A Wedding Night Gone Terribly Wrong novel Chapter 35

"Mommy, Mommy, wake up~"

Winifred opened her eyes. Her precious daughter, rocking messy bedhead, was sitting near her shoulder, sleepily scratching her back while mumbling.

"Mommy, Demi is knocking. She's calling for you."

Winifred heard the cries for help perfectly well. She also knew exactly what the girl was crying about.

That whole family was rotten to the core. Let them deal with their own mess.

They weren't worth her getting up at 6 AM every day to serve them like royalty.

"Ignore it. My babies are still sleeping," she murmured, pulling Annie into her arms for a cuddle.

"Mommy~"

"Yes?"

"Are you not going to work today?"

"I am, but it's still early."

"Demi is already awake. Shouldn't you go make breakfast?"

"Mommy isn't cooking today."

"Oh." Annie tilted her little head up. "Then what are we eating?"

"I'm taking you both out for breakfast."

Annie nodded enthusiastically. "Okay~"

She excitedly turned to her brother. "Seth, Mommy is taking us to a fancy hotel for breakfast!"

"Okay," Seth replied calmly. He was lying in his toddler bed, his blanket perfectly straightened, his small hands resting properly on his stomach.

Smack! A warm, sloppy kiss landed on Winifred's cheek.

"Mommy, can I use my allowance to treat you to breakfast today?" Annie asked.

Winifred found it almost comical.

Eleanor was one of those rare, truly heartless mothers. Back in the day, after giving birth to two girls, her obsession with having a son completely warped her. Sharon, as the second daughter, never had a good day in that house.

When Eleanor finally got her precious boy, Quentin was born with a severe congenital condition.

They packed the baby in a box that very night and abandoned him in the pine forest up the mountain. That forest was notoriously known as a graveyard for unwanted infants—villagers would leave disabled babies or unwanted girls there. Woodcutters often heard the hoarse, desperate cries of infants, and gatherers sometimes found torn baby clothes scattered in the brush.

Knowing their son would likely be eaten by wild animals, Eleanor and her husband still did it.

Quentin was lucky. Chester Shultz, Winifred's adoptive grandfather, had been passing through on his travels. He fought off the beasts and saved the baby. He took him to the city and paid out of pocket for his corrective surgery.

Chester raised him until he was seven. Everyone who visited Sterling Peak for medical help praised the boy as a prodigy destined for greatness.

When Eleanor and her husband heard the rumors, they marched up the mountain and demanded their son back.

If Eleanor could throw away the son she birthed, what on earth did a granddaughter like Demi mean to her?