Chapter 2

The neighbor's rooster crowed several times downstairs before I finally shook off the shock of the night.

Scarlett seemed annoyed by my sluggishness this morning. She frowned and asked,

“Liam, what are you thinking about? I’ve called you a few times already. The baby needs to eat; why aren’t you making his formula?”

When I still didn’t get up, she shot me a disdainful look, her eyes practically overflowing with contempt:

“Honestly, you’re good for nothing but making money.”

The old me wouldn’t have even noticed the sarcasm hidden in her words. I would have naively thought she was complimenting my earning ability.

No wonder my friends always said I’d changed completely after meeting Scarlett, that I’d become a complete idiot when it came to love.

I never denied it, nor did I feel embarrassed or ashamed. In fact, I thought it was just the basic skill a man needed to have for the woman he loved.

Turns out, it was all just wishful thinking on my part.

Looking at the woman before me, both familiar and strange, I got up and expertly prepared the formula, then gently slipped the nipple into our second baby’s mouth.

What exactly did she mean by "useless"?

She said she wanted to maintain her figure and refused to breastfeed, and I supported that.

She said she needed to recover quickly and couldn’t carry the baby, and I supported that too.

Aside from the month she spent at the postpartum care center, whenever I was home, I handled everything for both kids, from feeding to changing diapers.

You could even say I was a full-time stay-at-home dad.

But now, the thought that these two children might not be mine weighed on me more heavily than the entire world.

“I want those croissants from the bakery on Elm Street. Go get them.” Scarlett smiled sweetly, playing with her phone as she gave me orders.

I agreed.

Secretly, I collected hair samples from both kids. Then, pretending I had an errand, I found my childhood best friend, Leo, who lived not far from me.

“Leo, I need a favor,” I said, getting straight to the point.

Leo’s sleepy eyes widened instantly when he saw me.

“Damn it, you’re actually out! I was wondering if you’d ever leave the house! Seriously, you’ve become unrecognizable, all because of a woman.”

His rambling made me smile bitterly.

“I think I’m being cuckolded,” I said, my voice hollow.

Leo froze for a second, then burst into applause.

“Congrats, congrats! You’re finally getting out of this mess!”

“All of us guys told you, that woman was no good, but you were like under a spell, completely impervious to reason!”

Back when Scarlett and I first met, none of my friends approved.

Before we became official, I took Scarlett to meet my friends. Normally, she was impeccably dressed, but that day, she just threw on a wrinkled dress and flip-flops to meet my friends.

That outfit, which clearly showed she didn't care about making a good impression, was one thing. But she also lacked even basic politeness towards them.

Back then, I was such a fool, thinking she was just nervous to meet my friends!

Later, after Scarlett and I officially got together, she stopped me from hanging out with them. Whenever I said I wanted to meet friends, she’d pick a fight.

At first, I resisted a little, but under her constant nagging, the frequency of my meet-ups with friends dwindled from two or three times a month to once every two or three months.

Then, it became once every six months, or even a year.

Even our wedding invitations didn't reach them because of her interference; I had to deliver them in person, one by one.

Thinking about all those past incidents, my heart grew even more bitter.

“Here!” Leo must have seen my gloom; he offered me a cigarette.

But I shook my head.

“Can’t. Bad for the kids. I quit.”

“Idiot,” Leo said, no longer trying to persuade me. He just puffed away at his own cigarette.

I pulled out the small bag containing my and the kids’ hair.

“Help me out. This is my hair and the two kids’ hair. Can you get them tested for me? And when the results come in, I need you to tell me immediately.”

Leo held the “hot potato,” his voice trembling. He stammered,

“No way, man, I thought you were joking. You’re serious about this?”

“What happened to make things this big? Are both kids not yours?”

At that, Leo seemed to remember something. He paused, then took a deep drag.

“Could it be I wasn’t mistaken that day? Was that really Scarlett in that car?”

“The Cullinan?” I blurted out.

He instinctively nodded, then looked at me with sympathy, saying earnestly,

“My condolences, buddy. Don’t worry, I’ll get it done for you. One day, I can get you the results in one day.”