My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 01

My Husband Stayed With His Childhood Love—Our Daughter Called Him Stranger Chapter 01

During our five years of marriage, Nathaniel Beckett spent more time with Claire Reed and her son than he did with his own daughter.

I had stopped caring a long time ago.

I no longer argued, no longer fought with him over it. There was no point.

One weekend, I took my daughter Grace to the mall.

There was packed with shoppers, and every corner seemed busy.

In the chaos, I accidentally got separated from Grace.

I was frantic, searching everywhere for her.

Then I saw Nathaniel.

He was standing in line at Moonbeam Creamery with Claire and Mason, waiting to buy a soft-serve vanilla cone.

He spotted Grace standing alone a few feet away. A flash of shock crossed his eyes.

Without hesitation, he strode toward her, reaching out as if to pull her into his arms.

He probably thought she’d react the way she used to—burst into tears, throw herself at him, and beg to be held.

Instead, Grace stumbled backward in terror.

Then she spun around and wrapped both arms around a patrolling security guard’s leg.

Pointing at her own father, she screamed at the top of her lungs.

“Help! Help! Mommy said I’m not allowed to go with strangers!”

Her voice echoed across the entire floor.

People surrounded Nathaniel right away, their faces full of suspicion and concern.

His face turned bright red.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” he hurriedly explained. “I’m her father!”

But Grace only hid farther behind the guard.

She looked at him with unfamiliar, wary eyes.

“That’s not true. I don’t have a dad. You’re just someone who comes by once in a while.”

***

Less than half an hour after I got Grace home, Nathaniel burst through the front door.

He didn’t even bother taking off his shoes.

“Sylvie!” His roar hit the room before he was fully inside.

“Is this how you’ve been raising her?”

“You taught her to call me an uncle in front of hundreds of people? To treat me like some child kidnapper?”

I was kneeling on the living room floor and didn’t look up.

Grace had scraped her knee in the chaos at the mall. Blood was trickling down her leg, but she hadn’t made a sound.

I soaked a cotton ball with antiseptic and gently dabbed it on the scrape.

“Sylvie, answer me!” Nathaniel’s voice rose even louder.

“You’ve got some nerve. Did you teach her to act like she doesn’t know me in public?”

Out of nowhere, he went still.

His eyes had fallen on Grace’s knee, stained brown with antiseptic.

On instinct, he took a step forward and bent down.

His hand reached halfway toward the drawer where we usually kept the first-aid kit.

Then his phone rang. A special ringtone.

The second he answered, his expression changed.

“Nathaniel…” Claire’s voice came through, shaky and dripping with that sugary, helpless act.

“Mason’s been crying because he couldn’t get that ice cream…”

“And when all those people surrounded you at the mall, I got so scared. Could you come check on us?”

“Okay. Don’t worry. I’ll be right there.”

He hung up. Then he picked up a paper bag he had brought with him.

From inside, he pulled out an expensive Barbie doll and stuffed it into Grace’s arms.

“Here. I bought this for you.”

Grace stared at the doll. Then she shoved it away. The doll hit the floor.

She wrapped her arms tightly around my neck, burying her face in my shoulder as her small body trembled nonstop.

Nathaniel’s face darkened. “Sylvie. So this is how you’ve raised our daughter.”

He drew himself up to his full height and stared down at me.

“Claire and Mason were upset. I need to go check on them.”

“And you—you need to take a long, hard look at how you’re raising this child.”

Without another word, he turned and headed for the door.

The second the front door closed behind him, Grace finally broke down. Her quiet sobs filled the room.

“Mommy… did I do something wrong?”

“No, sweetheart.” I pulled her into my arms.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. You did exactly what you were supposed to do.”

“I taught you never to go anywhere with people you don’t know.”

“But my teacher said dads aren’t strangers.”

“Your teacher’s right.” I kissed her forehead gently. “But anyone you don’t know’s a stranger, Grace.”

She nodded, though she didn’t seem to fully understand.

Then she buried her face even deeper against me.

Once she was finally asleep, I went to the front hallway.

The Barbie doll was still lying in the corner. Its pink dress was already coated in dust.

I bent down, picked it up, opened the front door, and tossed it into the trash can outside.

When I came back in, I sat down on the couch and dialed the attorney David Whitmore’s number.

“Mr. Whitmore, I need you to prepare divorce papers for me.”

“I want full custody of my daughter.”

When I hung up, I looked around the house.

And I started doing the math in my head—how much could we get for this place? The house that held every single memory of our marriage.