Margaret never considered herself a good mother in the Rivera child’s heart, one worth him fighting to defend.
Besides, ever since she first took him to school, the Rivera child had forbidden her from appearing in front of his classmates, so how could he possibly care for her.
“Not you!” Charles sneered: “Then who! How many mothers can the Rivera child have!”
Margaret parted her lips, about to ask what had happened when the teacher stepped out. Pausing briefly at the sight of Margaret, he said, “Both children are physically fine. They’re just struggling to process certain things and need patient guidance.”
Inside the infirmary, a disheveled Victor turned pale when Margaret entered.
“What exactly happened?”
Charles’s jaw clenched as he demanded, “Why were you fighting!”
Victor shifted his gaze, finally murmuring, “He… Alan Carter said… said…”
“Mom abandoned us.”
Victor’s voice trailed off.
Margaret froze, staring at him in disbelief: “You’re saying I—”
“Miss Li, why hasn’t Charles Jr.’s mom arrived yet?”
A young teacher pushed the door open while setting her water cup on the desk.
Likely the kindergarten’s new staff. Margaret’s words cut off abruptly–she’d seen this teacher three times already.
She’d genuinely believed Charles still cared.
“Daddy.” Charles Jr.’s tearful voice struck her like a slap across the face: “Tell them Mommy didn’t abandon us.”
Margaret pressed her lips into a thin line, eyes darkening with thick, undiluted fury.
Do you realize what you’re saying, Charles? Who do you call mother?
Charles shrank back, subconsciously scooting closer to Charles.
“Enough.”
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Chapter 6
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Charles abruptly stood, blocking them both: “Margaret, you’re always buried in work. Do you ever consider his feel- ings? Do you ever think he needs a mother’s care? Now you’re furious? Where were you when everyone thought Charles lived in a single–parent home?”
“I-”
Margaret’s voice trembled. She could explain–how every parent–teacher conference invitation got brushed aside with excuses, how even picking him up after school meant watching him exit the gates from a distance.
She wasn’t unwilling.
But Charles wouldn’t listen: “Are you saying you’re busy? You have work?” He sneered. “What mother doesn’t have work? Why can others manage but you can’t? Why are you always invisible–in this marriage and as a parent?”
Perhaps Charles shouted too loud, frightening the child into wailing.
Charles ignored her and rushed to soothe the boy.
But his cries grew wilder, like a dam cracking under pressure.
“Daddy…” The child sniffled between hiccups, “Don’t want Mommy. Bad Mommy. Don’t want her anymore.”
Heart aching, Charles cradled him, rubbing his back while murmuring soft comforts.
This scene stunned the chubby kid nearby. He stared at the teacher and mumbled, “The Rivera child really has no mother to take care of him.”
The teacher who’d just grasped the situation froze. She covered his mouth and hurriedly pulled him out of the infir-
mary.
But it was already too late.
The Rivera child’s wails grew louder. He struggled off the bed, biting and thrashing against Margaret.
“Go away! I hate you, just leave!”
“Be good, baby. Daddy will help you.”
Charles stepped forward, heart aching. He gently wiped the tears away, then signaled his bodyguards nearby: “Handle this.”
Margaret felt ice spread through her chest. She’d never seen Charles so heartless and unreasonable.
Before she could react, Margaret was pinned down and slapped hard across the face.
Margaret, who’d always held herself high, now looked as wretched as a dog before her husband and son.
Seeing the commotion, Victor finally stopped crying.
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Charles wiped his son’s hands with a wet wipe: “Continue.”
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