I'm Done: Sold Out for His Bastard Daughter

The interview was split into two parts, with the second taking place at our home.

By the time Julian White arrived with the reporters, I had just put our son, Jude White, to bed. He barely glanced at me.

After shrugging off his coat, he picked up our adopted daughter, Rosy White, who had been watching TV, and pinched her chubby cheeks with a fond smile.

"Did Mommy give you a hard time today?"

It was his daily routine question.

I had always thought he was teasing, but there was a different edge to his tone today. He seemed worried that I might mistreat the daughter of his first love, Vivian Bennett, while he was away.

"Mr. White, you treat your adopted daughter so well."

"If Ms. Bennett were still alive, she would be delighted to see her only daughter loved like her own."

"If nothing had gone wrong, the two of you would probably be a much-admired couple by now."

A wistful look crossed Julian's face, and a small smile played at his lips.

I stood to the side, clearing my throat twice.

The room fell into an awkward pause. The host seemed to realize too late that his earlier remarks had been inappropriate.

"Mrs. White—"

"Naomi, have you washed Rosy's clothes for school tomorrow?" Julian interrupted. "I can't trust the nanny to do it properly. You need to hand-wash them yourself."

Rosy was completely used to him bossing me, and she toddled over on her stubby little legs, dumping all the clothes she had messed up today into my arms.

"Go on, hurry," Julian urged.

All eyes were on me, filled with judgment, disdain, and contempt. In that instant, I felt as small and exposed as a stray dog on the street. Perhaps in Julian's eyes, I had always been nothing more than a slightly more useful housekeeper.

I lowered my head in humiliation, and a wave of bitterness swelled in my throat.

"Julian, I'm not washing them. I'm your wife, not the housekeeper."

He frowned, glancing at me with a hint of curiosity. "Naomi, what do you mean by that?"

"I saw your interview today," I said, gripping my hands and forcing myself to look at him. "You gave all our shared assets to someone else's child. Why?"

Julian shot me a sharp look. "What do you mean?"

He covered Rosy's ears. "Rosy is my child. Naomi, when I brought her home to raise her, I gave you the choice to take care of her. You chose to do it."

As I looked at him, a coldness settled deep in my heart.

When I was close to my due date five years ago, Julian vanished for seven days and nights. I searched everywhere for him, but the stress eventually pushed me into premature labor, and Jude was born two weeks early.

Julian only showed up after I had finished giving birth. Just as I finally relaxed and was about to place our son in his arms, he beat me to it and held out a swaddled baby to me.