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!
