I looked down to see Candice standing in front of me. She wore a pink dress that made her look like a little princess. 

“Mommy Yvonne told me to tell you that it’s time to cut the cake,” she said coldly as if she were talking to a stranger. 

“Thank you for letting me know.” I knelt, hoping to get closer. 

However, she immediately took a step back. 

“Mommy Yvonne said you must stand far away and not ruin today’s mood.” 

My heart ached at the fact that my five-year-old daughter was repeating another woman’s venom as if it were gospel. 

I whispered, “Candice, I just want to tell you…” 

“I don’t want to hear it!” she said, interrupting me, her little face full of impatience. “You always make Mommy Yvonne unhappy. I hate you!” 

After saying that, she turned and ran away, shouting, “Mommy Yvonne! Mommy Yvonne!” 

“Poor Kathleen, even her own daughter doesn’t want her,” someone nearby whispered. 

“Well, she’s always busy with work. Yvonne is so much better. She’s always there for the child.” 

My hand holding the champagne glass trembled slightly. It was not because of the gossip but because of what Candice had said. 

“I hate you!”