wake up married 6

In the Hyperion Group’s conference room, the meeting continued until Bartemius hurried in, interrupting the discussion with urgency in his steps. “Mr. Hyperion, it’s bad. Mrs. Hyperion got into a fight at the kindergarten. At least six people were involved … ” Jonathan’s face went as cold as ice. He grabbed his coat and stood, moving toward the door. “Prepare the car,” he ordered. Once the car stopped, Jonathan rushed to the teacher’s office, his expression dark and chilling. His mind had expected to find Natalie being attacked by a crowd of angry parents. But when he entered, the scene was different. A group of parents, teachers, and children huddled in a corner, sobbing. “Why are you crying? Shut it down.” With a single, icy glare, Natalie silenced the entire room. The crying stopped instantly. The parents, teachers, and children clamped their hands over their mouths, not daring to make another sound. The sudden silence was almost comical, considering the chaos just moments ago. Beside her, Yvonne massaged Natalie’s wrist with concern, her face full of sympathy. “Mommy, does it hurt?” Yvonne asked, her voice soft. Jonathan approached, his tone detached as he asked, “What happened to your wrist?” Natalie glanced at the sobbing crowd in the corner. She responded flatly, “Worn out.” Because beating the assholes up took a lot out of me. Her words hung in the air, heavy and biting. Jonathan’s face darkened, his expression turning grim. It was no longer a small conflict. The principal had arrived—clearly to reprimand someone. These parents were generous donors for the kindergarten, after all. When the principal saw Jonathan’s imposing presence, he immediately bowed respectfully. “Mr. Hyperion, what brings you here?” he asked, his voice trembling with unease. Jonathan narrowed his eyes, lips pressed into a tight line, his expression unreadable. But Bartemius knew: this was the calm before the storm. “Someone laid hands on my wife and daughter. Is that answer enough?” The principal’s pulse faltered. Panic gripped him as the magnitude of the situation set in. Jonathan Hyperion, the largest shareholder of the kindergarten, had his wife and daughter attacked. This wasn’t just a small mess; this was about to turn into a nightmare. Parents, emboldened by the tension, began to shout their demands. “Sir, you have to expel Yvonne! And Natalie—if you don’t want your daughter to be expelled, you need to bow and apologize. Beg Mr. Hyperion and all of us for forgiveness!” When Yvonne enrolled, her parent’s details had been hidden. No one knew who she really was. Jonathan turned his cold eyes toward Natalie, his voice as still as ice. “Is a simple apology enough?” Natalie didn’t flinch. She met his gaze, her tone as sharp as his. “Of course not. Make them grovel while they’re at it.” Jonathan’s hand moved slowly, a silent command. His bodyguards acted fast. They grabbed a few of the parents and forced them to kneel. Before they could even comprehend what was happening, their foreheads slammed into the floor with a bone-shaking thud. The parents were in shock. “You’ve got it wrong! We’re not the ones who should kneel—she should!” Bartemius’ voice sliced through the tension like a dagger. “You want Mrs. Hyperion to kneel? Do you think you deserve that?” The room fell deathly silent. Mrs. Hyperion? The realization hit them like a hammer. Yvonne was a Hyperion! But it was too late. Their minds raced, but the damage had already been done. Their children had been expelled. Their family businesses dragged into the mess, teetering on the edge of ruin. Jonathan’s tone remained composed. “Bartemius will take you to the hospital shortly.” Natalie blinked in confusion. “Hospital? For what?” Her gaze met Jonathan’s, and she understood the meaning in his eyes. She lifted a hand and shrugged. “My hand’s fine. I just haven’t hit anyone in a while. It’s a little sore.” Jonathan paused, a flicker of surprise crossing his face. “So, they didn’t hit you? You hit them?” Natalie’s response was casual, almost careless. “Wait, you thought they’d get the better of me?” She had gone easy on them. If she hadn’t, they’d be carried out on stretchers. Around them, the teachers and parents stood frozen, their faces etched with fear. Tears welled up in their eyes, but not a single person dared to speak. They had been backed into a corner and silenced, unable even to weep. They couldn’t even land a finger on her. Mr. Hyperion, I know you care about her, but you can’t be this unfair. As Jonathan, Natalie, and their entourage turned to leave, Jacques’ face darkened. The Oracle of Stocks needed rare blood to save her daughter. Natalie’s daughter had that blood. … That evening, at the Hyperion household, the air was thick with the scent of dinner still lingering in the air. After the meal, Natalie found Yvonne in the living room, holding a bottle of children’s body wash. “Eve, how about we take a bath?” Natalie’s voice was gentle, coaxing, filled with warmth. She’d prepared for this. She was determined to be the best mother she could be. A good mother didn’t just pick her child up from school—she bathed them, helped with homework, and offered comfort at every turn. She’d asked Christopher for advice, but he had brushed her off, as always. So now, she focused on her nice, squiggly girl. She’d do this right. “No, Mommy. I’m five now. I can bathe myself,” Yvonne replied, her voice hesitant, almost a whisper. It was unusual for her daughter to resist. Natalie thought it was just shyness, so she lifted Yvonne in her arms, making her way toward the bathroom. “Well, let’s take a mother-daughter bath together then!” Natalie said with a bright smile. But as they stepped into the bathroom, Yvonne froze, pulling away slightly. She fidgeted with her clothes, reluctant. “Mommy, I really can do it myself. How about this? I’ll scrub your back instead!” Something about Yvonne’s insistence tugged at Natalie’s instincts. It wasn’t like her to resist like this. Natalie gently held her daughter’s hand, raising her shirt to reveal the smooth skin beneath. The sight made her heart seize. Scars. Everywhere. Yvonne scrambled, flustered and desperate. “Mommy, these are all accidents! I … I did this to myself by mistake. “This burn? I spilled hot water. “This cut on my leg? I broke a glass and got hurt. “And this one on my stomach … ” Yvonne’s words faltered, her face flushing red as she tried to weave together her explanations. But Natalie didn’t need to hear any more. She saw the truth clearly. A cold realization gripped Natalie. A memory, a quiet comment from earlier in the day, flashed in her mind—something Gwendolyn had said. It hit her like a bolt of lightning. “Eve … ” She spoke softly, her voice trembling. “Tell me the truth. These wounds on your body … they’re because of me, aren’t they?” “It doesn’t hurt at all, really. It’s my fault. I’m the one who’s been bad, making you mad all the time. It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Yvonne’s voice quivered, soft as a whisper, laced with an edge of fear. She didn’t want to upset her mother. Since her mother had forgotten the past, Yvonne wanted it to stay forgotten, to keep her in the sweet, gentle world she now had. She liked the tender, calm Mommy—this version of her. Natalie’s heart ached as she heard the words. She could see it—the way her little girl was trying to soothe her. The weight of it hit her, a sharp pain that spread through her chest like wildfire. Her voice cracked, barely a whisper. “I’m so sorry, Eve. I’ll be a good mom. I’ll protect you both for the rest of my life.” Yvonne wiped away a tear, her eyes red and puffy. “Mommy … can you share a little of your love with Daddy? He’s really lonely … ” The words tugged at Natalie’s heart. She forced a soft laugh, but the pain never eased. “I’d like to, but your daddy doesn’t make it easy.” “Mommy, Daddy’s like a puppy. He’s easy to cheer up.” After the bath, Natalie carried Yvonne to her room, the warmth of her little girl filling her arms as she tucked her under the covers. Jonathan stood in the doorway, watching quietly. The tension that had coiled in the house for so long seemed to fade away. No yelling. No arguing. Just peace. The house, for the first time in a while, felt like a home. Ding-dong— The sharp sound of a text message shattered the calm. It was from Natalie’s phone. Jonathan picked it up, intending to hand it to her. But as he glanced at the screen, his gaze froze. Jacques’ flashed in bright letters. “Get over here right now, Natalie!” Below, an address blinked—a hotel.