Realizing things were going south, Nini’s mom didn’t argue and hurriedly left with the child.
But the courtyard kept buzzing with arguments, so Charles ordered their past surveillance footage pulled up.
Only then did Barbara realize the villa had countless cameras installed.
Her face turned ghostly pale.
When the video blew up on the TV screen, Barbara finally collapsed to the floor.
Even the girl’s cruel acts toward Margaret got exposed.
“Daddy…”
The girl hugged Charles‘ waist, sobbing at the sight of that long–lost face: “I was wrong, Daddy. I miss Mom. Let’s go find her.”
“Aunt Barbara said you’d divorced ages ago, that she’d be my new mom soon. I don’t want that…”
Charles never expected the news he’d kept tightly under wraps would leak.
“Not only do I know you’re divorced, but I know you drove her away yourself, Charles. If you don’t leave me a way out, then we-”
Slap! Before she could finish, a heavy blow struck her face.
Charles‘ blazing eyes seemed to scorch her: “Throw her out! She takes nothing bought with the Smiths‘ money–it all belongs to my son.”
Barbara gaped in disbelief: “Charles, have you lost your mind? You hit me over that bitch!”
“Shut up!” Charles snapped. “I meant to hit you.”
With one sharp glance from him, nearby bodyguards advanced. Every bone in Barbara’s body screamed as recent nightmares flooded back. She dropped to her knees, begging for mercy.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Charles, I know I was wrong…”
The house staff had long despised Barbara’s attitude, but with the master favoring her, they’d held back. Now with this chance to retaliate, they moved with astonishing speed.
The jewelry and handbags Barbara had cherished were now stuffed into a ragged sack, resembling a pile of trash ready for disposal.
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Chapter 23
“You bastard. You’ll regret this.”
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Barbara rose, hauling the sack as she spat her final threat before turning away: “You’re just a pathetic loser I discarded -don’t think Margaret will take you back if you go crawling back.”
The villa door slammed shut with a thunderous crash. Only after a long silence did the oppressive atmosphere around Charles begin to lift.
Charles held Jin close, resting his chin on the boy’s head without a word.
After a long silence, Jin mumbled against his chest, “I’m sorry, Dad. I know I was wrong.”
He hugged Charles tighter, voice cracking, “Dad… has Mom really abandoned us?”
Charles instinctively shook his head, yet Margaret’s resolute silhouette walking away flashed through his mind. Prob- ably yes.
Even unconvinced himself, he soothed his son softly, “Of course not.”
“She’d move mountains for you. How could she ever leave you?”
“Then why won’t she come back?”
Jin craned his neck, tear–streaked cheeks glistening.
“She’s just… been away on a long business trip. You know how busy Mom is.”
Charles tried to reassure Johnson with a smile, but his lips curved without warmth.
Servants led Johnson away, leaving Charles alone on the garden swing.
Much later, he pulled out his phone and called his father: “Find out where Margaret is.”
After hanging up, Charles stared blankly at Margaret’s name on facebook.
Their chat window was always filled with her long messages, met only by his simple “Hmm.”
Back then, Margaret meant nothing to him–weeks could pass without a single word.
Now they communicated less and less.
Looking back, Margaret’s disappointment in herself probably started then.
His attitude affected Johnson too. The child grew increasingly hostile toward her, smashing Margaret’s head bloody and openly denying their relationship.
Margaret kept getting disappointed precisely because she tolerated all this.
Rushing to expand overseas channels, Margaret didn’t conceal her whereabouts. Soon the Rivera family sent photos.
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Chapter 23
Charles stood dumbfounded.
“This can’t be her.”
He spoke softly, yet everyone nearby heard clearly: “It’s been verified.”
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The assistant glanced at Charles. “Sir, Ms. Lewis has shifted her work focus overseas. She’s doing quite well. Some- one snapped this yesterday outside that bakery.”
In the photo, Margaret sat at the entrance of a small shop, cradling a five or six–year–old girl in her arms, her eyes ra- diating a tenderness Margaret had never possessed.
