Chapter 8
Suddenly, Ramon remembered that he’d promised to send a specialist for Cassidy’s treatment, but days had passed before he actually
arranged it.
That day, Brittany had clung to him, pouting and demanding attention, and he’d simply forgotten all about it.
He hadn’t even bothered to ask how Cassidy was doing or whether her surgery had gone well.
He recalled the moment Cassidy, lying in bed, clutched his hand and called out “Daddy” for the very first time–how it made his heart
tremble.
He remembered Terence’s first wobbly steps, stumbling into his arms, filling him with warmth.
He thought of Gabriella, her eyes sparkling with hope when she first married him, her dreams for their future.
All those happy memories he’d tried so hard to ignore now surged up, overwhelming him.
Brittany interrupted, urging, “Ray, come on, it’s time for the photo shoot!”
Ramon shoved her aside, furious. “Get out of my way! This can’t be happening…”
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“How could she dare to divorce me?” he thought.
The woman who’d loved him for more than a decade–who’d stayed, even through five years of his feigned illness, his violence, his insults, even after he’d thrown Cassidy down the stairs–had never left him.
How could she be the first to turn away, just when he was finally ready to make things right?
Brittany stumbled, falling to the floor, her eyes red with pain, but Ramon didn’t even reach out to help.
“Ray, how could you treat me like this?”
She sniffled, “I know you’re still thinking about Gabriella, but she’s already moved on with that Simeon guy. Why bother…?”
Ramon’s head snapped up. “What did you say?”
Brittany pulled out her phone and tapped open a photo.
Ramon saw a picture of Simeon holding me, and his world shattered. “I don’t believe it!”
Brittany lost patience. “Ray, everyone’s waiting for you.
Gabriella’s pulled stunts like this before–how can you still trust her?”
Ramon hesitated, but went through with the photo shoot, his mind elsewhere the whole time.
While the photos were being taken, the housekeeper marched over.
She was wearing my clothes, bright red lipstick, and high heels, and
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she swaggered up without hesitation. “Babe! That housekeeper of ours is outrageous–she’s suing me, demanding I pay back my wages!”
Ramon frowned at the sight of her.
The housekeeper wouldn’t let it go. “Babe, you need to teach her a lesson!”
Looking at her mean, petty face, Ramon suddenly thought back over the past few years.
He’d watched Gabriella shoulder everything alone–working, caring for the family–while he’d deliberately hired a housekeeper with her money just to spite her.
He remembered the time Gabriella had a fever of 39°C, still forcing herself to cook for the kids, while the housekeeper lounged in front of the TV eating popcorn.
Not only had he done nothing, but he’d also said, “That’s what housekeepers are for.”
He’d let the housekeeper bully Gabriella, humiliate her by throwing her underwear in her face, and spread lies about the kids right in front of him.
Was he blind, bringing such a woman into their home and letting her rule over Gabriella?
All those years, he’d pretended to be sick, burning through every last cent Gabriella had brought from her family.
He’d turned a woman who once washed her hands in milk into
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someone with rough, calloused fingers, counting every penny for groceries.
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When Terence was born weak, ending up in the ICU three times, Gabriella spent countless nights sobbing alone in the hospital corridor, while he hid at home, claiming she “couldn’t recognize people” and refusing to get involved.
When she was in a car accident, leg broken and bedridden, she called him for help–he hung up, snapping, “Don’t bother me with
housekeeper problems.”
During her third pregnancy, terrified he’d lash out again, she hid in the guest room, taking care of herself, cooking a simple New Year’s meal alone.
Meanwhile, he sat with the housekeeper, eating the feast she’d prepared, laughing, “Nothing tastes as good as babe’s cooking.”
