Daughter Called Another Man “Dad”,So I Left

On the day of the twins' birthday, the CEO wife brought her first love home.

Watching the two of them together, inseparable, Wilfred Dickerson finally decided to let go.

"Hildegarde, I don't love you anymore. I'm setting you free."

"Wilfred, can you please stop making a scene?"

"I'm not making a scene. From now on, I just want to live for myself."

Five years ago, Hildegarde Pruitt—the eldest daughter of one of Cloudhaven's most powerful families—had her heart shattered when her childhood sweetheart abandoned her for a marriage alliance overseas.

In her despair, she agreed to an arranged marriage of her own.

After the wedding, Wilfred gave up everything for her. He believed his devotion could melt her icy heart, that sincerity would be met with sincerity. But in the end, it was nothing more than wishful thinking.

Hildegarde's heart had always belonged to the man who left her.

Now, that man was back.

Wilfred finally saw things clearly. He decided to give them both a dignified way out.

That day, he carried his luggage in one hand and his daughter in the other, walking past Hildegarde and her first love without a word.

Hildegarde barely glanced at him. Her voice was cool and detached. "Wilfred, if you walk out that door today, don't think you can come back so easily."

"Don't worry, Hildegarde. I won't be coming back."

"From here on out, our paths won't cross again."

——

For the twins' birthday banquet, Hildegarde had invited nearly every prominent figure in Cloudhaven's business circles.

At the head table, Hilary Pruitt clung to Patrick Lyons's arm, calling him "Daddy Patrick" with sugary affection.

Patrick smiled and lifted the five-year-old onto his lap, planting a kiss on her chubby cheek. Then he turned to look at Wilfred, who stood off to the side like hired help, and smirked.

"Now, Hilary, that's not quite right. Wilfred is your real father. When there are people around, you should call me Uncle Patrick. When we're alone, then you can call me Daddy Patrick."

Laughter rippled through the banquet hall.

All eyes turned to Wilfred, glinting with amusement.

Hildegarde spared him a single glance, her gaze as cold as frost. "Wilfred, what are you standing there for?"

"Patrick said he wanted those butter tarts you make. Why haven't you brought them out yet?"

Wilfred slowly lifted his head. His eyes moved from Hilary to Hildegarde.

Hildegarde Pruitt was the eldest daughter of the Pruitt family, one of Cloudhaven's five great houses. At only twenty-six, she helmed the Pruitt Group, with a net worth approaching ten billion dollars. Every man in Cloudhaven considered her the untouchable goddess of the business world.

Five years ago, her childhood sweetheart Patrick Lyons had left to marry another woman abroad.

The news had devastated her. She drowned herself in alcohol night after night.

One evening, stumbling out of a bar, she was cornered by a group of thugs. They dragged her into an alley, and just as they were about to assault her, Wilfred—on his way home from work—intervened without hesitation.

He fought them off and pulled her from their grasp.

That night, whether out of gratitude or revenge against the man who'd abandoned her, they checked into a hotel and spent the night together.

The next morning, Wilfred woke with his body aching. Hildegarde was already dressed, watching him with cold eyes. She gave him two choices.

One: Go to Family Court with her and register their marriage. Become a live-in son-in-law for the Pruitt family.

Two: She would accuse him of assault and personally see him put on trial.

He chose the first option without hesitation.

And just like that, for the next five years, he stumbled into life as the Pruitt family's live-in son-in-law.

Hildegarde gave him twin daughters, as lovely as porcelain dolls.

To repay her for bearing his children, Wilfred willingly stayed, taking on the role of househusband—cooking, cleaning, caring for the elderly and the young.

For Hildegarde, for his two precious daughters, he poured his youth into the kitchen without a single complaint.

Then, six months ago, Patrick ended his four-and-a-half-year marriage abroad and returned to Cloudhaven.

From that point on, Hildegarde came home less and less.

A week ago, she claimed she had a business trip. Instead, she took Patrick and Hilary to Phuket for a vacation.

That day, Hildegarde forgot to restrict her social media post. She uploaded a photo of herself and Patrick holding Hilary on a sunlit beach—a perfect "family portrait."

It was also their wedding anniversary.

When Wilfred saw that photo, his heart shattered.

"Mommy, Mommy! I don't want Daddy! I don't want Daddy! I want Daddy Patrick to be my daddy! Daddy is no good at anything. He's just a boring old hick!"

Hilary's shrill voice cut through his thoughts.

Hildegarde gazed at Patrick, her eyes soft with affection. She pinched Hilary's rosy cheek and cooed, "Alright, alright. Daddy Patrick can be your daddy. Mommy promises, okay?"

Then she turned to Wilfred, and her expression went cold again.

"Wilfred, what are you still doing here? Haven't you embarrassed yourself enough? Get to the kitchen and make Patrick's tarts!"

Wilfred's heart felt like it was being carved up with a knife.

Everything inside him turned to ash.

Without a word, he walked back to the kitchen.

He carefully removed the birthday cake he'd baked from the oven—his final gift to his daughters.

Once he brought the cake out and celebrated one last birthday with them, he would leave this house forever.

Then a small hand wrapped around his leg from behind.

"Daddy!"

Wilfred looked down.

It was Penelope Dickerson.

Hildegarde had given him twin daughters. The elder was Hilary; the younger was Penelope.

Looking at Penelope's delicate face and her wide, innocent eyes, Wilfred fought back tears. He reached down and stroked her hair. "Tell Daddy—what's your birthday wish?"

"I want to be with Daddy forever."

"Daddy... are you going to divorce Mommy?"

Penelope's big eyes brimmed with hurt.

She was the younger twin, but she was remarkably bright. At three, she'd shown intelligence far beyond her years. By four, Wilfred had started teaching her calligraphy.

After a year of practice, she could already read many characters.

She must have found the divorce papers he'd hidden in his study drawer.

Wilfred couldn't hold back any longer. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

He knelt and pulled her into his arms.

"Then let me ask you something. If Daddy really divorces Mommy, do you want to stay with Daddy, or with Mommy and your sister?"

"I want Daddy!"

Wilfred smiled.

His battered heart finally found a sliver of comfort.

He took Penelope's small hand in his.

In that moment, his resolve solidified.

If Hildegarde wanted to be with her childhood sweetheart, if Hilary wanted Patrick to be her father—fine. He would give them what they wanted.

All he needed was Penelope.

He pushed open the kitchen door, walked into the dining room, and set the cake on the table.

"Hilary, this is the cake Daddy made for you."

"I don't want it! I don't want it! I don't want Daddy's ugly cake! It's so ugly! I want the fancy cream cake Daddy Patrick is getting me—the one with lots and lots of chocolate!"

Hilary shook her head furiously from Patrick's lap.

"Of course, of course. Daddy Patrick will get it for you." Patrick held her close, his voice dripping with indulgence.

Hildegarde sat beside them, a faint smile on her lips.

In that moment, the three of them looked more like a real family than Wilfred ever had with them.

"Hilary, you can't eat chocolate cake!" Penelope piped up, her voice soft but urgent. "Don't you remember what the doctor said? You and I are both allergic to chocolate. If you eat it, you'll get all red and bumpy!"

"Oh, just a little bit won't hurt!" Patrick waved dismissively, still holding Hilary. But when his gaze shifted to Penelope, a flicker of distaste crossed his face.

Penelope was perceptive. She didn't like Patrick, and he didn't like her.

Hildegarde's expression remained icy. "Wilfred, take that cake away. Patrick already ordered a proper one. It'll be here soon."

Wilfred didn't move.

Instead, he picked up a knife and cut the cake in half. He held out one piece to Hilary.

"Hilary, listen to Daddy. Your sister's right—you can't have chocolate cake. It'll make you sick."

"No! No! No!" Hilary wailed. "Your cake is ugly! It's ugly just like you! I'm not eating your stupid cake! I'm waiting for Daddy Patrick's big chocolate cream cake!"

"Wilfred, do you not understand plain English?!"

Hildegarde shot to her feet. "Take your pathetic cake and get it out of here. My daughter doesn't want it!"

"If she doesn't want it, then she doesn't have to eat it."

Wilfred looked at Hilary, and a calm smile settled on his face. "Hilary, you just said you want Daddy Patrick to be your real daddy, right? If that's your birthday wish, then Daddy will make it come true."

"From now on, Daddy Patrick is your daddy."

He lifted his head and met Hildegarde's eyes. His gaze was steady, more peaceful than it had ever been.

"Hildegarde, let's get a divorce. Starting today, Hilary stays with you. Penelope comes with me."