CHAPTER 7: CHAPTER 7: HER HUSBAND ISN’T MUCH

Iris Quill teased Florence Lynch, all because she was pretty.

Iris said, "As long as you forgive me, I’ll protect you in kindergarten, and I promise no one will bully you."

He was scared because of this incident, Florence’s mom might make her transfer schools.

Poppy Hale indeed thought so, but transferring to another kindergarten might still lead to the same issues.

She gently asked her daughter for her opinion, "Florence, do you want to transfer schools, or stay here?"

Florence thought for a moment and nodded, "The teachers and other classmates are all nice."

Poppy also had her own selfish motives.

After this incident, Declan Hawthorne, out of guilt, would both openly and secretly put pressure to restrain, ensuring her daughter wouldn’t worry about encountering little bullies like Iris Quill again at kindergarten.

Since he can apologize, Iris isn’t beyond redemption.

At the street corner near her home, Poppy had Declan stop the car.

She left with Florence without saying much to Declan.

She wasn’t in the mood.

From just her back view, Declan could tell Poppy was angry now.

Even though she was a bit different from a few years ago, it’s as if Poppy had armor now, enclosing herself in it, though her temper and little quirks remained the same.

When angry, she wouldn’t speak to people.

In the past, she didn’t have the heart to get mad at him, always suppressing her temper and seeking him out after processing it herself.

He glanced at the location nearby.

The old, cramped, and shabby, houses with low rent, at least an hour commute to the company.

Poppy lives here now?

Seems her husband isn’t very capable.

Declan suppressed an unusual feeling, turned the steering wheel, and spoke, "Do you often bully Florence?"

Iris pouted.

After asking several times, Iris finally spoke.

"I said she doesn’t have a dad, she’s a fatherless wild child, her dad doesn’t want her. Really, Uncle, I’ve never seen Florence’s dad."

"She doesn’t play with me usually, so I snatched her snacks and fruit a few times."

"I also pushed her a few times; she has a skirt that was only fifty dollars. Uncle, have you ever seen fifty-dollar clothes? Super cheap, they tear easily."

"Once, I saw her drinking Chinese medicine, and I poured it out for her."

...

Declan pressed his forehead.

He was actually grateful that these words weren’t said in front of Poppy; otherwise, seeing her protective nature, she’d probably be even angrier.

Declan sent Iris back to his cousin’s house, explained the situation, and before the car even drove away, Iris’s crying wails came from inside.

Sitting in the car, listening to Iris’s cries, Declan wasn’t in a hurry to leave.

He took out his phone, found Poppy’s account in the company’s internal group from the real-name system.

The profile picture was a simple line drawing of a small dog, smiling foolishly with a big grin, holding a flower in its hand.

Just like she used to be.

When Declan sent a message, a red exclamation mark appeared.

Beneath that, in small text, it said, crossing departments and bypassed communication were not allowed internally.

Declan: ...

As the company boss, to contact an employee he’d have to go through his team of secretaries.

Declan opened Morgan Sloan’s WeChat, "Recommend my account to Poppy Hale."

Morgan was nervous, thinking there was an issue with Poppy’s project proposal; he nearly knelt as he held his phone, only to get a question mark from Poppy after recommending the account.

"?"

"Ask him what he wants."

The following sentence was retracted by Poppy, only to be replaced with: "ok."

Poppy noticed the friend recommendation from Morgan.

Declan’s WeChat, like him, was inscrutable. The pitch-black profile picture had the name H, and the WeChat ID was a combination of his English name and birthday.

She quickly accepted the friend request.

Declan: "I’ll take responsibility if your daughter has any issues in the future."

Poppy: "Alright."

Declan sent a video.

The chubby Iris Quill was crawling on the ground after a beating, crying like he was about to be sent to a slaughterhouse.

Poppy watched it once, understanding Declan’s intention was likely that it was enough and not to keep holding on.

It was clear that Declan cared about his child, probably because the child was born of a woman he liked very much.

Poppy felt a sour pang in her heart, having seen Declan’s protection of the little chubby kid earlier that afternoon.

Even when hitting the child, he couldn’t really bring himself to do it, it was just for show.

Indeed.

Knowing what type of person Declan is, there are plenty of women willing to give birth for him.

Poppy let out a bitter smile, quoted the video message, and replied: "Received."

Gathering all her emotions.

-

That night, Florence developed a fever.

To prevent infection, Poppy put masks on both herself and Florence and rushed to the hospital’s emergency department.

At the emergency department, an examination showed it was an old issue.

The doctor pointed to the curtains in the back, "Hold your child and wait there for a moment, there’s a medication to mix."

"Alright, thank you, doctor."

Holding her daughter’s small body, sitting in a cubicle, Poppy checked her phone messages with her other hand.

She studied art and started illustrating from university.

Back then, she didn’t lack money, creating art out of passion, painting fan art for games or movies, and inadvertently gaining popularity.

Now, Poppy is a well-known illustrator with three million followers.

People often ask if she takes commissions, and if she has the time, Poppy does take them.

But creating art is time-consuming and laborious, and each of her illustrations takes a week to complete.

With Florence getting sick, her efficiency wasn’t as high.

Opening a few commissioning inquiries, Poppy sent her price list and went offline.

Declan’s call came through on WeChat.

"Your daughter’s jacket is in my car."

"I’ll go to your car tomorrow at work to get it."

Noticing Poppy’s suppressed voice, guessing she was inconvenienced, Declan was about to hang up when noises and chatter erupted outside the cubicle.

An older person’s voice, dissatisfied, "Declan’s being absurd, our Iris was just making friends in kindergarten, how can he say Iris was bullying classmates?"

"Look how scared our Iris is, even got a fever!"

Declan’s cousin, Heather Underwood, sighed, "Mom, Declan wants to discipline Iris for his own good. Moreover, ask Iris what he did at school, was that making friends? No, that was bullying!"

The elder stubbornly continued, "But he shouldn’t have hit him, Iris has never been hit growing up!"

"I heard from Iris, that girl’s clothes were just a few dozen bucks, and she’s never seen her dad. That mother and daughter probably deliberately attend the elite school to ensnare a rich man."

"That’s definitely it, or why would Declan drive them home? Iris said that little girl’s mom is pretty, probably a slut! No, tomorrow I’ll go to the school and get that shameless little girl expelled!"

Heather couldn’t bear it anymore.

"If you have the guts, say that in front of Declan."

The old lady dared not flaunt in front of Declan.

Inside the cubicle, Poppy’s hands and feet grew cold, the piercing words stabbing her ears, the whirlpool of tinnitus expanding outward in circles.

She didn’t notice the call hadn’t ended.