When she returned, Janet looked much better and had returned the money to the two of them, regaining her confident demeanor.

It was soon the weekend. I had planned to go back and tell my mom that someone was using my dad's name to deceive college students, and it happened to be my classmate.

As I walked towards my car and touched the door, Janet, Flora, and Thea rushed out, pushed me aside, and got into the car.

Crazy.

I coldly said, "Get out of the car. I don't have time to play house with you."

Janet sat in the passenger seat, smiled ambiguously at the driver, Carl, and said, "Baby, your daughter already knows about us. We don't have to hide anymore. I'm not feeling well. Take me to the hospital. Our son misses you."

I was startled. This... Mr. Jones?

This actually made sense. Carl's surname was Jones. His wife, Aunt Helen, was my family's nanny. I didn't like Carl much, thought he was slick, but Aunt Helen had taken care of me since I was a child. That's why we gave him this job. Fortunately, there had never been any mishaps at work.

I thought carefully.

There were indeed a few times I met Janet when getting out of Carl's car. Could that be it? Did she misunderstand?

The show was on. I certainly wouldn't expose it now. I tilted my head and looked at Carl. "Are you sure you want to take her to the hospital and not take me home?"

Carl looked at me, then at Janet, and finally his eyes rested on Janet's belly. He gritted his teeth and said, "Bella... you... you go home by yourself. I... I have something to do."

Bella?

Those two words made me realize that Carl was deliberately pretending to be my dad.

Janet's expression was wonderful, as if she saw through my lie. Flora and Thea, sitting in the back, were shocked by the car's decorations, discussing how much it must cost.

Carl didn't explain further and drove away from me.

I tried calling him, at least to get my car back, but Carl not only refused to answer but also blocked me.

Forget it, I wouldn't go back this weekend.

I found a nearby hotel and booked a suite.

It wasn't until the evening that Carl called to explain.

His voice was low and muffled, as if in a confined space, "Miss, today's incident was my fault. Please don't tell Mr. Jones."

I coldly laughed, "Miss? Not Bella?"