My daughter, growing a bit impatient, asked to be held before continuing, "Daddy said I could help save the little sister."
"Do you want to save the little sister?" I asked.
She hesitated this time before saying, "I want to save her, but the blood draw hurt so much. I kept crying, and Daddy held me down."
I comforted her, saying, "It's okay. Mommy will think of something."
She nodded.
I turned off the recording, naturally not intending to send it to my in-laws.
A granddaughter is precious, but can she be more important than a son? Even if they now cherish their granddaughter, with enough explanations from their son, this matter will eventually be downplayed.
I won't allow that.
As for divorce, it's not an option now. No one will get off easy.
I called Max, and he was surprised to hear from me. He answered quickly.
"What's wrong, honey?" he asked solicitously.
"Send the driver to pick me up. I want to go to the hospital to see Zoey."
There was silence on the other end.
I continued, "You took Chloe to the hospital for a blood test all by yourself, but kept Zoey so tightly wrapped up, didn't you?"
Max finally spoke, "She's undergoing chemotherapy. She doesn't even know... that she's an illegitimate child."
This man never ceased to amaze me. First, the mistress came knocking with a ten-year-old daughter, insisting that she was an accident, and now it turns out Zoey doesn't even know she's an illegitimate child.
Clearly, as a father, he hadn't neglected her company.
I reiterated, "Now, send the driver to pick me up."
Max was still hesitant, "Why are you doing this? Why do you insist on seeing her?"
"Well, you're still my husband in name, and since she's your daughter, I suppose I ought to meet her, shouldn't I?"
Max said, "You..."
Half an hour later, he showed up downstairs, his face sour.
I pretended not to notice and got into the car, my expression even darker than his.
We tacitly agreed not to mention the divorce.
I just didn't mention it now. After all, every penny he spent on them still counts as marital assets, and I would make sure she pays back every bit of it.
When we arrived at the hospital, Max, seemingly afraid that I might cause a scene, cautiously said, "Zoey is undergoing chemotherapy now. If you're angry, don't take it out on the child."
I ignored him. His words made it sound like I couldn't tell right from wrong.
He kept insisting that it wasn't the child's fault.