At her daughter’s question, Sophia felt a wave of indignation. “It was your father and Wendy.”
“What?” Joanna was furious, glaring at her sleeping father.
Sophia saw Nathan on the sofa and pulled her daughter into a bedroom, seating her before whispering urgently, “Joanna, Wendy somehow got evidence of me and Mr. Wilson together. Your father saw it and hit me. Then I tried to taunt Wendy, but she recognized me as your father’s mistress. She followed us here, found out we’ve been together all along, and realized your father cheated during their marriage. She hit me again.”
“My whole body aches now.”
Joanna was speechless.
What a mess.
“Mom, what is really going on between you and that Mr. Wilson?” Joanna asked, exasperated. She knew the affair was real, but she hadn’t cared about it before.
Sophia began to sob quietly. Wiping her tears, she said, “Joanna, I can’t rely solely on your father. He’s a spineless coward. Without Wendy, he’s nothing. Mr. Wilson and I were classmates. He loved me, but he couldn’t marry me. My family background was poor; your grandparents were farmers. Marrying me wouldn’t help him at all.”
“Later, he got married and had children, but we stayed in touch. Do you think I could have given your brother such a good life with just the money your father gave me?”
“Your father is so stingy. Every time I asked for money, he was so tight-fisted. Most of the money came from Mr. Wilson.”
Joanna stared at her mother in shock. She hadn't cared before, but now it felt different. She had been in a room with Mr. Wilson. Although she hadn't let that old man touch her, in his mind, their relationship had become twisted.
Joanna felt a wave of nausea, clutching her chest.
She asked in a low voice, “Whose son is Wayne?”
Sophia tensed at the question, her eyes darting away. She patted Joanna’s hand. “What are you thinking? Of course Wayne is your father’s son.”


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