Chapter 3

I was stunned by the words that came out of his mouth.

"When did you send me money?"

"I sent it every month!"

As soon as he said that, something seemed to occur to Jerome. He strode into the bathroom and called Miranda into the study.

Soon I heard her crying. When she came out, her eyes were red.

Jerome looked embarrassed. He explained to me, saying, "I gave all my salary to Miranda to manage. I told her to send you half every month. She…she must have forgotten."

"Forgotten?" I laughed in disbelief. "For one month—maybe I'd believe that. But three years? She didn't send a single cent in three years. Funny how she never forgets to eat."

My tone clearly displeased Jerome. "Nathalie, don't speak like that. Miranda manages everything in this family. It's not easy for her either. She told me the household expenses were much more than I imagined. She doesn't earn money, and those two kids are growing. She didn't pocket anything."

I could not hold it in anymore. "Her kids are growing, and mine aren't? I remember when Justin died—there was a big compensation payout. Why doesn't she use that compensation if she thinks the money isn't enough?"

Jerome snapped, "Don't be unreasonable! That money was what my brother earned with his life. How could you even think about touching it?"

That line completely silenced me.

For a moment, I was at a loss for how to react.

Maybe seeing my expression, Jerome came forward and hugged me. "Nathalie, I know you've suffered. Don't worry. From now onward, I'll personally send the money—no one else will touch it. Since you're already here, stay a few more days. I've really missed you and the kids."

He said he missed us, but at night, he still went to Miranda's room first to comfort her before returning to his own.

When he came back, he could not wait to undress me.

However, just as my clothes were halfway off, we heard a scream from outside.

We rushed out to find Alex lying on the ground crying, his face covered in blood.

My son stood nearby, at a complete loss.

Miranda ran over and picked the boy up. "Alex, what happened?"

Alex pointed at my son. "He hit me!"

Caroline, Alex's sister, immediately shoved my son. "You little bastard! How dare you hit my brother!"

Jerome's face turned dark instantly.

My son turned to look at me, his eyes filled with tears. "Mom, I didn't hit him. He fell and scraped himself."

"I'll take him to the hospital." Miranda stood up and carried Alex toward the door.

Jerome instinctively followed. "I'll go with you."

However, Miranda avoided his hand, her voice distant. "You should take care of your own family first."

After she left, disappointment was written all over Jerome's face.

He turned to my son and slapped him. "Fergus Shaw, who told you to bully your little cousin?"

My son covered his face, his voice trembling. "I didn't."

He said Alex thought he was dirty and would not let him sleep on the bed, so he slept on the floor. However, Alex forgot about it and fell off while getting up to go to the toilet, scraping his face.

Jerome did not believe it and raised his hand again. "You dare lie to me?"

I quickly grabbed his arm. "Jerome Shaw, my son doesn't lie."

He looked at me, took a few deep breaths, and then said, "Nathalie, take the kids and leave."

I froze. "Now?"

"Yes, now!" He ran his hands through his hair in frustration. "You've only been here half a day and already turned this house upside down. You wanted money, right? Just go back. I'll send it next month when I get my salary."

Then, he walked into the house and threw out the tattered bags we had brought—roughly and without a word.

Then he turned and rushed out, clearly heading after Miranda.

The front door was wide open. The cold wind howled and blew against me and the kids.

My son and daughter started crying.

"Mom, I must have done something wrong. I'll apologize to Alex. Maybe then Dad won't be mad anymore."

My heart twisted.

Even though I knew Jerome no longer loved us and his heart belonged to Miranda, I still had a sliver of hope.

However, that tiny sliver had vanished.

I took our bags and took the children with me.

My son asked, "Mom, are we going home?"

I shook my head.

I took them to the hospital.

Even though it was late at night, the emergency room was still full of people.

By the time we arrived, Alex's wound had already been treated.

Jerome held him in his arms. A family of four—all smiles and harmony.

I walked toward them with the children.

Seeing us, Jerome panicked. "Why did you follow us here? Leave now! Don't let anyone see you!"

He looked at us like we were some sort of plague.

Only Miranda was calm. She smiled at me and said, "Nathalie, Alex's injury isn't serious. Don't worry. You should go back."

With that smile still on her face, I knelt with my two children.

"Miranda, I'm begging you. Please give me back my husband. Please have mercy on us!"