Chapter 807

Chloe immediately pointed at the television. "Daddy!"

Everyone looked at the screen.

The TV broadcast had already switched scenes. Alistair Montgomery's figure was nowhere to be seen.

Chloe blinked in confusion, searching the screen for a moment before sitting down dejectedly on the carpet.

Evelyn bent down and picked her up. "Missing Daddy?"

"Daddy!" Chloe nodded vigorously.

She had just turned three this year. Previously abused by Zack Davis and his mother, she had been timid and could barely speak clearly. Living with them these past days had gradually made her more cheerful.

But she was still too young to express what was truly on her mind.

She pointed at the TV, her little face flushed with urgency. "Daddy! Daddy!"

The news anchor on the screen sat with a serious demeanor.

Evelyn couldn't help but laugh. "You think this uncle is handsome, so he's your daddy?"

"No..." Chloe stomped her foot in frustration. "Chloe's daddy was on TV!"

Evelyn gently stroked her soft hair. "Okay, next time Chloe sees him, be sure to point him out for Mommy, alright?"

Chloe pouted, nodding with a pitiful expression.

She suddenly looked up. "Mommy, you told me Daddy was on TV."

Evelyn was taken aback.

Natalie Castillo leaned in. "Could it be that your sister was a fan? So many fans call their idols 'husband' these days, even having their kids call them 'daddy'!"

Joanna Sterling rolled her eyes. "Grace wasn't that shallow."

"Then why else?" Natalie raised an eyebrow.

Joanna was silent for a moment before speaking slowly. "Perhaps your sister's husband treated Chloe so poorly that she just pointed to someone on TV and said he was the child's father."

Evelyn pondered this. "That's possible."

The three of them were talking around Chloe when the little girl yawned.

Evelyn picked her up. "I'll take her to bed first."

"Alright."

In the bedroom, Evelyn gently placed Chloe on the bed and lay down beside her, humming a soft lullaby.

Looking at the child's sleeping face, a pang of sorrow washed over her.

Chloe reminded her so much of herself as a child.

At three years old, she had been even more pitiful than Chloe.

Her father despised her. Linda Lowell hated her. She was locked in the basement, only able to glimpse the outside light through half a window.

At night, when the hunger became unbearable, she would sneak out to rummage through the trash. Finding a half-moldy piece of bread felt like discovering a treasure, which she would hide in her clothes.

Her greatest wish back then was to buy lots and lots of food when she grew up.

So, after earning her first money, she frantically hoarded rice, flour, oil, and grains—an insecurity carved into her bones.

And the most luxurious joy back then was hiding in the grass, secretly watching Sophia Ashcroft holding Isabella Ashcroft, playing.

Sophia Ashcroft was gentle and knowledgeable.

She would paint, write, take classes, even get a pilot's license. Isabella asked her why she learned all these things.

She said, because she was interested.

Isabella asked, wasn't she disappointed in her own grades?

She answered, no, because she wasn't perfect either.

Evelyn, like a peeping tom, frantically imitated Sophia Ashcroft's every move. When Linda Lowell beat her, she would think of Sophia's calm composure.

Gradually, she stopped crying.

Because Sophia Ashcroft had said tears solved nothing.

Three-year-old Evelyn saw Sophia Ashcroft as the only light in her life. The only person who would give her candy and smile at her.

She also learned to smile at Linda Lowell—Sophia said she looked pretty when she smiled.

So, every time she was beaten, she would force a smile.

That smile terrified Linda Lowell.

When did the beatings stop?

It seemed to be on her seventh birthday, when Sophia Ashcroft sent a gift and warned Linda Lowell: if she abused the child again, she would call the police immediately.

Evelyn looked down at Chloe.

Now that her sister was gone, she was determined not to let Chloe repeat her own past.

She would give this child double the love.

Gently kissing the child's forehead, Evelyn quietly got up and left the bedroom.

Outside the door, Alexander Vance stood waiting.

"Waiting for you," he said in a low voice. "Asleep?"

"Yes." Evelyn frowned. "She was still calling for Daddy in her dream... I think we should try to find her biological father."

No amount of love could replace a child's longing for a father's love.