Future Daughter Reveals My Husband's True Love

Something inside me died a little.

"What did you just say?" I asked.

Nina scratched her head, looking a little confused. "Every time I saw you, you were always acting crazy. It was really scary. You'd grab Daddy and say you were going to kill him—something about paying with his life for your daddy's death.

"Mommy also told me to stay away from you because she was afraid you'd hurt me."

A chill ran down my spine. I bit my lip hard.

What had Malcolm done to Dad during those years that prompted me to be so vengeful?

"Nina, I was just playing a game with your daddy," I said, trying to reassure her.

I suppressed the gnawing pain in my chest, desperately trying to figure out what had happened. Then, Malcolm's voice suddenly came from behind me.

"Willow, who are you talking to?"

I couldn't let him and Nina see each other, so I hurriedly ended the call.

When I didn't answer him, he assumed I was still mad at him. So, he placed a jar of acacia honey beside me.

"I flew all the way to Southlake to get this for you," he said. "Don't be mad anymore, okay? I heard it's good for your skin."

I stared at the jar of honey, but ironically, all I tasted was bitterness.

At the hospital earlier that day, Summer had held ten jars of that same honey in her arms, looking both surprised and delighted. "Malcolm, I only mentioned it once. You actually flew all the way there to buy these for me?"

I'd stood outside the door and seen everything.

Compared to hers, the jar I got was so pitifully tiny that it looked more like a sample instead.

Malcolm and I had been dating for four years. He had the capacity to remember Summer's passing comment, yet failed to remember I was allergic to honey.

My eyes stung. I grabbed that jar of acacia honey and tossed it into the trash. "Let's break up, Malcolm."

He was in the middle of removing his suit when he froze at my words. Irritation settled over his face.

"Can you stop being so unreasonable for once?" he said. "There are already enough problems at the company. I don't have the time to spend guessing why you're upset again. Why can't you just be more like Summer? At least she's straightforward and speaks her mind."

People often revealed what they truly thought when they were angry.

Even Malcolm seemed startled by what he had said. He subconsciously clicked his tongue and let out a sigh.

This was the first time I'd heard him praise Summer. Before this, they had always been at odds. To their credit, I had never once suspected anything, not even the tiny details that would've raised eyebrows.

When Malcolm calmed down, he crouched before me and gently stroked my hair. "Alright, Willow. Let's not fight again. I'll apologize for whatever I did, okay? Once I secure the project next week, I'll take you on a vacation."

He wasn't apologizing because he was sorry. He was only afraid the project would slip away from his grasp.

Regardless, I moved into the spare bedroom. I packed up all my luggage and prepared to report to the international branch next week.

That night, my stomach pain struck again. Out of habit, I endured it silently. I didn't even bother putting on my slippers and walked to the living room to pour myself some water. Then I swallowed some painkillers.

My stomach problems had been around for years. Back when Malcolm had just started his company, he was constantly out drinking and entertaining clients. Every night, he would come home wasted.

I felt sorry for him, so I went with him to those gatherings and drank on his behalf. After a while, I ended up with a stomach condition.

There was one night when the pain was so excruciating that I couldn't even get out of bed. I asked Malcolm to bring me my medicine, but he didn't even open his eyes and said, "Just bear with it. I have work tomorrow. I need my sleep."

I broke out in a cold sweat from the pain and forced myself to endure the entire night. By the next morning, when I was rushed to the emergency room, I had already passed out from the pain.

The living room was dimly lit. I glanced toward the entrance and saw Malcolm's slippers tossed messily by the door, as though he had left in a hurry.

When I returned to the bedroom, I couldn't fall asleep, so I scrolled on my phone. That was when I saw Summer's latest social media post.

It was a photo showing a table full of food from all across the country, captioned, "Got hungry in the middle of the night. Thankfully, someone kind brought me food. What a wonderful night."

I buried my face in my knees and let out a bitter laugh.

If he wanted to, he would. In my case, I simply wasn't worth his effort.