A Billion Dollars for Our Eight Years

I had worked so hard for Ingrid and this family for so many years, and yet, this was how she talked about me with Gaby?

"Gaby, come with me first, okay? Daddy will explain later."

I tried to hug her, but she desperately pulled away, refusing to let me hold her. She kept repeating, "I don't want a useless daddy! I want a daddy who can earn lots of money! I want a better daddy who will always take me out and live a good life with Mommy!

"I don't want you! You're a bad daddy! You're useless!"

My heart ached like it was being torn apart. Ingrid had really gone too far this time!

I tried to forcefully take Gaby with me, but she struggled so violently that I didn't dare to grab her anymore in case I hurt her.

"I don't want a useless daddy like you! You killed my little brother! It's all your fault I don't have a little brother!"

I froze.

What did she mean I killed her younger brother?

What kind of nonsense had Ingrid been feeding her? How could she twist the truth and ruin my relationship with Gaby like that!

Why did she even tell Gaby that she had had a miscarriage? What was the point of telling our daughter such news?

Ingrid had gotten pregnant three months ago. In fact, we were only expecting because she got drunk one night and thought I was Hank for the entire night we made love.

Still, I eagerly awaited the baby's arrival, but she suddenly miscarried last month.

She said that it happened during a company team-building activity when she accidentally slipped and fell while hiking, leading to the miscarriage.

When I tried to offer her words of comfort and concern, she brushed me off in annoyance instead.

"If the baby's gone, then it's gone. We can always have another one. Stop bothering me, for goodness sake!"

She spoke so casually as though the miscarriage was just as big of a deal as the weather.

I didn't know what else to say and just shut up. I even purposely told Ingrid beforehand not to bring this up with Gaby because she was still too young to understand life and death. We shouldn't be talking about these things to her.

And yet, Ingrid had done the exact opposite. She'd even exaggerated the story to get on my nerves.

"Gaby, there are some things that you don't understand yet. Daddy will explain everything to you when you're older. Just come with Daddy now—"

Before I could finish, Ingrid suddenly barged in from behind me.

"Jordan Newman! Who gave you permission to see Gaby on your own without consulting me? Who said that you could!"

Ingrid's words were simply ridiculous. Why did I still need to ask for permission to see my own daughter?

If I had never come to see Gaby today, I would probably never have ever known how much she'd been slandering me in front of Gaby this whole time!

My anger was about to burst, but I didn't want to scare Gaby.

"Put Gaby to bed. I'll be waiting for you outside. We need to talk."

I then smiled at Gaby and bid goodbye to her, even though her tiny face was filled with nothing but disgust and hatred.

I stood outside the room. When Ingrid came out after tucking Gaby back to bed, I confronted her at once.

"What right did you have to tell Gaby all those lies? How could you slander me and accuse me of such things to drive a wedge between us!"

Ingrid didn't look like she cared. She just glared at me frustratedly and said, "I gave birth to her. I can say whatever the hell I want to her. You can't do anything about it!"

"She's our daughter! How could I not do anything about it! This is a matter between adults. We can settle scores ourselves. What's the point of bringing a child into this?"

It didn't matter how much I tried to argue with Ingrid. She still remained indifferent throughout.

This was how she always was. She clearly didn't care about Gaby, yet she still refused to hand over Gaby's custody to me and tried to control her instead!

"Don't you ever dare come back to visit her on your own again. Otherwise, you'll never see her again for the rest of your life!

"And it's Mom's birthday this weekend. You'd better show up!"

With that, she shoved me into a cab and left.

The cab driver asked me where I was going, and I just mentioned a random hotel's name.

On the way, I suddenly received a call from the hospital.

"Hello? Is this Ms. Ingrid Steele's husband? Her miscarriage test report just came in. Please come to the hospital to pick them up."

I was puzzled as to why she went to get the test. Didn't she already know why she miscarried in the first place?

So, I asked the cab driver to turn around and head toward the hospital instead. In the meantime, I also called to inquire about divorce arrangements.