Raising Someone Else's Kid? Not Me

Jessica knew that her parents would never offer to help raise Billy and Maisie. She had no intention of giving up on me, her so-called compliant husband.

She softened her tone and said, "Fine. I guess having one more child won't make much of a difference. We'll take care of Olivia."

Although Billy and Maisie were only three, they were already surprisingly skilled at reading the room and picking up on subtle cues.

Time and time again, they rejected Olivia's efforts to be friendly. After enough of these incidents, Jessica even began to verbally lash out at the five-year-old.

"There aren't enough rooms in the house. How about we remodel the bathroom and have Olivia live there?" she suggested.

"What exactly do you mean by 'not enough'?" I replied, looking up. "We've got two spare bedrooms and a study. We can just turn the study into an extra bedroom."

"But what if Maisie wants to learn piano or dance in the future? She'll need a room to practice in."

Jessica wore that all-too-familiar look of entitlement. I sneered inwardly, but my expression stayed calm and stoic.

I said, "Either you take your two kids and move out, or we convert the study."

Maybe I had changed too much lately; Jessica didn't have the nerve to argue.

Still, it was clear that she wasn't on board. When the renovations started, she even suggested giving the largest guest room to Billy.

"I've already compromised so much," she said. "You're not going to refuse me this time, are you?"

Seeing her act so coy sent a wave of unease rushing through me.

"The largest room should go to Olivia," I said. "Given that she's the oldest, it's only right that she gets more space."

My words sparked Jessica's anger again. In front of the workers, she thrust a finger at my face. With tears filling her eyes, she began unloading her frustrations.

"Be honest with me. Is Olivia your biological daughter from a relationship you never told me about? Your behavior has changed dramatically since she arrived."

Although the workers carried on with their tasks, they remained alert, eager not to miss a single snippet of gossip.

"If that's the angle you want to take, then fine. Honestly, Billy and Maisie look a lot like you. If your fertility hadn't been an issue, I wouldn't have had to adopt Olivia at all."

My seemingly casual voice carried a sting of sarcasm. To Jessica, it hit like a physical blow.

She let out a couple of strained laughs before going quiet.

…

From that point on, life for the five of us truly began.

In my past life, I had been very fond of Billy and Maisie. Determined to give them the best, I worked tirelessly and saved every penny. When they turned four, I enrolled them in extracurricular classes.

At first, Billy and Maisie weren't very enthusiastic; they often ran to Jessica to complain.

Behind the scenes, however, Jessica frequently drew comparisons between them and other children, pointing out those who excelled in music or art. She insisted that Billy and Maisie couldn't afford to fall behind, or they would lose their edge at school.

Yet whenever the kids begged for her help, she would put on a helpless, heartbroken expression and say, "This is your dad's decision. He's the breadwinner, after all. What I say doesn't count."

During every piano lesson, Billy and Maisie would look at me with resentment. Back then, I thought they were simply too young to understand and would come around as they grew older.

Nonetheless, it was clear now that Jessica was playing the part of the "good parent". She reaped the benefits of their lessons while painting me as the villain who forced them to practice.

In contrast, Olivia was mature and thoughtful beyond her years. She helped around the house in every way she could. When I came home from a long day at work, she would always ask me if I was tired.

Whenever this happened, Jessica would roll her eyes and mock Olivia for "sucking up" to me.

Given that Olivia had just turned five, I asked if she wanted to take an extracurricular class.

She said she'd go along with whatever I decided. But when Jessica overheard our conversation, she came running over, insisting that I couldn't favor one child over the others—Billy and Maisie had to be signed up too.

Although paying for classes for all three children was a significant financial strain, I simply nodded and agreed.

Jessica was thrilled, showing no concern that Billy and Maisie still hadn't formed much of a connection with her. At just three years old, they could barely even hold their spoons properly.

On the very first day of piano lessons, Billy and Maisie were already screaming that they wanted to go home. Nothing could convince them to stay.

Sitting still was already a struggle for children, let alone practicing tedious piano techniques.

Olivia, however, was a model student. By the end of the day, the teacher couldn't stop praising her.

Billy and Maisie burst into tears, adamantly refusing to carry on. But when Jessica saw how much praise Olivia received, her eyes immediately widened in shock.

She scolded Billy and Maisie harshly, insisting that they had no choice but to attend the class.