"Ah, you little brat! How dare you bite me!"

Vanessa Robertson had just stepped out of her office when she saw her daughter sinking her teeth into a little boy's arm, refusing to let go.

Horrified, she rushed over immediately. "Puff, no biting!"

Little Puff reluctantly released her grip, her big eyes welling up with tears as she looked at her mother with a pitiful expression. She pointed to her own mouth, shaking her head frantically as if to say, *I'm not a brat!*

Vanessa's heart ached as she gently stroked her daughter's head. "I know you're upset, sweetheart, but biting is never okay. Let's check if the little boy is hurt, alright?"

Though still sulking, Puff nodded in agreement.

Once she had soothed her daughter, Vanessa finally turned her attention to the boy. She was about to offer some comforting words when—

Her breath caught in her throat.

The face staring back at her was one she had longed for day and night.

The boy was none other than her own son—Frank.

Vanessa froze, the words of comfort dying on her lips.

Memories from years ago flooded her mind—her son glaring at her with undisguised disgust, his voice sharp as a blade:

*"You horrible woman, just leave! Never come back! I don’t want you as my mom anymore. I want Aunt Emily to be my mother instead!"*

Those words, spoken during the darkest days of her divorce, had been the final blow that shattered her completely.

The betrayal from her beloved husband was painful enough, but to be rejected by her most cherished son as well—that was unbearable.

Vanessa couldn’t recall how she had left the Robertson family that day. All she remembered was the icy numbness in her chest, colder than the winter storm outside, aching with an unbearable pain.

Now, four years later, mother and son stood face to face again.

To say she felt nothing would be a lie. Yet, instead of longing, she saw only disgust in her son’s eyes—the same look he had given her when he drove her away.

Suppressing her emotions, Vanessa hardened her voice.

"I’m her mother. It was wrong of her to bite you, and I apologize for that. But calling her a 'little mute' is just as cruel. You owe her an apology."

At her words, Frank’s anger flared even hotter.

"She *is* a little mute! Was I wrong?" he spat, glaring defiantly. "She’s just like you—a bad person! I won’t apologize!"

He jutted his chin out, hands on his hips like a little tyrant, radiating stubbornness.

Then, a cold, authoritative voice cut through the tension from behind them.

"Frank. Who taught you to speak like that?"

The boy froze instantly.

Several seconds passed before he finally showed the bite mark on his arm to tattle.

"Dad, it's all because of that horrible woman and the daughter she raised. She nearly bit me to death—just look!"

"Frank, she's your mother. Is that any way to speak to her? What have I taught you all this time?"

Dave Robertson's expression was icy, his voice devoid of any warmth.

Frank defiantly lifted his chin. "She's not my mother. She's a bad woman. She abandoned me for this little mute. I'll never call her 'Mom'!"

"Frank, do you need another spanking? Apologize—now!"

The sharp command silenced the boy's defiance.

Head lowered, he muttered a reluctant "Sorry" before turning and darting back into the classroom.

Dave stepped closer to Vanessa, his scrutinizing gaze fixed on Little Puff. "She's your daughter?"

Vanessa had known that returning to this city would eventually bring her face-to-face with Dave again.

But she hadn’t expected it to happen like this.

Seeing his face, hearing his voice—it was as if she had been thrown back to the day she left the Robertson household.

That day, she had just returned from the hospital, ready to tell him about her pregnancy. But before she could speak, he had handed her divorce papers.

She had stared in disbelief, thinking it was some cruel joke.

Then his low, gravelly voice had cut through her shock: *"Vanessa, Emily saved my life years ago. She injured her leg and could never dance again—it destroyed her. She fell into severe depression. If I don’t marry her, she’ll kill herself. So I have no choice... I have to divorce you."*

Vanessa's emotions completely collapsed in that instant.

Dave wanted a divorce because he felt guilty towards his first love.

But he had no idea that for his sake, she had given up her dreams forever.

Vanessa had thought Dave was forced into this decision.

It wasn’t until she overheard the conversation between Emily and him that the truth hit her like a thunderbolt.

"Dave, the only reason you kept Vanessa by your side back then was to shield me from harm. Now that your position is secure, she’s no longer needed. If you’re this reluctant to send her away… don’t tell me you’ve fallen for her?"

Vanessa’s heart twisted into knots.

How desperately she wished Dave’s answer would be yes.

But the next second, she heard the man’s icy, resolute voice:

"Never."

Those two merciless words stabbed straight into her chest like a blade.

So all his kindness had been nothing but a ruse—to make his enemies believe she was his weakness, all to protect Emily.

Yet she, like a fool, had truly believed he loved her just as fiercely as she loved him.

Looking back now, the pain was undeniable.

It wasn’t that she couldn’t let go of him.

It was that she ached for the woman she had once been.

A faint, bitter smile curved Vanessa’s lips as she answered without hesitation:

"Yes."

Upon receiving her confirmation, Dave's dark eyes grew even colder.

His hands clenched involuntarily at his sides.

"Vanessa," he said, voice tight with suppressed emotion, "you know your body can't handle another pregnancy. Giving birth would put your life at risk. Just how remarkable is this man to make you gamble your life for him?"

A bitter smile curved Vanessa's lips at his words.

Indeed.

Just how extraordinary was that man to make her risk everything to bear his daughter?

The fortune-teller had claimed Dave's destiny lacked a daughter—that having one would bring him smooth sailing and prosperity.

Driven by this, Vanessa had sought out an old wives' tale about conceiving girls, secretly drinking bitter herbal concoctions for months.

She'd ignored her doctor's stern warnings about the dangers of another pregnancy to her fragile health.

This was how desperately she'd loved her husband—only to be cast aside by that very man.

A sharp pang shot through Vanessa's heart. "That's hardly any concern of yours," she replied coolly.

Dave's expression darkened. "I'm only thinking of your wellbeing, Vanessa. After all, you're Frank's birth mother. I don't want to see you in danger."

Her laugh was light, almost careless. "No need for the CEO's concern. I'm perfectly fine now. If the child needs bandaging, I'll take him to the school nurse. Otherwise, I'll be going."

"Vanessa." His voice stopped her, his gaze burning into her still-radiant face. "Don't forget—our son was also born through your sacrifice. Yet you'd abandon him for your daughter? I never knew you could be so heartless."

Turning back, Vanessa met his stare with serene detachment. "Why should I cater to someone who doesn't love me? Isn't it better to cherish the happiness I have now?"

She bent down to pick up her daughter, her voice softening into a gentle murmur. "Sweetheart, Daddy's here to take us out. We're going for a fancy dinner to celebrate Mommy's new job."

Turning around, she walked toward Kevin, who had been waiting patiently in the hallway. Without a word, he took their daughter from her arms, and together, they left—Vanessa and Kevin, a picture of quiet contentment.

Watching the happy family of three, Dave's knuckles turned white, veins bulging along the back of his clenched hand.

A relentless voice echoed in his mind: *Vanessa has a child with another man.*