The Housemaid Who Abused Me Wanted to Marry My Dad

Chapter 2

The next day, Robert bought new clothes for both me and Owen. My dress was outdated. He is stuck in his old-school tastes with no regard for current trends. Still, it was new, unlike my last dress that Mom had bought me years ago.

Robert hadn't skimped on sending Margaret money, but the extra always wound up in her pocket. She kept buying endless outfits for herself and Owen, while telling me "skirts get in the way when you're working", so I got stuck with cheap, stain-resistant sets instead.

"Get ready, we're leaving. Don't forget Aunt Margaret ."

"Be right there!"

Margaret swept in wearing a tight black dress, her usually tied-up hair freshly curled and draped over her shoulders, beaming like she was headed to a date. Robert and I stared, stunned. In all my memory, she'd been unkempt and greasy never like this.

She was around Robert's age, but this outfit? Not what you'd expect from a nanny.

"Margaret, isn't this a bit much? How are you going to watch the kids dressed like that?" Robert's voice was tight, his irritation barely contained.

"Oh, don't worry, Mr. Robert! I can handle Owen just fine~" Her voice oozed sweetness, the last syllable stretched thin.

"And Stella? You're not watching her?"

She'd clearly forgotten about me. Her smile faltered for a split second before snapping back. "Stella never wants to play with Owen anyway. I'll keep an eye on both of them, promise!"

At the park, Owen babbled excitedly at the array of rides. "I've been on that one! And that one! Oh, and that—"

Robert caught my quietness and drew me in. "Do you come here often with Owen, Stella?"

I shook my head. "This is my first time. Thanks for bringing me, Dad."

He hesitated. Before I could say more, Margaret jumped in. "Mr. Robert, I'm to blame. Stella's just... not good at sharing. Doesn't like playing with her brother. That's why I never brought her."

Robert crouched to meet my eyes. "But Aunt Margaret said yesterday you loved your brother?"

Another shake of my head. "I don't."

His face fell. He lifted Owen into his arms and turned to me with a warning tone.

"Were you just faking it when you washed your brother's clothes to make me think you cared?"

"You're flesh and blood siblings. You should look after him, understand?"

I kept my head down, swallowing my words. Only I knew how Margaret had poisoned little Owen's mind. Now even the five-year-old snapped orders at me like some tiny drill sergeant.

Mimicking her every move, the little tyrant treated me like his personal maid.

"Dad, I'm hungry," I whispered as my stomach growled loudly.

Robert ruffled my hair. "Kids will be kids—they just need the right direction," Margaret chimed in sweetly. "We all skipped breakfast before coming out!"

Her lie stung—I'd seen the leftover eggshells still on the table that morning, proof they'd eaten without me.

"Let's get you fed," Dad sighed.

At the restaurant, Margaret pounced on the menu, rattling off Owen's favorites without a glance our way. When Robert passed me the menu, I swallowed my hunger and forced a smile. "I'll eat anything. Just get what brother likes."

Clang! Clang! Owen banged his fork against the plate. "I want seafood! Sashimi now!"

Nearby diners glared, but Margaret gushed, "Listen to that rhythm! Our Owen could be a percussionist!"

When the food arrived, she shoveled sashimi into her mouth like a starved animal while hoarding all the good dishes near Owen. Robert and I got a pitiful pile of rabbit food masquerading as salad.

As Margaret gorged herself, Robert quietly picked at greens beside me. Only when stuffed did she finally toss us a plate of their half-eaten scraps like we were beggars.

Robert immediately dumped the leftovers onto my empty plate. "Margaret, I appreciate how well you've fed Owen. But if Stella shares meals with him, why does she look like she's wasting away?"

Flustered, Margaret waved her hands. "Oh, this one? She's on some silly diet—swears meat'll ruin her figure!"

The car ride home was a frozen silence. Then, as if fate had a sense of timing, we ran into Robert's old friend Daniel Ford at the gate.

"Robert! Heard you're back. Let's grab drinks soon!"

He turned to look at us behind Dad and grinned, "Is this your wife? And both kids are all grown up—you're a lucky man!"

Hearing this, Margaret didn't correct him. Instead, she looked away, barely hiding a smug grin. Robert's face darkened as he saw her smirk.