WonNovels

I was spoiled by nature. After marrying an icy husband who didn’t love me, I gave birth to an equally icy little son.

By the time my son turned five, I was still ordering the two of them around, ruling the house like a tyrant.

I liked seeing the way they clearly disliked me, yet still had to revolve around me and take care of me.

Until one day, lines of floating comments suddenly appeared before my eyes.

[The evil supporting female character is finally about to exit. The heroine has already joined the male lead’s company, and today she even took little prince out for fried chicken. The story is finally getting back on track.]

[She’s always tormenting our male lead and little prince, but thank God the father and son will kick her out later just to make the heroine happy. In the end, this delicate rich wife will end up on the street and get hit by a car, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down.]

[Just thinking about the male lead’s family of three going to the hospital later to mock her miserable state makes me feel amazing.]

I jerked my leg up.

Water splashed everywhere.

My husband, who had been crouching on the floor washing my feet, and my son, who had been squatting beside him massaging my calves, were both splashed across the face.

One big and one small, with nearly identical iceberg faces, frowned at the exact same time.

I stammered, “...Never mind. I’ll do it myself.”

1

Ethan Shaw knitted his tiny brows.

With his little head, he couldn’t figure out why I was always changing my mind on a whim.

“Mom, is the water too hot?”

Embarrassed, I put my feet back into the home foot spa basin.

“No. I’m done. You don’t need to massage them anymore. Get up first.”

I swallowed, then looked at my husband, who was still kneeling on one knee on the floor.

“You too. Get up.”

Compared to Ethan, Adrian Shaw was much more composed.

He seemed long accustomed to my mercurial temper. Calmly, he stood up and turned to get a towel.

[The more humiliated the male lead and little prince felt kneeling just now, the more satisfying it’ll be when they slap her in the face later.]

[Making the little crown prince massage her legs, making a billionaire CEO wash and dry her feet—she really is tired of living.]

I stared silently at the rolling comments.

So I was the evil supporting female character, while my husband and son were the male lead and the little male lead of this world.

Not only was I destined to step aside for the heroine—Ethan himself had been arranged into the plot because the author didn’t want the heroine to go through childbirth, so they had me, the female side character, do it first.

In the end, the heroine would appear looking beautiful and flawless, smoothly inherit my husband and son, heal them, and make them realize that besides me, there really was such a gentle, kind woman in the world.

And then the three of them would live happily ever after.

I slowly clenched my fists.

Adrian was one thing. After all, ours had been a marriage with family interests factored into it. There had never been any emotional foundation to begin with.

But Ethan...

I looked at the little boy standing quietly nearby.

Even if he had a face almost identical to his father’s, he was still my own son, the child I had carried in my womb.

There was no way I was just going to hand him over to someone else.

So I cleared my throat and asked, “Sweetheart, if one day Mom and Dad got divorced, who would you stay with?”

Ethan froze.

Then his little brows drew together again.

Imitating the cold restraint of his father, he said in a flat voice, “Mom, don’t make meaningless assumptions like that.”

I was left speechless.

When I looked up, I met Adrian’s cool amber eyes.

They were like a still, lifeless lake.

He stepped forward, bent down again, knelt on one knee, and lifted my foot out of the basin.

“Don’t say things like that in front of the child.”

Ethan nodded and turned toward the stairs like a tiny adult.

“I’m going back to my room to sleep.”

The barrage of comments burst into laughter.

[What is this woman even thinking? The father and son look like they were carved from the same mold, of course they despise her to the same extent.]

[Adrian can still pretend a little. The little prince practically has his disgust written all over his face.]

[LOL, even if she really did divorce him, the kid would never go with her. What would he do—keep serving her like a little servant?]

[Her whole purpose is to make a mess, get abandoned, then die miserably after getting her legs crushed. That’s what makes it satisfying.]

My heart jolted violently. Without another word, I snatched the towel out of Adrian’s hand.

“I’ll do it myself.”

Adrian’s brows furrowed slightly, but in the end he said nothing.

Lying in bed later, I tried hard to digest all the information those comments had thrown at me.

I lifted my robe and looked at my long, pale legs.

They were so shapely, so evenly proportioned—I absolutely could not accept losing them in the future.

After a long time thinking, I decided that the first thing I needed to change was how I exploited my husband and son.

According to the comments, I really couldn’t stop the male and female leads from meeting.

Even if I made Adrian fire that so-called heroine immediately, they would still run into each other somewhere else, some other way.

But if my son could come to see me as a gentle mother, then maybe if Adrian and I really did divorce, Ethan would be willing to stay with me.

2

With that in mind, I looked up and saw Adrian stepping out of the bathroom.

A towel was wrapped low around his waist. Droplets of water slid down the tight skin of his chest.

When he saw me lying on the bed with my robe hiked up and both legs exposed, his motion of drying his hair paused, and his pupils darkened at once.

Meanwhile, I was still seriously trying to think about how to become a considerate, loving mother.

Then, the moment I looked up, I saw that Adrian had already gone into the walk-in closet and come back with the “battle gear” I had once bought for him.

In his left hand was one black-and-white lace-trimmed piece. In his right, a sheer purple one.

The tips of his ears were slightly red, yet he still wore the same impassive expression, looking at me as if waiting for me to choose.

The comments in front of me instantly exploded.

[Why did the screen go black?! What do you mean there are things even my premium membership isn’t allowed to see?]

[Fine, I won’t insult the female side character anymore. Just turn on the camera and let everyone admire your husband’s broad chest.]

[Claire Reed, share the husband, earn some goodwill—hurry up and turn on the camera.]

Mixed among a bunch of duck-avatar commenters were a few obvious die-hard fans of the original male lead.

[I seriously can’t accept this. Even though I know how the little prince came into existence, I still feel like the male lead was forced. Can’t she see how her husband always keeps a cold face every single time he does this with her?]

[Same. The male lead clearly rejected it the first time, but she keeps forcing him to wear these things every time just to satisfy her weird fetish. Disgusting.]

[It’s fine. Thinking about how those legs draped over the male lead now won’t even exist before long makes me less angry.]

I took a deep breath. Watching Adrian about to go change, I suddenly yanked the blanket over my legs and covered them tightly.

“I... I’m not in the mood today. Let’s just sleep early.”

The moment the words left my mouth, the entire room seemed to freeze.

The comments instantly erupted in celebration.

[Oh? Did the sun rise in the west today?]

[Why does the male lead’s face look so bad? What did the female side character do this time?]

[What else? She forced him to change, then said she didn’t want it after all. Look at how white his knuckles are from gripping that lace outfit—humiliated but enduring.]

I noticed too that Adrian’s expression was awful.

Especially after the words not in the mood, his face darkened visibly by several shades.

In the past, every time I made him wear these outfits, he had always looked reluctant. I usually had to coax and trick him into it.

Now, watching the flood of scrolling comments, I barely even dared breathe.

“Understood.”

Adrian’s voice was as cool and restrained as ever.

He casually tossed both outfits back into the closet and lifted the blanket to get into bed.

Beneath the covers, I secretly pinched my own legs and let out a long breath.

Thank God.

They were safe.

Love you, my legs.

See you tomorrow.

3

The next morning, daylight was already streaming in.

When I came out of the room, I saw the two of them sitting in the living room.

The moment I sat down, Adrian got up and went into the open kitchen to get me some toast.

Ethan, meanwhile, huffed and puffed as he carried over a milk jug, climbed onto a small stool, and prepared to pour me some.

The comments started up again.

[No wonder the female side character deserves to die. There are clearly plenty of staff in the house, but she insists on making the male lead and little prince serve her personally.]

[Exactly. And then she calls it “teaching the child responsibility.” What a joke. Does a little crown prince need to worry about pleasing other people?]

[She even claims she wants the male lead to set a good example for their son. Please. She’s just deliberately tormenting them to satisfy her need for control.]

My temple throbbed. I reached out and grasped Ethan’s small arm.

Ethan looked up at me in confusion.

“I put in one and a half spoonfuls of sugar this time.”

I took the milk jug from him, poured it into my own cup, and took two big gulps.

“Mom can handle little things like this herself. Hurry and eat your breakfast.”

Ethan looked at me as if he simply couldn’t understand why I had suddenly become so strange.

Still, he turned and sat back down in his seat.

Adrian came out of the kitchen looking slightly hesitant.

“We’re out of Caesar dressing. I already had the house manager go out to buy some...”

I reached out and took the sandwich.

“It’s fine. I can eat it without dressing.”

The room instantly went still.

Even the live-in housekeeper looked at me in surprise.

Adrian stared at his now-empty hand, his brows drawing together more and more deeply.

“Mom, you actually didn’t throw the sandwich in Dad’s face today...”

My son blinked, serious as ever.

I took a deep breath.

How awful had I really been before?

The comments had already answered for me.

[What’s wrong with the female side character today? Isn’t she supposed to have the worst morning temper? The last time there was no dressing, she threw breakfast straight across the room.]

[Look how scared little prince is. His cool expression is practically falling apart. He probably thinks his mom got possessed.]

I took a bite of the sandwich, too guilty to keep looking at the comments.

Then a small piece of lettuce slid out and landed squarely on my lap.

Looking at the stain on my lounge dress, I frowned instinctively.

The next second, a napkin lightly covered my thigh, and then a large, well-defined hand entered my field of vision.

Adrian’s hand was so big it practically covered my entire thigh.

My pupils contracted sharply. In my mind, I could already see my beautiful legs turning transparent, growing wings, and flying away while saying goodbye.

I reacted quickly, flicked the lettuce away, then looked up straight into Adrian’s cool eyes.

“I can handle little things like this myself.”

I forced out a smile, then turned to my son.

“And from now on, you don’t need to massage my legs or pour my milk either. Mom can do it herself.”

Ethan’s brows twisted tightly together, and he said in a chilly voice, “Mom, are you sick?”

I choked.

This child—when I treated him badly, he endured it. Now that I was treating him well, he thought I was ill.

That whole breakfast, I stayed quiet and didn’t make anyone do anything for me—no asking for napkins, no making someone pour my milk, no ordering things around.

Ethan kept secretly glancing up at me while eating, his little frown deepening each time.

Adrian’s gaze also drifted over me from time to time before slowly sliding away.

Only after Adrian took Ethan out of the house did I let myself collapse back onto the sofa.

When I looked up, my gaze landed on the huge wedding photograph hanging in the center of the living room, and I couldn’t help rubbing my temples.

The truth was, I had had a crush on Adrian even before our arranged marriage.

But he had been a genuine iceberg.

Among all the socialite friends around me—girls every bit as proud and privileged as I was—not a single one of them had ever managed to get even a slightly warmer expression out of him.

And I had my pride too. I wasn’t the kind of woman who could chase after a man.

Especially not an iceberg this impossible to thaw.

I had almost strangled that tiny spark of affection before it could grow.

Then our families’ marriage arrangement bound us together anyway.

I still remembered how, just after we got married, I had barely been able to contain my happiness—only to overhear him talking to one of his friends outside the study.

“Claire’s famous in our circle for being spoiled. You really got unlucky.”

And Adrian, in that calm, indifferent voice of his, had said, “We’re each getting what we need. Isn’t that what marriages like this always are?”

At that moment, the little flame that had just started to flicker inside me went out completely.

I only managed to pretend to be gentle and obedient in front of the man I liked for a few months before giving up altogether.

If, as he said, we were only taking what we needed from the arrangement,

then I might as well stop pretending and show him exactly who I really was.

From the biggest things in the house to the smallest—furniture, decorations, carpets, lighting—I arranged everything according to my own taste.

Adrian never interfered.

The only exception was this enormous wedding portrait. When I had insisted on hanging it in the very center of the living room, he had frowned faintly and said, “It doesn’t fit here. It looks ugly.”

At the time, I had swallowed that with bitterness.

I had told myself he didn’t really hate the photo itself—he just hated that I was in it.

But Adrian’s cold personality also meant that he rarely truly argued with me over anything.

And so I only became worse.

I started ordering him around to do this and that for me.

I forced him to wear clothes he clearly disliked, simply to satisfy my own obsession.

Sometimes Adrian would show his displeasure, but even then, the most he ever did was knit his brows.

And I happened to love the sight of him frowning.

He was so devastatingly handsome; most of the time he looked like some distant, untouchable god, with almost no emotional fluctuation at all.

Only when he frowned did he seem to come alive—like a cold, abstinent deity stepping out of a painting at last.

These past years, because he had practically tolerated—sometimes even indulged—every one of my bad habits, I had occasionally even developed the ridiculous illusion that perhaps he liked me a little too.

But every time I looked at that iceberg face of his, and saw that the expression he wore for the housekeeper was no different from the one he wore for me, I knew I was being foolish again.

“Linda, have someone take that photo down.”

I raised my hand and pointed toward the huge wedding portrait.

That photograph had been hung there by a girl who, right after marriage, had still been full of hope about Adrian.

Six years later, those hopes had long since worn away.

In Adrian’s eyes, I was no different from anyone else.

Actually, I could have accepted a marriage without love.

But these sudden floating comments were like a live surveillance feed, constantly broadcasting what the male and female leads were doing at every moment, and it was driving me insane.

[The heroine just poured the male lead a coffee, and he looked up at her—ahhh, I’m dying.]

[The heroine typed a document wrong and didn’t even notice. She’s such a little fool. When the male lead sees it, he’s definitely going to find her adorable.]

I closed my eyes and decided to sleep for a while first.

When I opened them again, thunder was rolling outside, and rain poured down in sheets.

4

My phone vibrated beside me. It was Adrian.

“You fell asleep in the living room?”

His voice was calm, distant as always.

I gave a soft “Mm.”

After two seconds of silence, he spoke again.

“I have to work late tonight. If it gets too late, I won’t come home. Let Ethan sleep with you tonight.”

Before I could answer, the comments in front of me started racing by.

[The male lead really is working overtime, but our heroine is at the company too. On a rainy night, the office is left with only a few NPCs and the male and female leads—just thinking about it is already so romantic.]

[I love this kind of dual-power pairing: the male lead is a cold workaholic CEO, and the heroine is a career-driven queen in her own right. Unlike some certain pampered wife.]

[Exactly. She’s scared of thunder and always needs someone with her. If her husband isn’t around, then she makes her son accompany her? Is she a giant baby?]

Being called a “giant baby,” I let out a deep breath.

“No need. Just focus on your work...”

Before I could finish, I looked up and saw Ethan standing not far away.

He had a little stone face on, and I had no idea how long he had been standing by the doorway or how much he had overheard.

As I lifted my gaze, even the “camera angle” of the floating comments seemed to shift with it.

Ethan said nothing. He simply set down his backpack quietly and turned to go inside.

On the other end of the line, Adrian’s voice came again.

“That wall behind you...”

I turned to look. While I’d been asleep, the wedding portrait had already been taken down.

“What happened to the photo?” he asked.

“I had someone throw it out. Just focus on your work. I’m hanging up.”

Adrian said nothing.

But from the way his side of the screen went dark, it was obvious his expression had fallen immediately.

I didn’t notice at all. I was too busy staring at the empty wall in thought.

Maybe I should hang something else there.

The blank space really did look ugly.

After dinner, the thunder outside still hadn’t stopped.

I rubbed at my sore eyes.

When I opened them again, a little boy was standing in front of me, holding a storybook with utmost seriousness.

“Come on. I’ll put you to sleep.”

Actually, I wasn’t especially afraid of thunder.

I just hated that heavy, oppressive weather—the kind that made the air itself feel like it was pressing on your chest.

So every time it stormed, I was in a terrible mood and would always come up with excuses to torment Adrian in bed.

[The female side character is seriously so annoying. A five-year-old has to coax her to sleep? This is ridiculous.]

[And she has zero sense of how people feel. The little prince has “I’m disgusted” written all over his face. When she can’t torment her husband because he’s working late, she turns to tormenting her son. When is the romance between the male and female leads ever going to speed up?]

I lowered my eyes to Ethan.

His little face was blank, stiff, exactly like his father’s.

“No need. Mom can sleep on her own.”

I waved a hand to refuse.

Ethan bit his lip. To my surprise, he actually looked a little wronged.

“But Dad told me to stay with you.”

I had a headache coming on. I was just about to say more when suddenly a horn sounded from the front drive.

I froze.

Even the comments looked stunned.

[Why did the male lead come back? What about the heroine?]

5

Still clutching his storybook, Ethan lit up as though he’d seen a savior. He ran over at once, grabbed Adrian’s hand, and reported solemnly, “Mom won’t let me stay with her.”

Adrian nodded.

Even toward his own son, his expression hadn’t improved much.

The screen filled with question marks, and I was just as confused.

“You... why did you come back?”

Adrian didn’t answer. He simply lifted his gaze to the now-empty wall, and his eyes darkened another shade.

“You said it was ugly, so I took it down...”

His stare made my scalp tingle, and I found myself explaining awkwardly.

But the comments had already begun to pick up a different scent.

[Does the male lead really only feel disgust for the female side character like the original story says? Why do I feel like something’s off?]

[Of course he’s disgusted. Didn’t you see how dark his face is? He probably realized his son couldn’t deal with this difficult woman and came rushing back because he was afraid she’d torment the little prince.]

[Yeah, he definitely looks impatient.]

Adrian patted Ethan lightly on the head.

“Go to bed.”

Ethan blinked, then turned his gaze back to me.

“Mom, no leg massage tonight either?”

I waved both hands frantically.

“No, no.”

Ethan pouted. There was even a watery sheen of disappointment in his eyes.

Then he quickly schooled his expression into a little cold mask again and stubbornly asked, “Then what about your shoulders?”

I nodded so hard it was practically frantic.

Ethan puffed out his cheeks and trudged back to his room.

Adrian tugged at his tie, and there was a heavy gloom settled between his brows.

“Have you been in a bad mood lately?”

I stared at him, baffled.

“No. I’ve actually been in a pretty good mood lately.”

The air fell silent for two seconds.

He drew in a breath, then nodded.

Rain pattered steadily against the windows, while the comments kept scrolling in front of my eyes.

[The male lead just abandoned the heroine to come home like this. How is the plot supposed to move forward?]

[Don’t worry. Even if they’re not physically together, the bond between the male and female leads can’t be broken. The red string tying them together is stronger than steel rebar.]

Almost the instant that comment finished scrolling past, the phone Adrian had left on the nightstand rang.

Hearing the water still rushing in the bathroom, I picked it up and called toward the door, “Your phone.”

5 (continued)

The comments instantly burst into laughter.

[What did I say? The heroine’s calling now, isn’t she?]

[The female side character isn’t going to answer it again, is she? Has she never heard of respecting other people’s privacy? Disgusting.]

[Don’t worry. Even if she picks up, it’ll only make the male lead hate her more. It’s not like she hasn’t done it before. In the original, she answered secretly once, then screamed insults at the heroine, and the male lead yanked the phone away and left her in complete humiliation.]

At the same time, Adrian’s voice drifted out from the bathroom.

“Answer it for me and ask what it’s about.”

As if it were burning hot, I immediately tossed the phone back onto the nightstand.

“You can answer it yourself when you come out.”

The sound of running water stopped abruptly.

A moment later, Adrian came out with shampoo foam still in his hair.

He looked at me first, his eyes heavy and unreadable, before lowering them to pick up the phone.

The moment the call connected, a clear female voice came through.

“Adrian, I sent you two versions of the proposal and you still haven’t replied...”

In the quiet bedroom, her voice was startlingly distinct.

Adrian didn’t speak right away. Instead, he fixed his eyes on my face, as though waiting for a reaction.

I was awkward too.

Why did he have the volume turned up so loud?

The comments, meanwhile, had already lost their minds.

[Is the female side character about to go crazy again? Every time the male lead used to take a call from another woman, she’d throw a fit. Once she even scratched his face.]

[With that spoiled temper of hers, only the male lead could tolerate her. Every scene where she acts unreasonable just makes him hate her more and makes our heroine look even gentler and kinder.]

[By the time her legs get crushed later, the male lead will probably feel even less pity for her.]

The moment I saw the words her legs get crushed, I flinched so hard I went into a coughing fit.

Still coughing, I got up and headed toward the bathroom.

“I’m going to... cough, cough... shower.”

Before I could take more than two steps, someone seized my arm.

Adrian drew in a deep breath, as if suppressing some violent emotion, then said expressionlessly into the phone, “This is after work hours. We’ll discuss it tomorrow.”

Then he hung up.

After that, he lowered his gaze to me.

“A woman calls me privately after work, and you’re not angry?”

The room went still.

Adrian stared at me for a long time before finally letting me go.

That whole night, the movement beside me—turning over, shifting, restless—didn’t stop until well after midnight.

The comments kept jumping before my eyes.

[The male lead must be regretting it now, wondering desperately why he came home to sleep beside this female side character instead of staying at the company with the heroine.]

[I kind of feel sorry for the female side character. Her pillow partner is in the same bed with her, but his heart’s elsewhere, and she’s too stupid to even know.]

Being described as stupid, I silently clenched my fists.

Fine. I could take it.

As long as my son was willing to come with me, I’d divorce Adrian immediately and wish him and his “fated heroine” a hundred years of happiness.

6

I slept without dreaming.

By the time I woke the next day, Adrian was already gone.

When I got to the dining room, my son was sitting at the table. The moment he saw me approaching, his eyes locked straight onto me.

I stepped closer and reached out to touch his cheek.

Ethan’s tiny body stiffened all at once. Then the tips of his ears slowly turned red.

His neck drew back subtly, the avoidance obvious.

My hand froze awkwardly in midair.

The comments immediately burst into mockery.

[Can’t she see he can’t stand her? Honestly, I’d love to live as blissfully unaware as the female side character.]

[When is she going to understand she’s just a side character? She’s trying so hard lately, and neither the father nor son is responding.]

[The little prince is just as double-standard as his father. He won’t even let the female side character touch him, but the candy the heroine gave him yesterday is hidden under his pillow because he can’t bear to eat it.]

My pupils contracted sharply.

Compared to Adrian eventually loving someone else, that line hit me a hundred times harder.

Even though I often teased and tormented my son at home, he was still flesh of my flesh.

I just liked teasing him.

At such a young age, he wore such a cold little face that I always wanted to poke at him.

Whenever his tiny brows furrowed, I’d find it unbearably cute.

And now these comments were telling me that no matter how hard I tried, my son would still, according to “the plot,” come to prefer another woman more.

Unwilling to accept it, I pulled out a chair and sat down beside him.

Ethan glanced at me, then quietly shifted his little bottom a few inches away on the chair, increasing the distance between us.

My heart sank halfway on the spot, but I still asked in a low voice, “Sweetheart, are you...”

Before I could finish, the little boy lowered his head and took a sip of milk, cutting me off.

“Mom, I’ve said before, don’t call me that. Just call me Ethan.”

His voice was still soft with childhood, but his words were stiff as a board.

Head lowered, ears red.

The comments thought it was hilarious.

[The little prince is so fed up with her, and she still has zero self-awareness. Look how red his face is from holding it in.]

[Yesterday when the heroine called him little prince, he answered so sweetly. But today when the female side character called him sweetheart, he shut her down with a cold face. Just like his father—absolutely faithful to the heroine.]

My fingers curled slowly, and heat gathered at the corners of my eyes.

Looking at how far he’d practically shifted off his chair—almost half his body hanging off it—just to stay away from me, I suddenly felt there was no point anymore.

What was the point of dragging things out by force, watching my husband and son slowly, step by step, follow some so-called plot until they loved another woman?

Watching myself become jealous, twisted, hysterical—until I ended up just like the comments said?

It all felt incredibly pointless.

I drew my hand back and returned to my room.

And the comments were still floating.

[Why do I suddenly feel like the female side character is kind of pitiful?]

[Same.]

[Stop being saints. She’s not the heroine, that’s all there is to it.]

After Ethan left the house, I went into his room.

It didn’t take long to find the candy hidden under his pillow.

It felt as though someone had grabbed hold of my insides and twisted them violently.

This “plot” thing was terrifying.

I hadn’t even met the so-called heroine properly, yet just because my son liked her more, I had already begun instinctively to resent her.

I sat in Ethan’s room for ten minutes before standing up again.

Before I was Ethan’s mother or Adrian’s wife, I was Claire Reed first.

I was the most proud, most untouchable daughter of the Reed family.

When my best friend called, I was in the middle of making a travel itinerary.

I didn’t want these comments to drive me into becoming some ugly, distorted woman twisted by jealousy.

I didn’t want to turn into exactly the evil side character they kept describing.

I needed to get away and breathe.

In any case, that father and son had never cared much where I went.

“Go pick up a child for me.”

My friend sounded busy, with noise all around her, and tossed the request out in a rush.

7

I froze. “Since when did you have a kid?”

My friend clicked her tongue.

“Not mine—my brother’s. Didn’t I tell you? Someone plotted against him before, and there was an accident, and a kid came out of it. He’s abroad right now and dumped the child on me, but I’m too busy to handle it.”

“You’re always saying your Ethan is like a little block of ice and doesn’t have many friends at school. My nephew is incredibly sweet. Pick him up for me and let him come play with your son for a couple days—maybe he’ll loosen Ethan up.”

Before I could refuse, she sent me the address and hung up.

I suddenly had a headache.

To make matters worse, the private preschool she mentioned happened to be the same one Ethan attended.

I had only gone there once.

That time Ethan, with his tiny cold face, had said to me, “The driver and housekeeper can pick me up. It doesn’t matter whether you come or not.”

After noticing the rejection in his eyes, I’d never gone again.

But my friend hadn’t been exaggerating.

Her little nephew really was frighteningly sweet.

The moment he saw me, he ran over and wrapped his arms around mine, calling out “Aunt Claire” over and over in the softest voice, smiling so sweetly my heart practically melted.

For a moment, I even found myself resenting Adrian.

If his genes weren’t so overpowering, maybe my Ethan would also have grown into the kind of child who would throw himself into my arms and act spoiled.

But just as I was thinking that, I looked up and saw a somewhat familiar face standing not far away.

“Dad!”

The little boy cried out in delight and ran straight toward him.

The man bent down and caught him, smiling—but his gaze landed on me.

“Claire. Long time no see.”

I blinked, then recognized him.

“Ryan? Didn’t your sister say you were overseas?”

It had been so long I’d nearly failed to recognize him.

Compared to the sunny, clingy boy who used to trail after my best friend and me all those years ago, he was clearly much more mature now.

“Just got back.”

Since the child’s father had arrived, I was about to leave.

But the little boy hugged my arm and refused to let go, shaking me insistently.

“Aunt Claire, stay with me a little longer.”

Faced with a small creature this soft and sweet, I simply couldn’t bring myself to refuse.

The child said he wanted fried chicken, so we ended up stopping at a nearby fast-food place.

What I hadn’t expected was to run into Ethan there.

And standing beside him was a very beautiful woman.

“So, little prince, what do you want to eat today? Aunt Avery is treating.”

The woman’s smile was lovely.

Ethan lifted a hand and pointed at a combo meal, then suddenly froze.

The noisy restaurant seemed to fall strangely quiet in an instant.

Only the comments in front of my eyes were flying wildly.

[Holy—what is happening? The whole plot is derailing. How did the female side character run into the little prince and the heroine right now of all times?]

[She’s not going to lose it and hit the little prince on the spot, is she? Look—he’s so scared he’s not smiling anymore.]

[But wow, this love-triangle showdown is kind of amazing. The female side character actually looks pretty good with the man beside her. And with that cute child in the middle, they really do look like a family of three at first glance.]

Someone tugged at my arm.

The boy in my arms tipped his head up and said sweetly, “Aunt Claire, I can’t see the menu. Hold me up so I can look.”

Not far away, Ethan stood there. The bright smile that had been on his face a moment earlier was completely gone.

He was looking at me quietly.

His gaze was so cold it felt like needles, and my nose stung.

How pathetic.

Ever since my son had turned three, I had never seen him smile that brightly again.

And the next time I did, it had been beside another woman.

[The little prince looks at her like she’s his enemy, hahaha. Kids really can’t hide their feelings.]

[He’s shielding the heroine with his body because he’s afraid the female side character will go crazy, right?]

[If I were the female side character, I’d have enough self-awareness to pretend I didn’t see them. That expression on her son’s face clearly says he doesn’t even want to acknowledge her.]

Silently, I picked the little boy up into my arms and deliberately ignored Ethan.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Ethan’s little face tense even further, as if he were nervous—or angry.

From the moment he saw me, he didn’t smile again.

Through the restaurant window, I watched his small back as he let that woman lead him away by the hand.

And suddenly, I found it all rather laughable.

My own son shrank away from my touch, yet walked obediently hand in hand with another woman.

Ryan must have sensed how distracted I was, because throughout the meal he did his best to cheer me up.

He had always been lively and good at coaxing people, and his son was exactly the same.

Bit by bit, he had me reminiscing with him about the ridiculous things we used to do as kids, and by the end my mood had improved a little.

After dinner, I had intended to refuse his offer to drive me home.

But his son wrapped himself around me like a little koala and absolutely refused to come down.

I couldn’t help laughing.

“He really is just like you when you were younger. So clingy.”

Ryan’s gaze flickered slightly.

“You actually still remember that, Claire?”

In the end, Ryan had to get out of the car himself and physically peel the little boy off me before stuffing him back inside.

I watched the car disappear into the distance, then turned to walk toward the house.

8

But the moment I turned around, I nearly jumped.

Under the dim streetlamp stood two figures—one tall, one small.

Ethan’s little face was drawn tight, both fists clenched.

Adrian stood beside him, expressionless as ever.

Still, both of them radiated a gloomy heaviness, and I had no idea how long they’d been standing there waiting.

The second he saw me look over, Ethan turned his face away coldly and walked inside.

The comments instantly sensed that something was wrong.

[Do you guys feel it too? The father and son look like two creepy, damp ghosts.]

[Seriously, yes. The female side character turned around and I nearly got startled too. Why are both of them glaring like that? Aren’t they supposed to hate her?]

[You just don’t get it. According to the plot, today the heroine was supposed to have dinner with the male lead and little prince. But for some reason the little prince insisted on coming home, which meant the male and female leads never got any alone time. Of course the male lead is annoyed.]

I pulled my gaze back and walked into the house.

Adrian’s eyes stayed on me, and for some reason I suddenly felt cold enough to rub at my arms.

That strange atmosphere lingered all the way through dinner.

Ethan refused to eat.

The live-in housekeeper looked a little helpless and turned to me.

“Ma’am, maybe you should go call the young master. He’s most afraid of you—he always listens when you say something.”

For some reason, those words landed in my ears like a jab.

He’d already eaten fried chicken with that woman at lunch. If he wasn’t hungry now, why should I force him?

No matter what I did, all he felt toward me was fear and disgust.

Why bother going over there only to humiliate myself?

“Leave him alone.”

I said it lightly.

There was a pause of two seconds behind Ethan’s bedroom door.

Then it flew open.

His eyes were red as he glared at me.

“If you’re not going to care about me, are you going to become somebody else’s mom?”

I froze.

Before I could say anything, he suddenly broke down into loud sobs, as if he couldn’t hold it in for another second.

“Dad is a liar! He said Mom likes him best! I thought if I acted like him, Mom would like me more!”

“Liar! Both of you are liars!”

It had been far too long since I’d seen any strong emotion on Ethan’s face.

Forget crying like this—even smiling, even looking upset, had become rare.

So when I saw him completely fall apart in tears, I was stunned.

The comments were stunned too.

[What’s wrong with little prince? Why is he crying so hard all of a sudden?]

[Something feels off. Wasn’t little prince supposed to hate this mother of his? Why does it sound like... he likes her a lot?]

Ethan cried so hard he could barely breathe, like all the grievances of the past few years were pouring out at once.

“Mom hugged another little kid today, and when I wouldn’t eat you didn’t even care! You don’t even let me massage you anymore!”

“I tried so hard to act cold and aloof, so why didn’t that make you like me more? You like someone else’s kid now!”

The empty living room echoed with the sound of my son sobbing.

9

I finally came back to myself and hurriedly crouched down.

Ethan’s face was flushed deep red from crying.

His little cheeks were streaked with tears, and my chest ached at the sight.

“What are you talking about? How could Mom not love you?”

I raised my hand to wipe his tears.

Immediately, Ethan threw himself into my arms.

“Does Mom not like people like Dad anymore, so you don’t like me either? Is it because that uncle smiled so nicely today, and that’s why you like his smiling little boy? Then I can act like that uncle too. Mom, please don’t like someone else’s child...”

I was completely confused.

What on earth was this child even saying?

And yet, it had been two or three years since he had let himself rest obediently in my arms like this.

All these years, whenever I tried to pinch his cheeks or hug him, he would frown and resist, then hide from me with a cold face.

And now here he was, soft and warm in my embrace, crying in little hiccups, clutching at my clothes as if I might disappear at any second.

“I won’t act like Dad anymore. I’ll act like that uncle. Mom, please don’t hate me...”

Each sentence came out broken by sniffles.

Only then did I finally catch the key buried beneath all his disordered words.

—My precious son didn’t hate me at all.

He had simply been imitating Adrian the whole time.

I lifted my head and looked at Adrian, who stood off to one side.

His brows were drawn together, and for once his face carried something almost like bewilderment.

When I glared at him, he actually looked... innocent.

“I didn’t do anything. Really.”

He even sounded a little anxious when he explained.

The comments had already caught on.

[This desperate survival instinct... why is this weirdly shippable?]

[Right, right, right—you didn’t “teach” him anything. You just told your son that Claire likes your type best.]

[The more I hear this, the more it sounds like the male lead was basically bragging to his son.]

Ethan clung to me as if he were finally emptying out all the grievances he’d kept buried all these years.

He refused to let go.

Only after he cried himself exhausted did I finally carry him back to his room and lay him down on the bed.

His eyes were still red and watery.

“Mom, I’ll be good. Please don’t stop loving me, okay?”

As he spoke, he reached under his pillow and pulled out the candy, offering it to me.

“This was given by one of Dad’s subordinates. It’s for Mom. Mom, don’t like someone else’s kid.”

I looked at the candy in his hand and felt something in my heart crack open.

The comments had gone completely blank.

[Wait—what is going on? Wasn’t the heroine supposed to get along incredibly well with little prince? Why is he acting so clingy toward the female side character now?]

[Maybe the kid watches too much TV. “Dad’s subordinate”? That’s killing me. Honestly, I suddenly feel bad for the heroine. She spent so much time with him, and in his head she’s just “one of Dad’s subordinates.”]

[But I’ve always wanted to say this: the male lead never actually told the heroine to take care of the child. It’s always the heroine taking the initiative to play with little prince and take him out for fried chicken. Of course kids can’t resist junk food.]

Staring into Ethan’s eyes—still wet from tears, bright and shining—I couldn’t stop myself from asking, “Then when you wouldn’t let me touch you, and wouldn’t let me call you sweetheart... was that because you were trying to be like Dad too?”

Ethan’s little face turned even redder.

But this time he didn’t put that stiff mask back on. He just nodded honestly.

“Because whenever Mom touched me, I wanted to smile. I got really, really happy. And then I wouldn’t look like Dad anymore.”

I fell silent.

Ethan immediately grew tense.

“I’m not going to act like Dad anymore. Not at all.”

He looked so nervous, as though he were terrified I might say I disliked him.

The more I thought about it, the more absurd it seemed.

And yet at the same time, everything suddenly made sense.

So all t