Chapter 3: Indulging Her Every Whim

Without looking up, Huo Congli said, “Speak.”

The pressure in the car was suffocating. Special Assistant Li shifted uneasily in his seat.

“Isn’t it a little risky to leave the young master alone with Madam?”

Huo Yujing was Congli’s only child, raised from birth as the Huo family’s future heir. There was no question how important he was.

The car fell deathly silent.

Congli slowly raised his eyes, a cold smile touching his lips. “What are you trying to say? That my wife would hurt our child?”

Li’s concern wasn’t unfounded. In their eyes, Su Jingwan had never had a good reputation. She’d schemed her way into a night with Congli, then used her pregnancy to marry into the family. Even afterward, she had continued to keep Ji Huaizhi as her pretty boy.

Others might not know such private matters, but as Congli’s personal assistant, Li handled his affairs and knew them all too well.

Congli indulged Jingwan in everything, to the point that he seemed unable to live without her. His only condition was that she never ask for a divorce.

Even knowing she used his money to support Ji Huaizhi, he had always turned a blind eye.

If Jingwan didn’t love Congli, how could she love their child? All she thought about was the man living off her.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Huo. I spoke out of turn.”

Congli couldn’t bear to hear anyone say a word against her.

“She’ll be good to him,” he said softly, as if reassuring himself. “I believe in her.”

* * *

At the Huo residence, Jingwan had just settled into bed for a lovely nap when the door opened a crack.

A fuzzy little head appeared. Little Yu stood in the doorway clutching a storybook, too timid to come in. “Mommy, can I come in and stay in the same room with you?”

His caution brought another wave of guilt. How badly had she treated him before?

“Of course. Come in.”

The boy visibly brightened, though he still didn’t dare climb onto the bed. He went around to the side nearest her and leaned against the mattress, looking up with big, watery eyes. “Mommy…”

Jingwan had never cared for him herself and wasn’t used to being around children. For a moment, she had no idea what to do.

Then she spotted the book in his arms. Saved. “Do you want a story? I’ll read you one.”

At least they would have something to do instead of staring awkwardly at each other.

She moved over onto Congli’s pillow, catching the pleasant scent of his expensive cologne. Then she patted the space beside her. “Come up and lie next to me.”

Yujing stared at her from the bedside. When he realized he could lie next to his mother, his eyes grew brighter still. “Can I really come up?”

“Yes.”

He climbed up slowly, obedient as a puppy, and her heart softened. She took the book. “What story would you like?”

The sight of the words made her sleepy already. She yawned.

“Mommy, I want to read to you. You’re sleepy, and a bedtime story will help you sleep better.” He spoke with great seriousness and even cited his father. “Daddy told me so. He reads to me every night.”

Jingwan touched his forehead. Reassured that his fever was gone, she said, “All right. I’ll listen.”

He opened the book. “Mommy, which language would you like? There are stories in Chinese, English, and French…”

She leaned over. Sure enough, it was a trilingual storybook. “Huo Congli has started teaching you languages already?”

Wasn’t Little Yu not even three yet?

“French, then.”

She couldn’t understand French, which would make it easier to fall asleep.

“Okay. Close your eyes, Mommy. I’ll tell you the story of Sleeping Beauty.”

As his sweet little voice filled the room, her eyelids grew heavier. People said children’s voices could soothe the soul. Perhaps they were right.

Outside, the hallway seemed peaceful, but a crowd had gathered at the door. The housekeeper pressed an ear against it, afraid Madam might mistreat the young master.

“Why is she so quiet today?”

“Something’s wrong when things are this unusual.”

“Could this be the calm before the storm?”

“Shh! Keep your voices down.”

Inside, Jingwan was fast asleep.

Little Yu closed the book, his nose prickling. He had never been this close to his mother before.

He crept over and nestled into her arms. Closing his eyes, he savored their warmth and the comforting scent that surrounded her.

Being sick was wonderful. When he was sick, Mommy loved him.

He liked being sick.

To the little boy, illness was the reason he could have this warm, happy moment with her.

* * *

The Huo Group building soared above the clouds, a landmark in the bustling city.

Inside the conference room, executives presented their quarterly reports one after another. Each held their back rigid and spoke with care, terrified that a mistake would draw Congli’s icy gaze.

He looked through the documents, his cold presence keeping everyone on edge.

His phone vibrated quietly. The message was from Little Yu.

His brows lifted slightly, and the chill in his expression eased.

The boy had sent a photo of himself with Jingwan.

Little Yu: Daddy, Mommy put me to sleep.

Congli enlarged the photo. Jingwan’s long hair lay across the pillow, a few strands against her temple. Her features were gentle, her face bare of makeup and naturally beautiful.

She was sleeping on his pillow.

The realization shattered his composure. His breathing faltered.

Jingwan never slept on his pillow. She only slept with him.

His taut jaw gradually relaxed. A smile crept onto his lips as his fingertips brushed the screen, and much of his earlier chill melted away.

The executives exchanged startled looks, but no one dared interrupt.

Congli saved the photo and replied: Good boy. Don’t wake Mommy.

Little Yu: I know, Daddy. Don’t worry.

Only after reading the reply did Congli speak again. “Continue.”

* * *

Near noon, Assistant Li entered the office to find Congli wrestling with something on his phone.

In all his years at his side, Li had never seen that expression on his face. Even the thorniest business rivalry had never left him so hesitant.

Thinking something serious must have happened, he glanced at the screen. It was Congli’s conversation with his wife.

The chat was filled with money transfers.

Li managed to make out the message Congli had typed but couldn’t bring himself to send:

Wanwan, may I come home for lunch?