it into my collar.

"This should be enough for you to spend for a while."

With that, he changed his clothes himself, pushed past me, and went to Michelle's bedroom.

The bank card hit the floor with a clack. I stared at it for a long time before laughing at myself.

So in his eyes, I really was no different from a nanny who needed to be paid off with money.

I wiped away the tears about to fall, turned around, and went to Willett's room.

He was awake, staring blankly at nothing.

Hearing me open the door, he turned his head, his mouth pouting pitifully.

"Mom, did you fight with Dad again?"

I shook my head.

"Not really, but Mom wants to separate from Dad. Will you come with me?"

My son's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Mom, I'm just like you. I'm not happy here at all."

"Every time Michelle gets upset, Dad scowls and scolds me. If Michelle and I want the same thing, Dad will only buy it for Michelle. The toys I play with now, the books I readthey're all things Michelle didn't want and threw to me."

He counted on his fingers, his lowered voice somewhat excited.

"If we leave here, will my things be only mine from now on?"

My eyes grew intensely sore.

My son should have been cherished by everyone, but he'd been forced to live in Wesley's favoritism all along.

He wasn't happy. The last reason I had for maintaining this marriage was gone.

This divorceWesley and I were definitely going through with it.

After discussing the terms of the divorce agreement with my lawyer, I slept in Willett's room.

I'd barely closed my eyes when the door was violently pushed open.

Wesley, his face pale, forcefully pulled me from the bed.

"Michelle has a high fever. What do I do?"

This was one of his rare moments of panic.

I instinctively glanced at Willett, who was sleeping soundly, and tiptoed out.

After making sure Willett's door was firmly closed, I turned to Wesley.

"Physical cooling, call the nanny, go to the hospital."

"Why are you calling me? I'm not a doctor."

Impatience surfaced in his eyes, but for Michelle's sake, he had to endure it.

"Lena, you raised Michelle. No one understands her condition better than you."

"She's burning up really badly right now."

"Can you not be so cold-blooded?"

The description "cold-blooded" rolled through my mind.

I laughed coldly.

If I were truly cold-blooded, his beloved Michelle would have died three years ago.

Perhaps taking after her mother, Michelle had an allergic constitution.

Children are greedy. She ate a few lemon candies when the adults weren't paying attention.

The red rash almost instantly crawled across her skin. Soon her fair face turned blue and purple.

I checked the home surveillance from time to time. When I saw Michelle collapsed on the floor, gasping in pain, I nearly went crazy with fear.

I ran more than a dozen red lights and even crashed into a guardrail on the way.

Dragging my bloody body home, I gave her allergy medicine and called an ambulance before passing out from the pain.

The hospital ambulance took both of us away.

I had a severe concussion and three broken ribs.

It took a month before I could get out of bed. And during that month, Wesley never came to see me once.

Later I broke down and demanded to know why.

Wesley glanced at me indifferently.

"You didn't die, did you?"

"You're a grown woman who can't even drive properly. Whose fault is it when something happens?"

"Michelle's condition was more serious. She hasn't been able to eat properly for days."

"By the way, hurry up and get discharged. Michelle says she wants to eat your cooking."

He was always like this.

When he needed me, I could be a doctor, a cook, a nanny for his household.

Just never his respected and beloved wife.

I said nothing and walked into Michelle's room.

Her face was flushed red with fever.

I took off her clothes and wiped her palms and neck with alcohol, then found fever medicine and fed it to her.

The fever subsided quickly. The moment she opened her eyes, Wesley pushed me aside and picked up Michelle.

"You scared Daddy to death."

"Do you still feel bad?"

Michelle's gaze was still somewhat dazed, but she instinctively hugged Wesley's neck.

In her sweet voice: "Daddy, thank you for taking care of me. You worked hard."

"Not hard at all. As long as you're healthy, I'll do anything."

I stood to the side, smiling until tears fell.

Hearing my voice, the father and daughter turned to look at me.

I stared at Michelle.

"Michelle, I'm the one who took care of you. What did he work hard at?"

"These five years, I've cared for and loved you like a daughter. What did he work hard at?"

"Working hard at missing the mother who died giving birth to you?"

Wesley's expression cracked inch by inch.

The anger on his face could almost burn down the entire world.

"Lena, have you lost your mind?"

He covered Michelle's ears and glared at me furiously.

I calmed down and tugged at the corner of my mouth.

"I've just thought things through."

"Wesley, someone will deliver the divorce papers to your office."

Leaving that room that made me sick, my heart suddenly felt lighter.

Actually, I'd had enough years ago.

I started packing overnight.

Wesley was truly angry. After coaxing Michelle to sleep, he went straight back to his room.

He habitually ignored me, just as he had throughout these years of marriage.

I'd also gotten used to his indifference.

After packing my and my son's belongings, I went to the study.

When the company was first established, I held quite a few initial shares.

Even though Wesley had deliberately diluted them later, the shares I held were enough to overturn the balance of power in the company.

After taking out what belonged to me, I found a drawer full of letters.

I randomly opened one. They were all letters he'd written to Lester.

In every letter, he mentioned my son and me.

Seeing the content inside, I finally understood the reason for his favoritism.

"I'm raising our daughter very well. Don't worry, I won't let Lena and her son bully our daughter."

"Michelle can say 'mama' now. Every night I hold up your photo and tell her you're her real mother."

"Lena is just a live-in nanny taking care of her."

Every sentence, every word was like a blade stabbing into my heart.

The fact that Michelle was his biological daughter made my stomach churn. I felt so sick I bent over and dry-heaved.

Through thick and thin together until now, I'd given everything.

Ten years of marriage, but it was full of lies.

Suppressing intense nausea, I photographed all the letters that could serve as evidence.

Then I tore them up one by one. As shredded paper scattered across the floor, Wesley pushed the door open.

His expression changed, but it all turned into the annoyance and disgust that settled between his brows.

"Lena, where are your manners?"

"Who told you to touch my things?"

I looked at him calmly.

His frown deepened. "What are you looking at? Why aren't you going to take care of Michelle?"

In my hand, I still clutched the last letter he'd written yesterday.

In that letter, he'd even arranged to be buried with Lester after death.

Smiling, I slowly and firmly tore the last letter into pieces before his eyes.

"Wesley, I wish you and Lester happiness and harmony in your future days. May your family of three be blissful forever."

"I'll fulfill your perfect love story. I wish you an early reunion."