“You agreed just yesterday, and today I’ve already brought the baby home. Don’t be too touched—from now on, you’ll be his mother!”
Daniel stood proudly in front of me, chest puffed out.
A surge of fury rose inside me; I had to take several deep breaths to hold it back.
Turning my head toward him in disbelief, I asked:
“You actually dared to bring him home?”
Daniel didn’t notice the change in my expression and kept rambling excitedly:
“I did my research. Black babies are the smartest. If you raise him from the start, he’ll definitely grow up grateful and loyal to you!”
“From now on, hand the company over to me and just focus on raising our child at home!”
His selfish calculations were written all over his face.
I finally lost control and slapped him hard across his cheek.
“Are you out of your damn mind?”
“Why should I raise someone else’s unwanted bastard?”
Daniel was stunned by the slap.
It took him a while to react.
Then he frowned, looking at me like I was being unreasonable:
“Don’t call him a bastard—it sounds so harsh. He just doesn’t have a father, that’s all!”
“And besides,” Daniel continued, “you’ve never been able to have kids. So what’s wrong with me adopting one? At least I didn’t mess around outside!”
So, in his mind, my infertility was the problem.
But when we first got married, I did have a child.
Unfortunately, that was when Daniel was diagnosed with liver cancer. To donate part of my liver to save him, I had to terminate the pregnancy even though the baby was already formed.
That damaged my health, making it hard for me to conceive again.
Seeing my cold expression, Daniel finally realized he had said the wrong thing.
“Sweetheart, I didn’t mean it like that. If you can’t accept this, I’ll take the baby back for now. When you come around, we can decide again.”
Afraid of angering me further, Daniel quickly packed up the box and carried the baby away.
Not long after, the devil-avatar girl messaged again:
“Well? Don’t you think my baby looks a lot like his dad?”
My grip on the phone tightened as her taunting words stabbed my heart.
I was almost certain now—this was Daniel’s mistress.
Compelled by a dark impulse, I tapped into her social media feed.
The first post showed a glittering sapphire necklace worth millions.
The caption read:
“Thanks, darling. You know I don’t want to raise a kid, so you sent him to your nagging wife instead! You said this necklace was my compensation.”