Chapter 132
After hearing Jack's bossy words, Milly's little eyebrows immediately furrowed.
She didn't cry or make a fuss, but seriously argued back, "It's not yours, you gave it to me to make up for what you did."
"Mom told me that you broke my Barbie doll last time, and Dad even hit your hand because of it and made you apologize."
"You broke someone else's stuff and won't admit it, and you still say it's yours."
Jack clearly didn't expect Milly to talk back like this, and to bring up the time he got hit in front of everyone.
He instantly lost face, his face turning bright red. In his embarrassment and anger, he actually reached out and pushed Milly's shoulder hard.
Milly wasn't prepared. Her tiny body stumbled backward and fell onto the carpet on her bottom.
Although the carpet was soft and Milly didn't get hurt, this sudden attack still scared her. Her eyes immediately turned red and filled with tears.
But she bit her lower lip tightly, stubbornly refusing to cry out loud.
Jack stood in front of her, looking down from above, his little face full of arrogance and smugness, his voice shrill, "It IS mine. In this house, everything is mine!"
"All my toys! My snacks! My room! Even that little broken room of yours will be mine later!"
"Dad said when we get a dog, we'll keep it in your old room! You won't get any of it!"
He got more excited as he talked, as if he'd found the perfect weapon to hurt Milly, "You and your mom are just outsiders living off my family. You think you can take my stuff? Dream on!"
Milly's mouth drooped, tears swirling in her big eyes, looking extremely wronged.
She wanted to cry, but maybe my earlier words had given her strength, or maybe the stubbornness in her bones made her not want to show weakness in front of her bully. She tried hard to hold it in, her little shoulders shaking.
Just then, I walked out of the kitchen carrying the fruit Linda had cut.
I immediately saw Milly sitting on the floor, her eyes red, fighting back tears.
Meanwhile, Jack stood with his hands on his hips, looking like a victor.
My heart felt like it had been stabbed with a needle, contracting in pain.
"Jack!" I put down the fruit plate, my voice suddenly turning cold, and quickly walked over, "What did you do to Milly again?"
Seeing my expression, Jack's attitude weakened a bit, but he still stuck his neck out, complaining first, "She lost her balance and fell by herself! What's it got to do with me? She wanted to play with my Barbie doll, I wouldn't give it to her, and she was about to cry. How embarrassing!"
"You're not even my real mom, and she's not my real sister. You guys have no right to touch our family's stuff. I'm not wrong, so what does she have to cry about?"
Every word was like an icy knife.
I walked up to him with a cold face, looked at him, and said coldly, "Jack, apologize to Milly right now. Otherwise, I'll let you taste what a slap feels like again."
Jack was intimidated by my icy stare and stepped back half a step, but still wouldn't give in, "I... I won't!"
"Won't apologize?" I glanced at how he instinctively covered his left cheek, my tone even colder, "Then when my hand lands on your face, you can't blame me for not teaching you beforehand what manners and respect mean!"
Jack suddenly remembered the slap he got at the kindergarten gate last time because I stood up for Milly.
The burning pain and the humiliation of that moment instantly flooded his memory. His hand covering his left cheek tightened, and a clear flash of fear crossed his face.
After all, he was just a five-year-old kid who bullied the weak and feared the strong.
Under my clear attitude and threat of force, his bit of arrogance finally died down.
He glared hard at Milly on the floor, then quickly glanced at me, reluctantly squeezing out a mumbled phrase through his teeth, "Sorry."
His voice was as small as a mosquito's buzz, completely insincere.
But I knew this was already his limit.
For Jack, who had been spoiled by Sarah and George, being able to say this apology was already not easy.
I didn't push him further and quit while I was ahead.
I turned around, bent down and picked up Milly who was trying hard to hold back tears, gently patting her back and kissing her soft cheek, "Milly, don't be scared. It's okay now, Mommy's here."
I whispered in her ear, "See, people who do wrong things should apologize, no matter who they are."
Milly leaned against me, her little hands tightly gripping my clothes, nodding hard. Tears finally couldn't be held back and rolled down in big drops.
But these weren't tears of grievance, more like releasing pressure and relying on the comfort she received.
She sobbed and said, "Mommy, I didn't want his doll... I just... just thought what he said wasn't right..."
"Mommy knows, Milly is the most sensible." I wiped away her tears with heartache, "We don't care about his stuff. The gift Grandma gave Milly, Mommy will definitely get it for Milly. It belongs to Milly."
After comforting Milly, I sat down at the dining table holding her and started feeding her fruit, completely ignoring Jack standing nearby with a face full of resentment and defiance.
Jack's eyes darted back and forth between us, his expression extremely complicated.
There was anger, jealousy, dissatisfaction at being ignored, and a trace of confusion and awkwardness that even he probably didn't notice.
Watching the intimate and natural interaction between Milly and me, watching Milly gradually relax in my arms and eat fruit in small bites, he suddenly felt that the pasta and steak in front of him didn't seem so appealing anymore.
I don't know what came over him, but he suddenly shouted loudly, full of spite and provocation, "I won't eat food you didn't make. I want to eat your blueberry pancakes! Right now!"
Blueberry pancakes.
That was what he used to love pestering me to make, and one of his unreasonable requests I used to satisfy most often.
Even when it wasn't blueberry season, I would find ways to go to import supermarkets to buy expensive frozen blueberries, or substitute with other fruits, just to coax him into eating a few more bites.
Back then, I always indulged him in every way, afraid he'd go hungry, afraid he'd be unhappy.
After he ate and drank his fill and ran off happily to play, I'd realize I was still hungry and could only shovel down a few bites of cold food.
Looking back now, it was really pathetic and ridiculous.
I didn't even lift an eyelid, continuing to carefully pick out fish bones for Milly, my voice so indifferent it had no warmth, "There aren't any. Eat it or don't."
Jack probably didn't expect me to refuse so decisively, without even a word of explanation or comfort.
He froze, mouth open, looking at me and then at the food Linda had carefully prepared on the table, his face showing a mix of shock and anger.
He probably wanted to keep making a scene, wanted to throw things, wanted to use more extreme behavior to get my attention.
But when his eyes met my emotionless gaze, all those tantrum tactics seemed to get stuck in his throat.
He stood behind us, looking at Milly and me with a complicated expression.
Milly ate in small bites, occasionally looking up at me with a dependent smile.
And all my attention was on Milly.
No one was looking at him. No one cared whether he ate or not. He was no longer the center of this space.
The expression on Jack's face changed again and again, from anger to grievance, from grievance to a kind of frustration that almost made him cry.
Finally, I don't know if he figured something out, or was just driven by hunger and some inexplicable, unclear emotion, but he actually didn't continue making a scene.
He ran over and plopped down across from us, shouting to Linda who was still busy in the kitchen, "Linda, get me some food, I want to eat!"
Linda quickly responded and brought him a bowl of food.
Jack picked up the bowl and started eating. Although he still muttered under his breath while eating, he didn't flip the table or go on a hunger strike.
He just kept his head down, quickly shoveling food into his mouth, occasionally lifting his eyes to quickly glance at Milly and me enjoying ourselves across from him, then quickly lowering his head again, his eyes carrying a complex emotion that even he probably couldn't understand.
I ate calmly, occasionally wiping the corners of Milly's mouth.
I knew that with spoiled kids like Jack, giving in and satisfying them without principles would only make them worse.
Clear boundaries and a cold attitude would actually make him restrain himself a bit.
More importantly, I wanted Milly to see that Mommy was her support.
Mommy wouldn't let her be wronged because of anyone or anything.