The next day, the banquet unfolded with lavish extravagance.
After Walter announced the stock transfer, media outlets scrambled for coverage.
For years, the whole city had witnessed Walter spoiling Amy beyond reason–enough to spark universal envy.
Amidst the chorus of admiration, a child darted from the crowd toward Walter, calling out in a clear voice, “Daddy!”
Silence instantly blanketed the hall.
Every eye widened in shock.
Walter naturally bent to scoop up the child, turning to Amy with tender certainty. “Amy, this is the grandest surprise I’ve prepared for you.”
“I had records pulled from five hundred orphanages nationwide. Spent two months poring over files day and night.”
“After all that effort, I finally found him.”
“Look how much his eyes resemble Robert’s.”
“I’ve named him Nathan Davis.”
“Though our little sun has set, may this star warm your heart and fill our home with joy again.”
Amy’s face remained frozen, her nails digging into her palms.
So this was his elaborate scheme–parading his illegitimate child before her!
She stood rigid as Nathan in Walter’s arms suddenly reached for her neck, demanding insistently to be held.
The stunned onlookers snapped back to reality, gazing at the “perfect family” with renewed envy.
“Amy’s luck is unreal–I’m practically green with envy.”
“They say her obsession with research got their son killed, yet Walter never blamed her. He dotes on her day and night–what an absolute gem!”
“Finding a child who looks so alike? That’s devotion.”
“Don’t forget the company shares! No family background, yet he hands her everything. The man’s doting on her like there’s no tomorrow!”
Amy couldn’t force a smile. Each syrupy compliment felt like a knife twisting deeper.
When Nathan clutched her arm, she mechanically embraced him, trembling with revulsion.
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Suddenly Nathan sneezed violently.
A slender figure rushed forward, snatched the gardenia from Amy’s ear, and flung it down–yanking out a strand of hair in her haste.
The woman immediately sank to her knees, voice trembling with tears. “Please forgive my boldness, Madam… but the young master has a severe flower allergy: It could be fatal.”
The banquet hall plunged into silence, all eyes fixed on the kneeling woman who dared disrupt the scene.
Amy stared straight at her, biting her tongue until blood bloomed metallic in her mouth.
So Walter had brought her too.
Black–framed glasses, cropped hair, makeup deliberately dulling her features–Michelle pressed her forehead lower, sobbing.
“I’m a teacher from Starlight Orphanage. Raised him since he was little.”
“Forgive me, Madam–I panicked. Please, you must understand-”
Before Michelle could finish, a sharply defined hand closed around her wrist.
Walter’s brow darkened as if ready to drip with gloom. His gaze fell upon the strands of Amy’s hair scattered across the floor, his voice gravely resonating, “You dare lay hands on my wife at our first meeting.
“Were it not for Nathan’s fondness for his teacher, I’d have ended your life!”
“Come with me. Today I’ll teach you what discipline means!”
He dragged her toward the corridor behind the banquet hall, drawing collective gasps from the crowd.
At the recent charity gala, a rich heir freshly returned from overseas had deliberately knocked over Amy’s wineglass.
That very night, his family’s funding chain collapsed. By dawn, he appeared at the train station entrance, limbs bro- ken, reduced to begging.
How could this woman provoke such misfortune and survive the night?
Amy followed instinctively, only realizing she’d left the clamorous hall when silence enveloped her.
Faint moans echoed through the corridor. She turned her head, heart seizing.
Walter pressed Michelle against the wall, hands urgently hiking up her skirt.
Michelle cupped her cleavage. “Do you enjoy the teacher roleplay, Mr. Davis?”
“I brought a whip too. Punish me hard.”
“You’ll learn my strength soon enough, Ms. Campbell.”
Amy clenched her molars, blood’s metallic tang flooding her mouth.
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She watched Walter carry Michelle into a room, moans ceasing as the door slammed.
Before she could move, Nathan rushed over, wrapping his arms around her thighs with wailing cries. “Hold me! I want you to hold me!”
The three–year–old boy stomped on her feet, pinched her waist to hoist himself up, and scratched her arm until beads of blood seeped out.
Amy endured expressionless, her mind replaying the scene of Walter and Michelle entangled.
Her eyes reddened, heart bleeding.
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