Free Web NovelChapter 405: Chapter 402: I Love You
Dorothy Ellsworth gulped down her milk, wiped her mouth, and said to Chloe Marshall, "Mommy, I’m all done! I remember now, I’m the big sister. They both have to call me Big Sister. When I get to preschool, I’m going to announce this major event. Hmph! From now on, I’ll protect the two of them, because they’re my little brothers."
"Yes, you’re the big sister. You need to lead by example, not always rely on your little brothers."
"Sigh. I’m a little jealous that Auntie got to have two at once. Mommy, why didn’t you have two?"
Chloe Marshall said patiently, "Do you think having two at once is easy? Mommy had just one of you, and I did all the dirty work to raise you. Was that easy? And here you are, complaining about me."
Dorothy giggled, hopped off her chair, and wrapped her arms around Chloe Marshall’s neck. "Mommy, if you did all the dirty work to raise me, does that mean I ate dirt to grow up?"
Chloe Marshall sighed. "Of course not, you silly goose."
Dorothy gave her a kiss. "MWAH! Mommy, I’ll always be your little sweetheart. I love you."
"Mommy loves you too. It’s getting late. Come on, we have to go to school now."
When Dorothy got to preschool, she immediately sat down next to Dylan and Elmer Grant and said with great solemnity, "Dylan, I can’t call you ’Big Brother’ anymore."
Dylan looked thoughtful. "Why not?"
"Because my mommy said I’m a few months older than you! You should call me ’Big Sister.’ It was wrong for me to call you ’Big Brother,’ and I’ve been doing it for so long... but forget it, I won’t make you make it up to me. So, are you going to call me ’Big Sister’?"
Dylan frowned. "’Big Sister?’ I’m not calling you that."
Dorothy felt like she was getting a raw deal. "Why not? I was willing to call you ’Big Brother,’ so why can’t you call me ’Big Sister’?"
"Because you’re going to be my bride when we grow up. It would be weird to call you ’Big Sister.’ My daddy sometimes calls my mommy ’Wifey.’ Since we’re still little, how about I call you ’Little Wifey’?"
Dorothy’s little face flushed red. "No way! Just call me by my name."
Elmer chuckled. "Then I’ll call you by your name too."
Dorothy’s eyebrows shot up. "No, you can’t! You have to call me ’Big Sister’!"
Elmer rolled his eyes. "I’m not calling you ’Big Sister.’ Dorothy, Dorothy, Dorothy..."
To defend her dignity as the big sister, Dorothy grabbed Elmer by the eyebrows. "Are you going to say it or not?"
Elmer, defiant to the end, yelled, "No!"
Dorothy let go. "Fine, don’t then. Hmph."
"Brother, I feel like you didn’t marry a wife, you brought home a living saint. She doesn’t do anything, she doesn’t know how to do anything. Did you just want her to carry on the Ainsworth family line?" Sharon Ainsworth complained wearily, sitting across from Nicholas Ainsworth.
Nicholas Ainsworth’s expression was indifferent. "What can you do? What have you ever done? Stop talking about other people. Just have the kitchen keep her breakfast warm."
"Anyway, it’s hopeless for me to get married in this lifetime. Can she even compare to me? She’s the matriarch of the Ainsworth family now. If she doesn’t even set an example, I really don’t know what the point of bringing her into the family was."
Nicholas Ainsworth stood up. "Alright, that’s enough of your complaining. Just worry about yourself. I’m going to the office."
Sharon Ainsworth watched him leave. ’Life is so unfair,’ she thought.
’Why is every other woman luckier than me?’
’Even used goods like Jean Grant are luckier than me. I don’t even have a single decent man in my life.’
Her breakfast was starting to taste like ash in her mouth.
Just then, Jean Grant came downstairs, still in her pajamas.
"Did your brother leave for work?"
"Uh-huh, he just left."
Jean Grant sat down next to her, and a maid brought over her breakfast.
She began to eat.
Just then, the phone in her pajama pocket rang. She casually took it out to answer, but when she saw it was an unknown number, she rejected the call and immediately turned her phone off.
"Why didn’t you answer?" Sharon Ainsworth asked, looking at her.
"Didn’t feel like it. Just some nuisance calls."
Sharon Ainsworth looked at her. "When are you and my brother planning to have a child?"
"We’ll let nature take its course," Jean Grant said.
"It’s better to have a child soon. My brother isn’t getting any younger, and he’s about the same age as your brother. Look, even your brother’s kids aren’t little anymore. To be honest, if it weren’t for Nora Ainsworth, I’d be your sister-in-law by now."
Jean Grant looked down. "There’s no such thing as ’if only’ in this world. What’s done is done."
Sharon Ainsworth’s expression grew awkward. "Do you like Nora Ainsworth?"
"How should I put it... As long as my brother is happy, I don’t really care. I don’t hate her, but I don’t particularly like her either. I’m indifferent."
Sharon Ainsworth scoffed. "Even though she used to be my sister, I can’t stand her. She’s always putting on an act. Deep down, she’s not kind at all—it’s all for show. She’s bad luck, too. Her mother was a total bitch, so what good can she be?"
Jean Grant spoke seriously. "I may not be particularly fond of her, but her children are my nephews. Could you please not slander my nephews’ mother like that? Besides, whatever she’s like, it has absolutely nothing to do with you, right? Are you just envious, jealous, and full of hate because she’s with my brother and you’re not?"
Her words reopened an old wound. Sharon Ainsworth shot to her feet. "Me? Envious, jealous, and full of hate for her? Is that even possible? Sister-in-law, could you maybe start waking up in the morning to make breakfast instead of always having the maids do it? You know my brother works hard all day. If you did that, it would make him really happy."
"We have maids, so why should I do it? Besides, it’s not that I’m unwilling. I’m just afraid that if I cooked, your brother wouldn’t eat it. I’m terrible at cooking."
"If you don’t know how, then learn! It’s not good to get so used to being lazy. Sister-in-law, no matter how rich your family is, that’s your family’s money, not yours. You won’t get any of their inheritance. You don’t even have a job, so what’s wrong with doing something useful around the house?"
Jean Grant wiped her mouth and stood up. "I don’t need you to tell me what to do. Mind your own business."
She turned and went upstairs.
Sharon Ainsworth watched her back, grinding her teeth. Then she turned and stomped out the door in her high heels.
Upstairs, Jean Grant turned her phone back on. Sure enough, a few minutes later, the same unknown number called again.
She answered.
"Hello."
"It’s me." It was Marlon Marshall’s voice, a sound to which she was always acutely sensitive.
"Are you completely psychotic, Marlon? I’m married now. Stop calling me, or I’ll tell my brother again, and you’ll be a dead man."
"My life’s already worthless, so I don’t care. But before I die, I’ll make sure you don’t get a moment of peace."
Jean Grant felt like she was going to lose her mind. Just thinking his name was enough to make her world turn bleak and gray.
She hung up, gripped the phone tightly, and then hurled it against the wall. It was a heavy impact.
She yanked open the curtains and leaned against the window. The sunlight was bright, but she couldn’t feel any of its warmth.
Marlon Marshall. The name was a curse.
’Sooner or later,’ Jean Grant thought, ’I’ll kill him with my own two hands!’
