But he didn’t even glance at me.

“I’m sorry, Madam, I can’t pay without the master’s permission.” Desperate, I held Lily and asked around until a maid finally said,

“Mr. Harrison went out with Ms. Reynolds and her son.”

“Lily, hold on, don’t fall asleep.” I cried, clutching my daughter while frantically searching on my phone.

As the richest man in China, he was always trailed by paparazzi.

Sure enough, it was right there on social media.

A headline from ten minutes ago read:

[CEO Harrison splurges, books entire luxury restaurant for his first love’s son’s birthday!]

The window was open, and a cold gust of wind pierced through me.

I felt frozen to the core.

So Michael wasn’t forgetful after all.

He remembered his first love’s son’s birthday—but forgot that three days ago was Lily’s.

I had only bought her a pair of cheap hair clips from a roadside stall and forgot to report it. Because of that, Lily and I were locked in the basement.

Michael always claimed he feared poverty and was strict about money management.

Aside from control, he gave us everything—mansions, cars, and the best schools.

But without a report, we couldn’t spend a cent.

My daughter was so hungry she began to foam in her mouth.

Looking at this enormous mansion and the servants whispering among themselves, I felt like we were trapped in a beautiful gilded cage—beautiful, yet starving to death inside.

Rain began to pour outside,

and Lily’s condition worsened.

Clenching my teeth, I carried her and ran for half an hour before reaching the hotel.

After explaining that I was Michael’s wife,

the lobby manager gave me a strange look but still led us upstairs.

Michael was dining on the rooftop with Victoria and her son.

As the elevator doors opened,

Victoria’s son spotted us.

With a sneer, he raised his cola can and hurled it at Lily’s face.

“Where did this beggar come from!!” he shouted.

Cola splashed all over her; pale and trembling, she whispered, “Mommy, I want to go home.”

Seeing us, Michael frowned and strode over. “Who told you to come here? You’re filthy and disgraceful!”

“Yes,” I said bitterly, “we were locked up for three days. We needed permission even to take a shower. But you weren’t home.”

He didn’t even notice Lily’s pallor; his face was filled with disgust.

“Go home now, don’t embarrass me here!”

“I’ll go. I won’t disturb you three again. But before I leave, please sign a note for the housekeeper so I can buy food for Lily.”

His face darkened. “What family of three? We’re not—”

I cut him off. “I just want a cake, some pork belly Lily loves, and glucose.”

Before he could respond, Victoria’s son suddenly lunged forward,

smashing the remaining cake onto the table with a loud crash!

It splattered across Lily’s face.

“You filthy beggar! Who do you think you are, eating Uncle Harrison’s cake!”

My daughter, already weak, was cut on the forehead by a shard from the cake plate.

After three days of hunger, she collapsed completely.

“Lily!” I cried, scooping her into my arms, my heart breaking.

Looking at Michael, who stood frozen, fury surged through me like fire.

“Bastard! How dare you eat like that!” I screamed, overturning their table!

Victoria, who had been watching the scene unfold, suddenly screamed. Her eyes reddened, her voice trembling with tears.

“Michael, look at her! My son and I have never eaten such good food, and she’s wasting it like this!”

Michael rushed over to shield her, shouting at me,

“Emily Carter! Have you lost your mind as a rich wife?! Victoria and Ethan Reynolds have suffered enough at her ex-husband’s house. I just wanted to treat them to a nice meal! How dare you flip the table?”

“Don’t blame her, Michael,” Victoria sobbed softly. “It’s not that I deserve good food.”

The more she spoke, the more distressed Michael became.

His face turned dark as he called over the manager and pointed at us.

“Take them both to the kitchen. Make them hand-wash every dish used today! They’re not leaving until it’s done! If you let them go, I won’t pay for this private event!”

The private event costs at least 70,000 dollars. Hearing that, the manager nervously surrounded me and Lily with his staff.

I looked up, eyes full of hatred.

“Michael, are you insane?! Lily has low blood sugar! At least let her eat something!”

Lily lay limp on the ground, too weak from hunger to move.

But Michael shoved me aside and, still protecting Victoria, said coldly,

“Why are you wasting food like this? When you finish washing, you can pick from the trash if you want to eat.”

He seemed about to say more, but I had already lifted Lily, her forehead still bleeding, and turned to follow the manager.

Michael called after me, “If you apologize to Victoria and Ethan—”

“No need.” We wouldn’t be family much longer anyway.

I finished that thought silently and left without looking back.

In the kitchen, I washed dishes alone with my unconscious daughter on my back.

Perhaps out of spite, Victoria kept ordering dish after dish—huge platters that required countless bowls and utensils. There had already been two or three hundred plates, but she continued all night.

I washed from 6 p.m. until midnight, Lily clinging weakly to me.

Then another large basket of dishes was brought in.

The manager, pitying me, whispered, “That lady treated all the restaurant staff to a bowl of birthday noodles.”

We didn’t finish until 3 a.m.

The restaurant owner, unable to stand seeing my misery, stopped me as he was leaving.

He packed a lunchbox and handed it over. “Thank you for your hard work. Give this to the child.”

All day, the only person who showed us kindness was a stranger.

I swallowed my tears and thanked him.

Outside by the flowerbed, I opened the lunchbox and fed Lily spoonful by spoonful.

After eating, her pale face regained a hint of color, though she was still weak.

Her small head rested against my shoulder as she whispered,

“I’m sorry, Mommy. I made you suffer. I don’t want that hair clip anymore.”

She was only five, yet she understood everything.

Hearing her soft apology felt like my heart was soaked in acid.

“It’s okay, Lily. It’s not your fault.” I comforted her and carried her all the way home.

As soon as I opened the door, Michael, who had been sitting on the sofa with his head propped up, stood abruptly.

“Why are you only coming back now?” He approached, holding a cake, a trace of regret on his face.

“It was our daughter’s birthday the day before yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me? The housekeeper mentioned it.”

I lowered my eyes.

What else was there to say?

The Michael of the past remembered every special day—

Lily’s birthday, our 500th day, our 1000th day anniversary.

Even on days I forgot—our first kiss. On the day we signed our names—he always prepared surprises for us.

But now, he no longer held us, mother and daughter, in his heart.

When I stayed silent, Michael handed the cake to Lily with forced warmth.

“Look, Lily, don’t you love cake the most?”

Our daughter, who once adored her father, flinched and pushed him away.

She was terrified—still remembering being hit with a cake by Victoria’s son.

Michael’s face darkened. He turned on me angrily.

“Look what you’ve done to her! If she won’t even eat cake, what’s the point of having good food? Victoria was right—you deserved to wash those dishes!”

“Do you know why Lily’s crying?” I said calmly. “Because that cake is what Victoria’s son left behind.”

At once, Michael panicked.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. Lily, Daddy didn’t mean it.”

He wanted to say more, but I tiredly led Lily back to our room.

“Remember to sign the divorce papers.”

My words seemed to ignite his fury.

He smashed the cake and grabbed my wrist. “Enough already! It’s just a cake—why can’t she eat it?”

I couldn’t hold back anymore and shouted,

“It’s blueberry cake! Our daughter is allergic to blueberries—do you want her to die?”

Michael froze.

“I forgot. I’m sorry, it was my mistake. But I won’t agree to a divorce. I’ll take you both to celebrate her birthday now, alright?”

He pulled us along, calling to book a private room.

Just then, Victoria emerged from the hallway, clutching her stomach in pain.

“Michael, it hurts!” she whimpered.

Michael instantly let go of me.

The faint smile that had just appeared on Lily’s face disappeared.

I held her close, watching as he rushed to lift Victoria into his arms.

“Yaoyao’s cramps must’ve flared up. When it’s bad, she vomits and faints—it could be dangerous. I can’t ignore her.”

I stayed silent as he hurried off to get the car.

Only Lily, Victoria, and I remained in the lobby.

Victoria deliberately exposed the hickeys to her chest and crossed her arms, sneering.

“You’re just a useless, worn-out woman. What right do you have to cling to Michael? No wonder he doesn’t touch you—he says you smell old.”

“I’m three years younger and prettier than you. Do you know how crazy he gets with me?”

“If you had any dignity, you’d leave.”

“Don’t worry,” I said coldly. “I have no interest in breaking up that scumbag and bitch.”

Her face twisted in rage, and she slapped me hard. “Who are you calling a bitch?!”

“Don’t touch my mother!” Lily rushed in front of me—

but Victoria stumbled backward and fell down the stairs.

Michael, hearing her scream, burst in just as she hit the floor.

Victoria pointed at Lily, crying pitifully. I instantly understood what she was doing.

But before I could speak, Michael struck me across the face.

“What did Victoria ever do to you? Why can’t you stand her?! You even made Lily hit her, you heartless woman!”

“Lily didn’t! We didn’t touch her!” I cried, but Michael didn’t believe me—while Victoria clung to him, sobbing.