One accidental night three years ago, Vivian Blackwood became Marcus Blackwood’s wife.
She secretly rejoiced; he hated her to the bone.
She knew Marcus Blackwood didn’t love her—no matter, she didn’t care. Naively, she believed she could someday thaw his heart.
Then she got pregnant, and he personally escorted her onto the operating table.
At last, Vivian Blackwood gave up. She signed the divorce papers and walked away.
She thought they would drift apart forever—only for the man to turn the world upside-down searching for her.
When they met again, she was a world-class designer, smiling sweetly: “Ex-husband, we’re already divorced. Please behave.”
Eyes red, he pinned her against the wall: “Then let’s get married again!”
Behind her, a little bun grinned and produced a durian: “Uncle, if you want to chase Mommy, you have to kneel on this for three days first.”
Marcus Blackwood stared at the miniature version of himself, face icy: “What ‘uncle’? Call me Dad!”
