Chapter 3

The next day, Olivia brought our daughter to visit me.

When Emma saw my burned face and torso, she screamed:

"Daddy's a monster! I don't want Daddy, I want Daddy Ethan..."

Olivia covered Emma's mouth, then turned to scold me:

"Couldn't you have wrapped some bandages around your face? What if you traumatize the child!"

I coldly replied: "You didn't need to come."

Olivia was taken aback.

I had never spoken to her in that tone before.

The next moment, she grabbed some bandages and started roughly wrapping them around my face.

As the bandages touched my wounds, it felt like thousands of leeches biting and sucking at the injuries.

Blood quickly soaked through one layer of bandages, so she just kept adding more layers, all while taunting me:

"You're such a failure as a father. Your daughter thinks you look like a monster - I'd say you're even worse than that."

Olivia seemed to have forgotten that I was burned saving her and Emma.

"What are you doing?! He just had medicine applied, do you know how much pain he's in?"

A young nurse rushed in, pushing Olivia aside to gently remove the bandages and reapply medicine.

"If you don't care about him, I do!"

"You didn't touch his waist, abdomen or upper thighs, did you?"

The nurse's words sparked the imagination.

Olivia glanced at my lower body: "James, you didn't..."

My face stung fiercely from the fresh medicine, bringing involuntary tears to my eyes.

Before I could deny anything, she had already taken out her phone to snap photos.

After taking several pictures, she fiddled with her phone, a satisfied smile on her face.

When she turned back to me, she covered her nose in disgust:

"I'm warning you, Emma is still young. Don't bring your germs home! Stay here and recover properly these next few days. The care worker will look after you."

As she reached the door, she called back to me:

"Hey!"

My heart clenched.

After being her workhorse for years, I wasn't even worthy of being called by name anymore.

The hickey on Olivia's neck stung my eyes.

"I'll take over the company for now. Don't bother me unless you're dying - I'm busy."

After Olivia left, I opened her social media.

She had arranged the horrific photos of my injuries into a collage, proudly displayed for all to see.

With the caption:

[Bad news: James injured his manhood. Good news: At least we have Emma.]

Every word of hers stomped mercilessly on my pride and dignity as a man.

The paternity test results popped up. With trembling fingers, I opened it.

As expected, Emma wasn't my biological child.

I took a deep drag of my cigarette.

As the smoke filled my lungs, I resolved to seek treatment abroad.

Before turning off my phone, I glanced at the company's latest financial report.

Olivia had no idea that the prize she was so eager to snatch was nothing but a hot potato.

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