CHAPTER 72: CHAPTER 72: DORIS IS ACTUALLY MY BIOLOGICAL DAUGHTER!

Just then, Timothy Xavier’s phone rang suddenly; it was his daughter calling.

This interruption made him forget about checking my computer, and he softly asked over the phone, "Doris, are you out of school yet?"

I vaguely heard the little girl’s pleading voice from the receiver, "Daddy, can you pick me up after school today? I don’t want to go home with Grandma."

Timothy hesitated, then asked, "Why?"

"Grandma is so naggy, her temper is terrible too, she keeps scolding Doris," the little girl said aggrievedly, "Daddy is the best to me, I want to be with Daddy."

Timothy’s tone unknowingly softened, "Okay, Daddy will pick you up right away."

After hanging up the phone, he instructed the driver to wait downstairs and immediately went to change clothes.

Even though he was still wrapped in bandages, nothing could stop him from picking up his daughter.

Seeing him struggle with changing, I went over to lend a hand.

"You come with me."

It was not a tone of negotiation.

I coldly replied, "I’m not interested in picking up your daughter, you go yourself!"

Thinking of this spoiled little princess coming over again made my head ache.

But Timothy said, "Don’t forget, Ethan is still inside."

I took a deep breath, forced a smile, "Okay, let’s go then!"

And so, I got in the car with him and went to the kindergarten.

On the way, Timothy told Sophia Kendall not to pick up Doris today, and she sounded displeased on the other end.

"Are you letting Doris go to your place again? That little vixen might harm my granddaughter!"

Timothy apparently disliked Sophia’s attitude too; he perfunctorily replied, "With me here, there won’t be any trouble."

After saying that, he didn’t care how his mother responded and just hung up the phone.

At the kindergarten, Doris had already come out with her little backpack on.

Today, she wore a pink cashmere dress, with her curly hair adorned with a matching bow headband, looking all rosy.

Personality aside, the little girl was still very cute.

Seeing Timothy get off the car, her eyes lit up, and she ran over.

But upon noticing me following behind him, the little girl immediately turned her head and pouted.

Just then, a little boy passing by greeted her with a smile, "Doris, your mom is so pretty!"

"She’s not my mom!"

Doris immediately retorted loudly, "My mom is a hundred times prettier than her!"

She then ran to Timothy’s side, seemingly complaining, "Daddy, why did you bring her? I don’t want to see her!"

Timothy, with an injury on his chest, couldn’t lift his daughter and crouched down, gently saying to her, "Doris, don’t forget, this lady knows how to make cakes. Today, let her make you one, okay?"

Doris sneaked a glance at me and asked, "Is that okay?"

I nodded.

Alright! Today’s million, considered earned again!

Once in the car, I took out my phone and waved it in front of Timothy.

Timothy’s face turned stiff and he immediately understood what I meant, reluctantly transferring the money to me.

Upon returning, Nanny Lowell had already brought over fresh ingredients.

I quietly went about making my cake.

This time, the little girl didn’t sit far away like before.

Instead, she stood beside me, touching this and fiddling with that.

Her little hands were on the table edge, standing on tiptoes watching me whip the cream, her bright eyes full of curiosity.

I paused my actions and looked at her.

Doris quickly stepped back a bit, stubbornly saying, "I’m just looking, I don’t want to learn!"

I shook my head helplessly. This child really isn’t likable.

"Do you want to try it?"

I asked her while looking at the half-whipped cream in my hand.

Doris was startled, a bit expectant, but didn’t dare come forward, softly asking, "Can I?"

"Yeah."

I handed the whisk to her, "Go ahead."

Doris cautiously took it, standing on tiptoes to reach the table.

The originally proud little face now appeared serious, her innocent look suddenly somewhat endearing.

When she occasionally whipped the cream and it splattered a bit, she’d stick out her tongue in embarrassment.

At this moment, I suddenly felt a burning gaze from behind.

Timothy, who had been focused on documents since we returned, unknowingly stood in the kitchen, leaning against the door frame, looking intently this way.

Just then, his phone rang with a video call sound from Serena Sawyer.

As Timothy answered, Serena’s sweet voice came through, "Timothy, I miss you and Doris so much! Mom said Doris is with you, can I see her?"

"Okay."

Timothy walked over with the phone, saying to Doris, "Come, say a few words to Mommy."

Doris, currently having fun with the cream, excitedly said, "Mom, look, I’m learning to make cakes! When you come back, I can make a cake for you!"

Serena’s face showed a hint of something unusual, asking, "Who taught you to make cakes?"

Doris replied, "It’s that annoying maid lady! Her cakes are so delicious, I want to learn too!"

I was completely speechless.

Kids, they’re always the best when they’re your own!

No matter how you care for other people’s kids, they’ll never be as close to you.

Somehow feeling irritated, I quietly stepped onto the balcony, and the conversation between Doris and Serena gradually faded away.

Mother and daughter seemed to talk for quite a while, and Doris came running with whipped cream, asking me, "I’ve finished whipping the cream, what’s next?"

"I don’t want to teach you anymore."

I didn’t hide my displeasure at all.

Doris blinked, asking in her child-like voice, "Why? Is my whipped cream bad?"

I said expressionlessly, "Since I’m the annoying maid lady, why do you eat the cakes I make?"

"I..."

Doris, like Timothy, never easily backs down.

Furiously, she said, "My dad paid you, why wouldn’t you make it!"

Timothy overheard and came over as well.

I thought he would side with her as usual, but unexpectedly, before Doris could complain, he educated his daughter, "Doris, speak nicely. You don’t like Grandma being fierce, but do you know, you’re being pretty fierce yourself right now."

Doris immediately shut her mouth, looking quite nervous, saying, "I don’t want to be like Grandma. Being fierce will make me ugly!"

Only then did Timothy look at me, "Don’t take it to heart with kids, okay?"

Again, that phrase!

In light of the million, I returned inside to continue making the unfinished cake.

Doris hurriedly followed me.

Tonight’s cake had her participation, and Timothy thoughtfully ate quite a lot after it was done.

Doris couldn’t have been happier.

Sophia called, asking when Doris would be taken back to sleep.

But the little girl climbed onto her Daddy’s bed, starting to act spoiled, "Daddy, Doris doesn’t want to go to Grandma’s, Doris wants to sleep with you."

Timothy has always indulged his daughter.

He promptly refused his mother with a few words, then asked me to take Doris to the bathroom to wash up.

Luckily, the little girl behaved relatively well, staying reasonably calm.

That night, I still slept on the couch in the living room.

Faintly, I heard Doris’ voice from inside.

"Daddy, when is Mommy coming back? I want to sleep with Mommy and Daddy. It’s been so long since we’ve all slept together!"

Timothy patiently said, "Mom is busy with work, she’ll be back in a few days."

I listened to the conversation between father and daughter inside, a kind of intimacy I could never break into.

I’m merely a temporary outsider staying here, even just listening to these warm expectations seems unnecessary.

...

Early the next morning, Serena showed up unexpectedly.

At that time, I was braiding Doris’s hair.

Because Timothy had failed several times before, Doris was running late for kindergarten.

Seeing the messy hair of the little girl, I couldn’t stand it, so I stepped in.

When Doris saw Serena, she called out "Mom," but her attention was completely on her new hairstyle.

Looking at the reflection in the mirror with her braided hair, she seemed very happy.

But Serena’s expression was extremely gloomy.

That’s when I realized.

Perhaps this woman originally wanted to send her daughter over to annoy me. Unexpectedly, in just a few days, I taught her daughter to bake cakes and braided her daughter’s hair, making her daughter quite happy.

Therefore, Serena felt a sense of crisis.

She showed up early in the morning, lugging a suitcase, probably came directly after getting off the plane.

When Timothy saw her, he asked, "Didn’t you say you were going out of town for a week of training? Why did you come back today?"

Serena smiled, saying, "I was worried Doris staying with you might disturb your rest, and I also didn’t want her to trouble Miss Ellison."

After saying that, she picked up her daughter and said, "Doris, how about Mommy takes you to kindergarten?"

"Okay! Mommy, I missed you so much!"

As she said this, she suddenly remembered something and pouted, "Mommy, why do you always make me get out of the car by myself when you take me to kindergarten? Yesterday, my classmates even mistook the maid auntie for you. But I want everyone to see my actual mom, just like other kids’ moms who take them into the classroom."

As soon as Doris finished speaking, Serena’s expression changed.

Then, she forced a smile, her tone carrying a hint of unnoticed bitterness: "Mom is a star, different from ordinary people. If Mom appears, it would cause a sensation, you know?"

Doris nodded, seeming half-understood.

Serena glanced at me disdainfully and said, "Thank you, Miss Ellison, for taking care of Doris these days. I’ll take her away now."

I directly ignored her, not acknowledging her fake courtesy.

After they left, Timothy said quietly, "Doris seems to like you more and more now."

"Really?"

I replied coldly, "I didn’t notice! Besides, I don’t need her to like me, as long as she likes you."

Timothy choked on my words and didn’t say anything else.

For several days, Serena didn’t bring Doris over.

I heard news about Doris again through a distress call from Jenna Sutton.

At that time, I was updating my novel in the living room, with Timothy working in the inner room, so it was relatively peaceful.

On the phone, Jenna’s voice shook with fear: "Zoe, what should we do? Doris... Doris had an incident."

"What happened?"

I also became nervous.

Jenna said, "Whatever you do, don’t tell Timothy. This afternoon, Doris had an allergic reaction while eating snacks in kindergarten, but we don’t know what caused it. Anyway, she foamed at the mouth and then passed out. If Timothy finds out, he won’t let The Sutton Family off the hook."

I asked, "How is she now?"

"The doctor said it’s an allergy and is currently investigating the allergen."

Jenna was close to tears, entirely at a loss.

I asked, "Which hospital are you at?"

"Veridia Central Hospital."

After Jenna finished speaking, I said, "Wait for me, I’ll be right over."

After hanging up, Timothy’s voice came from inside: "Whose call was it?"

My heart was in my throat, but I feigned calmness and said, "Jenna Sutton needs me for something. I’m heading out for a bit; I’ll be back soon."

Timothy didn’t say much else.

I grabbed my bag and sprinted to the garage.

...

Veridia Central Hospital.

When I arrived, Doris was already awake.

Jenna was clutching her chest, saying, "Thank God, I was scared to death!"

At this point, Doris was receiving an IV in the observation room, appearing to have mostly recovered.

I also breathed a sigh of relief for Jenna.

"Did the doctor mention what caused the allergy?" I asked.

Jenna said, "They’re still checking; they said wouldn’t know the results until later."

That said, she looked upset and said, "Even though the doctor said she would return to normal after the IV, it’s hard to say if she will ’tell on us,’ and if Timothy hears about this, he won’t hesitate to tear down the kindergarten!"

"Let’s go in and see the child first."

So, we went into the ward together.

Although the little girl was awake, the allergy must have been quite severe, as her lips and face were pale.

Seeing me there, she blinked in confusion: "Maid auntie? Why are you here?"

"I heard you had an allergic reaction, so I came to see you."

I tentatively asked, "Tonight, is your grandma or your mom picking you up?"

Doris pouted sullenly and said, "Mom went to work again; grandma said she’d pick me up tonight. But she doesn’t know I ended up in the hospital. I haven’t had a chance to tell her or Dad yet!"

Jenna and I both let out a breath of relief.

It was at that moment Doris suddenly recalled something and said to me, "How about you take me to Dad’s tonight! I won’t let grandma come pick me up."

I could sense that this little girl was fed up with Sophia Kendall too.

It was just as well that if Sophia found out Doris had an allergic reaction at kindergarten, her response would likely be more dramatic than Timothy’s.

So I agreed right away.

However, the little girl still looked unhappy.

I asked, "What’s wrong?"

Carefully, Doris asked, "Do you know how to bake cookies? Can you help me bake cookies tonight? Tomorrow I want to take them to my friends at kindergarten. Their moms all do it, but my mom is so busy she never does."

Jenna and I exchanged a sly glance.

I nodded and said, "I can make cookies, and I can even make lots of flavors for you to share with your friends."

"Really?"

Doris smiled widely with joy.

I said, "But you have to promise me one thing. You can’t tell your dad, mom, or grandma about your allergy today, okay?"

Doris was stunned, but being a clever child, she quickly understood.

She promised, "Don’t worry, I won’t say anything. As long as you teach me to make cookies so that my friends envy me!"

Only then did Jenna breathe a sigh of relief.

I pinched Doris’s cheek and said, "And from now on, call me ’Auntie Ellison’ or ’Aunt Zoe.’ You can’t call me ’maid auntie’ anymore, got it?"

Doris was genuinely confused, asking, "If you’re not a maid, why do you take care of my dad?"

My expression darkened slightly, unable to answer.

But to ensure I taught her to make cookies, Doris compromised, "Alright, then I’ll call you ’Auntie Ellison.’"

Just then, the doctor walked in.

"The results of the allergen tests are in. The food contained pineapple powder, and this child is allergic to pineapple. So don’t give her anything similar again."

Such a simple sentence unleashed a storm of memories in my mind.

Because, I’m allergic to pineapple too!

Suddenly, memories flashed of Timothy forcing me to donate blood to Doris.

Doris has a rare blood type, and so do I.

My fingertips turned pale from clenching too tightly as those painful memories flooded in.

The child I gave birth to back then, I didn’t even look at once. The doctor said it was a stillbirth, and my husband, afraid of my grief, requested the baby be cremated immediately.

Could it be that my daughter didn’t die?

All these years, she’s called someone else "Mom."

This realization suffocates me, climbing up like vines through my veins, almost strangling me.