The dog let out a few howls of pain and collapsed to its knees.
Jerry, furious, shielded Black and roared at me, "You crazy woman! How dare you hit Black?! I..."
Before he could finish, a sharp "smack" echoed.
My palm landed instantly on his tender little face and the child burst into wails.
"Valerie, how could you pick a fight with a child?" Dario quickly grabbed my arm, saying helplessly yet with some irritation, "If you're feeling unwell, I'll have a doctor come treat you tomorrow!"
With that, he picked up his phone to instruct his secretary.
Cecilia curled her lips, shooting me a smug glance, "Madam, I hear your mental state is quite unstable. Perhaps you should rest indoors more often from now on!"
Fuming with rage, I snapped, "None of your business!" before scooping up Irene and heading upstairs.
At lunchtime, Cecilia didn't come to call us. Instead, she sent someone to deliver the meal, instructing us to eat in our room.
Seeing the few dishes with a thin film of oil on the plates, a bitter taste filled my mouth.
"Mom, didn't you say Dad would be good to us? Why won't he even give us a chicken drumstick?"
Irene struggled to chew the potato in her mouth, frowning in complaint.
I set down my chopsticks, stroked her cheek and comforted her, "Don't worry, I'll go get you some meat."
With that, I got up and went downstairs.
In the dining room, Cecilia sat at the table serving food onto Jerry's plate.
"In this household, are you the mistress, or am I?" I deliberately raised my voice, interrupting their feast.
Jerry slammed down his chopsticks angrily, pointing at me and roaring, "You filthy woman! Didn't Cecil forbid you from coming downstairs to eat?"
I sneered without a word, slamming my hand down hard on the table.
Then, under everyone's stunned gaze, I yanked the tablecloth off the table.
A dozen or so dishes crashed to the floor with a clatter. Tapping my fingers lightly on the table, I challenged Cecilia, "What do you say, Cecil?"
Cecilia's face twisted in anger, yet her features remained exquisitely beautiful.
She soothed Jerry and forced a polite smile, "Of course, you’re the mistress, Madam. Please don't be upset. Just tell me what you'd like to eat and I'll see to it."
I curled my lips into a cold smile and casually pointed at the wreckage on the floor. "Six dishes and one soup, each with a different type of meat. I also want milk and a dessert with at least five types of fresh fruit in the afternoon fruit platter. Got it?"
Cecilia forced down the anger in her eyes and replied, "Understood, Madam."
But the moment she turned away, a sinister smile spread across her face.
That afternoon, just as Irene and I woke up, Dario's secretary arrived to take us for a physical exam.
"Madam, Mr. Finley is waiting at the entrance."
Only upon stepping outside did we discover Dario had arranged another car for us.
"Since you two aren't feeling well, I'll have the driver take it easy. Irene and I will head to the hospital ahead of you."
With that, he slammed the car door shut.
Sitting in the car with my daughter in my arms, I watched Dario's car disappear into the distance, my mind filled with suspicion.
Not long after leaving the villa complex, Irene started crying and complaining of stomach pain. I too felt a dull ache in my abdomen, though not as severe as hers.
"Driver, hurry up! My daughter's sick—it might be appendicitis!"
Unexpectedly, the driver showed no reaction. Instead, he impatiently scolded us, "Madam, Mr. Finley specifically instructed me not to drive too fast because you two suffer from severe motion sickness."
"You'll just have to endure it a little longer. We'll be at the hospital soon."
But Irene in my arms was already pale with pain, beads of sweat rolling down her forehead.
My heart ached for her. I pounded the back of the driver's seat and urged him, "We can't wait any longer. My daughter's condition is critical—I fear for her life!"
The driver, however, slowly dialed Dario's number.
A cold voice came through the receiver, "The lady's not in the best state. Ignore her and keep going at the same speed."
