I Had His Daughter: She Had His Name Chapter 03

I Had His Daughter: She Had His Name Chapter 03

On the third day, the Calloway relatives came to visit Vivian at the hospital.

Mrs. Calloway, afraid I’d cause a scene, had me and my daughter moved to the outer room of the upstairs VIP suite. The outer room was meant for overnight companions, separated from the main room by nothing but a curtain.

Along with us came a uniform.

The name tag on the collar read: [Temporary Aide]

Grant stood beside the bed, avoiding my eyes.

“There are a lot of family elders here today. Just put it on for now.”

I looked at the uniform. My fingers slowly curled into fists.

He lowered his voice.

“Everyone in the Calloway circle already thinks Vivian is Mrs. Calloway. They’re also filming Colton’s birth documentary today. If this comes out now, it’s bad for everyone.”

I thought about six years ago, when Grant’s company went under and he held me and said, “Stella, just hang on a little longer. Once I get through this, I’ll never let you suffer again.”

But now he could afford to give someone else flowers and a luxury suite. All he had for me was an aide’s uniform.

My throat tightened.

“Just half a day?”

Grant exhaled with relief.

“Just half a day.”

He reached over and set the uniform on the edge of my bed.

“Stella, I know this isn’t fair to you.”

Just then, laughter drifted in from the main room.

Vivian came out, supported by the night nurse.

She saw the uniform next to my hand, and a flash of triumph crossed her eyes.

“Ms. Whitfield, don’t blame Grant. He really doesn’t have a choice.”

She walked closer, bent down to tuck in my blanket, and spoke so softly only I could hear.

“Stella, you didn’t actually think a marriage certificate would make him claim you in front of everyone, did you?”

My fingertips trembled.

But she had already straightened up, turning to Grant with reddened eyes.

“Grant, is Ms. Whitfield upset?”

Grant looked at me.

I wanted to explain, but his eyes were exhausted. Impatient.

I swallowed the words. I looked down and tucked the swaddling blanket around my daughter.

“No.”

Vivian sighed softly.

“Well, let me see the baby. She is Grant’s daughter, after all.”

She reached toward Luna.

My daughter was already sleeping fitfully. The moment Vivian touched her, she burst into tears.

My heart clenched. I blocked Vivian’s hand on instinct.

But the next second, Vivian stumbled backward two steps and crashed into the low cabinet.

She clutched her abdomen, and tears spilled instantly.

“Ms. Whitfield, I just wanted to see the baby. Why did you push me?”

Grant rushed to catch her.

“Stella.”

I held my crying daughter and said quietly, “I didn’t push her.”

Vivian leaned into his arms, shaking with sobs.

“It’s fine. She just had a baby. Her emotions are all over the place. I don’t blame her.”

Mrs. Calloway’s face was thunderous.

“Vivian just gave birth too, and she has the nerve to lay hands on her.”

Behind the curtain, the relatives whispered.

“Is that the woman from the hospital?”

“Looks harmless enough, but she’s vicious.”

Grant was too busy checking Vivian for injuries to hear any of it.

After a long moment, he looked up.

“Apologize to Vivian.”

I looked at him, my eyes burning.

If I argued now, would he resent me even more? Would he really abandon me and our daughter for good?

So I closed my eyes and swallowed every last shred of dignity.

“I’m sorry.”

The room went quiet for a beat.

Vivian nestled in Grant’s arms, a flicker of satisfaction in her eyes.

Mrs. Calloway scoffed.

“Should have done that from the start.”

She had someone draw the curtain.

Grant didn’t stop them.

The curtain fell, and the room split into two worlds.

On that side: flowers, congratulations, the firstborn grandson.

On this side: me, my daughter, half a glass of cold water, and the aide’s uniform crumpled in my fist.

The videographer whispered, “Mr. Calloway, should we keep filming the documentary?”

Grant was silent for a few seconds.

“Keep going.”

Soon the main room was lively again.

“Colton looks just like Grant.”

“Should we start calling her Mrs. Calloway now?”

Vivian smiled weakly. “Oh, stop.”

Grant didn’t correct them.

I sat behind the curtain, listening to every blessing land like a stone.

My phone lit up.

The Calloway Group press release had just gone out.

[Calloway Group heir Grant Calloway welcomes firstborn son. Langford heiress and baby doing well.]

The comments were flooded with congratulations for Mrs. Calloway and the Calloway heir.

After the documentary wrapped, Grant pushed through the curtain. He was holding a gift envelope.

“This is from my mother. For the baby.”

He set it on the nightstand and softened his voice.

“Stella, I know today was hard on you. But Vivian’s health is fragile, and Colton is so small. Please don’t provoke them.”

I opened the envelope.

It wasn’t money.

It was a bank card and a handwritten note.

[Take the money and leave. Don’t let your child grow up learning to be trash like you.]

Grant saw the words and his expression shifted.

“That’s not from me.”

I looked up at him. My voice was barely a whisper.

“Then how long, exactly, do you expect me to keep enduring this?”

He froze.

From the main room, Vivian started crying again.

Grant glanced back, his brow furrowing.

“I’ll explain everything later.”

He left anyway.

The curtain fell back into place.

I sat there holding my daughter, tears streaming down my face.