In a fit of rage, I shouted, "What nonsense are you guys talking about? Logan is the homewrecker here! That boy is the illegitimate child, not my Nancy!"

A few snickers rippled through the crowd.

A pot-bellied man swirled his drink and scoffed. "Everyone knows Mr. Stone and Ms. Gibson have been together for years. He's her right-hand man—it's common knowledge!"

Another woman chimed in. "They have a solid relationship. If you ask me, I bet this young man just saw her wealth and came here looking for a payout."

I turned to Claire and demanded coldly, "Claire, tell them who I am."

At last, Claire spoke.

With an apologetic smile, she stepped toward the guests. "Please excuse the scene. This is our male housekeeper. He's a bit into over-the-top power fantasy novels and tends to blur reality with fiction."

She turned to me, her gaze sharp with warning. "Take your daughter home, Joe. Don't make a spectacle of yourself here."

It felt like a lightning strike. I couldn't believe that the woman I had shared a bed with for 12 years would pin such a ridiculous identity on me, right in front of everyone.

Seeing that Claire was backing him up, Logan felt a surge of confidence and acted bolder.

"I get it, Joe. Being a single dad isn't easy. Still, you can't pull a stunt like this. How about this—you head back now, and I'll have the butler process an extra three months of salary for you."

Laughter broke out among the guests.

"So, he's just a delusional housekeeper. That's ridiculous! People will really do anything for money these days, huh?"

"That girl looks pitiful, though, with the kind of father she has."

"Kids raised like that always know how to play the victim. Don't be fooled. They're not as innocent as they look."

Logan smiled with satisfaction. He crouched down beside the boy, Caleb Stone, and said, "See this, Caleb? You have to study hard, or you'll end up embarrassing yourself like that man there."

Caleb lifted his chin, his eyes carrying a sharpness far beyond his years. "Hey, bastard. Why are you arguing with my dad?"

He reached out and shoved me. Caught off guard, I stumbled back a couple of steps, nearly losing my footing along with Nancy.

Caleb carried himself like a pampered young heir, full of misplaced confidence.

"My dad said I'll get to inherit Gibson Group one day. You scrawny, bastard girl—you think you can take away my dad just like that? One day, you'll end up just like your dad, working for others your whole life!"

The guests' laughter grew even harsher, with some even clapping in approval.

"Mr. Stone Junior here has ambition! He's going places for sure!"

Just then, a few hotel staff in uniforms passed by carrying trays. One of them was the manager who had received me.

The moment he saw me, he deliberately raised his voice and said to his colleague, "Well, if it isn't the gentleman who booked a birthday party package, only to find he didn't even have 500 dollars on his card.

"I said it back then—some people like to put on a show they can't afford. In the end, they can only leave in embarrassment."

A mocking laugh slipped from Logan's lips. "Couldn't even come up with 500 dollars? No wonder he's making a scene here."

The pot-bellied man from earlier staggered over, his gaze lingering in a way that made my skin crawl. His tone turned suggestive.

"You know, for someone working as a housekeeper, you're actually quite handsome. Your girl looks like a bright one too. Things don't seem to be working out for you here. Why not come with me instead?

"I'll give you three thousand dollars a month and cover the living expenses for both you and your daughter. What do you say?"

The pot-bellied man added, "I mean, at least you won't have to worry about not having 500 dollars in your pockets anymore. You know, a good wash and he’s still good."

The moment those words landed, the crowd burst into even louder laughter.

Someone egged him on, "Wow, Mr. Zimmerman, you're being generous! But aren't you kinda overpaying? Is three thousand really the going rate these days?"

Holding Claire in his arms, Logan joined in with the others, clearly enjoying the spectacle.

I raised my voice, unable to hold back any longer. "Claire, are you just going to let them humiliate Nancy and me like that?"

Claire looked at me without a trace of emotion, as if I were nothing more than a stranger. Only after the laughter began to die down did she finally speak, albeit rather impatiently.

"Stop embarrassing yourself, Joe. Today is my son's birthday. Take your daughter elsewhere, or I'll have security escort you out."

Nancy trembled even harder in my arms. She clutched my clothes tightly as she buried her face against my chest, too afraid to look at the hostile faces around us.

"Dad, is what they're saying true?"

Hearing the fear and disbelief in her voice, I felt like my heart had been ripped out of my chest. After 12 years of marriage, this was what things had come to—a public humiliation in front of a room full of people.

"No, Nancy, it's not true at all."

I covered Nancy's ears, a bitter weight settling in my chest. How was I supposed to explain any of this to her?

Back when Claire had just started her business, we were squeezed into an office space no bigger than 100 square feet.

The company couldn't afford to hire staff, so I handled whatever needed to be done, from administration tasks to bookkeeping and order follow-ups.

To help her bring in clients, I swallowed my pride and reached out to every connection I had, calling in favors from friends and relatives alike.

I still remembered the day Claire landed her first major client. She was so excited that she kissed me, then used the company's first earnings to buy me a suit.

Watching how happy she was, I never told her that the client had actually been an old friend of my uncle's.

Later, after Nancy was born, the company gradually found its footing. I couldn't bear to see Claire juggling both work and the baby, so I suggested staying home to take care of our daughter.

Back then, she had made a promise. "I'm a career woman, after all. I'll take care of you and Nancy from now on."

Yet, now…

I lowered my head and looked at the T-shirt I had been wearing for three years. Claire, meanwhile, was dressed head-to-toe in designer brands. Logan stood beside her in a tailored suit.

Together, they basked in the crowd's admiration, looking perfectly matched. I, on the other hand, had been dismissed as nothing more than a housekeeper, which nobody even questioned.

"Joe, I know life hasn't been easy for you, but a child this age already understands things," Logan said. "Even if you don't care about yourself, you shouldn't put her in such an awkward position."

As he spoke, he pulled out a small stack of cash from his designer wallet and held it out to me with an air of superiority.

"I don't have that much cash on me. Look, I don't know what difficulties you're dealing with, but take this two grand for now. Get yourself a ticket back to your hometown… and maybe see a specialist while you're at it."

As he leaned in, he lowered his voice so only I could hear. "Look what's happening now, Joseph. So what if you met Claire before I did? The one who isn't loved is always the outsider."

Under the watchful eyes of the crowd, Logan suddenly let out a soft exclamation, his fingers loosening. The cash struck my face and scattered across the floor.

He smiled without a trace of apology, his gaze dismissive. "Sorry. It slipped."

The pot-bellied man, Mr. Zimmerman, chimed in again. "Mr. Stone is generous. That's real class right there."

Claire glanced at me indifferently, then spoke in a flat, commanding tone. "Pick it up and leave. Now."

Anger boiled over me. "You think two grand is enough to brush me off? What do you think got you those contracts when your company was just starting, huh?

"All these years, you've been spending our marital assets on him and your illegitimate son. If I choose to, I can reclaim every bit of it!"

Logan dismissed me with a laugh. "Quite a story you've put together. Hey, Joe, with that imagination of yours, why not recommend me a few of those novels you've been reading?"

Still, I knew I had clearly struck a nerve because Claire looked grim all of a sudden. She was about to berate me again when a sharp slap cut her off mid-sentence.

"Keep twisting the truth and making baseless accusations against me, and I'll take this straight to court, Claire!"

Claire stood there, momentarily stunned.

Logan reacted almost instantly, fury flashing across his face. He grabbed me by the collar, his knuckles turning white as he seethed, "How dare you lay a hand on a woman? Have you lost all sense?"

Out of the crowd's sight, in a corner where no one could see, he suddenly grabbed me by the throat. His grip tightened bit by bit. I could feel the air leaving my lungs.

Just as everything started to fade before my eyes, Claire stepped forward, putting on a show of concern. "Logan, it's not worth getting upset over someone like him. What if you end up hurting yourself?"

Only then did Logan let go. I dropped to the floor, gasping for air.

He turned to Claire, gently brushing his fingers over the faint mark I had left on her face. Right there in front of everyone, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Alright. It's Caleb's birthday today. Won't want anyone ruining our good mood."

Claire's expression softened. She slipped an arm around his waist, leaning into him as if nothing had happened.

At that moment, the lights in the hall dimmed. The projector flickered on, right on cue, and photos began to slide across the screen. They were all of Caleb, from his birth up to now.

It turned out that when Claire had claimed she was travelling abroad for six months to expand the company's business, she had actually gone away to have a child.

Caleb's birth, his first birthday, his first day at school… Every milestone was carefully recorded, with both parents there to accompany him at every moment. Meanwhile, Claire had always been absent from Nancy's life.

Nancy and Caleb were born on the same day. Since they were three years apart, it explained why she never got to see Claire again after the year he was born.

Caleb pulled a face at Nancy, his tone openly taunting. "You keep saying she's your mom. Let's see your photos, then."

Her expression fell. She turned to me and cautiously asked, "Dad, am I really not supposed to exist?"

I shook my head.

Just then, the screen shifted to a series of family photos.

Something about a few of them made me freeze. The background was an open deck, the sea stretching into the horizon, with Claire and Logan pressing their faces together in the foreground.

I remembered that cruise. It was the luxury trip I had booked for our fifth wedding anniversary. It appeared she had booked Logan a ticket as well.

Another photo appeared, taken at a famous amusement park. Claire and Logan held each other tightly, looking every bit like a family.

When my gaze landed on the date stamped on the photo, I realized it was the exact day she had supposedly been there with Nancy and me at the park.

Everything finally fell into place—why every family outing always came with a "last-minute meeting" she couldn't avoid.