After I Finally Became His Perfect Donna Chapter 07

After I Finally Became His Perfect Donna Chapter 07

Mireille was discharged quickly. To make up for the guilt of rejecting her at the hospital, Dorian brought her

to the old Don’s compound for the first time.

Before, he’d only ever brought Mike.

At the dinner table, the old Donna, Olivia, ladled a bowl of soup with her own hands and pushed it toward

Mireille, her expression warm and maternal.

“Mireille, your health has always been delicate, and now with this injury on top of it, you really need to take

care of yourself.”

Mireille looked flustered by the attention, quickly accepting the bowl with both hands. “Thank you, ma’am.

You’re too kind.”

“Honestly, my injury is nothing. As long as Mike wasn’t too frightened, everything I went through was worth

it.”

“You sweet girl, always thinking of everyone else before yourself.”

Olivia sighed and cast a seemingly casual glance at Dorian.

“Now this is the kind of temperament a woman of the house should have. All these years, raising Mike

without a single complaint.”

Dorian sat across the table watching this warm little scene, but something heavy sat in his chest.

Years ago, when he’d insisted on marrying Lyra, he’d brought her here for dinner too. Back then, Lyra had still

been that bright, vivid girl, full of life.

But by the end of that meal

Olivia, under the pretense of teaching her manners, made Lyra stand the entire time and serve the dishes.

She never let her sit at the table.

It had gutted him. He’d slammed down his silverware on the spot, grabbed Lyra’s hand, and walked out

“We’re never coming back.”

In the car, he’d held her while her eyes were still red, and made a promise. “I’ll protect you. No one gets to

make you feel small.”

After that, he moved out of the family compound and severed most of his ties with the household.

“Dorian, what are you daydreaming about?” Olivia’s voice cut through, pointed but measured, pulling him

back. “Mireille has been by your side all these years and gave our family Mike. Don’t you dare mistreat her.”

“If you ask me, what matters most in a person is temperament. Gentle and obedient beats everything else.”

Dorian understood the subtext perfectly. He said nothing.

But Mireille’s eyes lit up like someone had flipped a switch, the barely contained joy almost spilling over.

After dinner, the old Don, Victor, called Dorian into the study.

He didn’t waste time. His voice was stern. “I hear you brought that lunatic back? And she nearly hurt Mike

again?”

Dorian answered quietly. “It was my oversight. I should have been watching her.”

“You never should have let her anywhere near Mike. You need to know where the line is.”

Victor’s face was dark with anger. “A woman versus your own flesh and blood. Which one matters more? Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“I’ll set her straight.” Dorian’s voice was hoarse. “She’s back at the Academy. Once she truly understands the

rules, I’ll…”

“Rules? What kind of family matriarch can’t even tolerate her husband’s child?”

Victor let out a cold snort. “I was against this marriage from the start. Look at the mess it’s become.”

The study fell silent.

The private hospital where the premarital medical exams had been done was a Vane family property.

The moment Lyra’s results came back, they’d been placed on Victor’s desk. Years of hard labor had wrecked her body. Conceiving would be nearly impossible.

Victor forbade the marriage. He even resorted to family discipline over it.

Dorian took the beating without a sound, his back a mess of welts, and kept it all from Lyra. He was afraid she’d feel guilty, afraid she’d refuse to marry him.

He made Victor a promise: no matter who carried the child, there would be an heir.

Victor gave him three years. If no child was born, the marriage was over.

Mike’s birth was the compromise Dorian made to keep his marriage to Lyra alive.

“I’ll make sure she learns this time. You have my word.” Dorian left those words behind and walked out of the

study.

Back in his room, he let out a bitter, self-mocking sigh, pulled out his phone, and called the Academy.

“This is Dorian.” His tone was measured, routine. “How is Lyra doing at the Academy? Has she

acknowledged her mistakes?”

A few seconds of silence on the other end.

Then the instructor’s voice came through, unmistakably shocked. “Don, are you joking?”

“Mrs. Voss never came back after you picked her up last time.”