My mom, Joanna, is the sole heiress of one of London's elite families and has recently been involved with a rising star from the entertainment industry. Videos of their encounters at luxury hotels have dominated the headlines, trending repeatedly on Twitter, while my dad could only sulk at home, scowling as he did the laundry.

When Joanna finally returned home, she tossed a divorce agreement onto the table. "The five-year arrangement is up. You're free to leave now."

"Really?" Tears of relief filled Yusuf's eyes. Overjoyed, he still made sure to pass on his household duties. He instructed the young actor, "Her clothes need this special detergent. It's all yours from now on."

So, off Yusuf went, leaving with a gleeful bounce in his step. It wasn't until the next afternoon, as school let out, that I spotted him at the daycare entrance, wearing sunglasses and a mask. He greeted me with two big kisses and apologized repeatedly.

"Sweetheart, I'm so sorry. I was just so thrilled to be free yesterday that I accidentally forgot to pick you up."

Forgot? His own daughter? I crossed my arms, turned away, and pouted, refusing to acknowledge him.

"There was something I was wondering," Yusuf hesitated before finally asking, "After I left, did that guy stay over at our house?"

I nodded, correcting him earnestly: "Not 'guy,' it's the handsome brother. He even made spiced honey cake for me this morning, and it was better than yours!"

His gaze dimmed, and his long lashes drooped like little fans. With a hint of sadness in his voice, he said, "I know you said that just to tease me, but it still makes me sad."

No wonder Joanna claims he's the master of playing the victim—anyone would feel sympathy. I was about to pat his head in comfort when he shifted gears and asked, "And... did that brother share a room with Mom?"

"Yusuf, don't forget that the agreement clearly states: after the divorce, you can't visit your daughter without my permission."

A cold, authoritative voice cut through the air from a short distance away, causing Yusuf to tense up. Gathering himself, he finally turned around.

In the gentle breeze, Joanna stood there in four-inch heels, her tailored pencil skirt perfectly accentuating her shapely figure, her makeup exquisitely cold and authoritative without a hint of anger.

Yusuf bravely attempted to resist, "But we're not divorced yet. Even if we were, why can't I see my own daughter whenever I want? This is an outrageous clause..."

"Enough."

Resistance was futile, and Yusuf wisely chose to remain silent.

Joanna bent down to pick me up, her previously sharp gaze softening instantly, full of affection and care.

"Sweetheart, did you have fun with your friends at daycare today? Are you hungry now? How about I take you out for a nice meal?" she cooed.

Then, shifting back to the commanding businesswoman, she faced Yusuf: "If the divorce agreement looks fine, let's finalize it at the city hall this weekend."

"...Okay."

As Mom and I settled into the luxurious car, I glanced out the window at Dad, who stood there helplessly, still in place. My heart ached a little. "Mommy, are you really letting Dad go? He seems a bit pitiful."

Joanna turned to look out the opposite window without replying. It wasn't until I was nearly asleep that I heard a faint, almost imperceptible sigh.

"He was the one who abandoned Mommy all along."

I don't quite understand what divorce means, but ever since Dad left, and with Mom always busy with work, there's been no one to build Legos with me, read me stories, or lift me up high into the air. Even the delicious desserts Faye makes can't make me happy anymore. I miss Dad's trifle.

Tonight, Mom had another engagement to attend, and I desperately clung to her, not wanting her to leave, my face streaked with tears and snot. Even Faye couldn't bear it anymore: "Ma'am, why not take Miss Carolina with you? Without her dad around and you often being away, it's tough for her at such a young age."

"But it's not an appropriate place for her..." Mom hesitated, looking at my pitiful face, and finally she gave in.

...

At the Majestic Entertainment Club.

The dance floor was dimly lit, the music was deafening, and the crowd moved their bodies with abandon. Drinks swirled in glasses, looking as tempting as ever. In the private suite on the top floor, the city's elite were gathered, all eyes glued to the TV screen as I held the microphone and sang a popular children's song.

"Happy Lamb, Beautiful Lamb, Lazy Lamb, Lovable Lamb, Silly Lamb, Fluffy Wool, Red Wolf, Grey Wolf, don't look at me as just a sheep, the grass is greener because of me, the sky is bluer because of me, the clouds are fluffier because of me..."

When the song ended, thunderous applause erupted.

"Amazing! What a wonderful voice!"

"Indeed, she's Joanna's daughter; like mother, like daughter!"

"Yes, yes, Joanna has raised her daughter well. The child is destined for great things!"

...

The kids in Sunflower Class always say I can't carry a tune and that I sing off-key. This was the first time so many people praised my singing, and I was so excited that I wanted to sing another song.

But then my mom intervened, "Sweetie, let Sylas take you outside to play. Mom will finish her business here soon, okay?"

Alright.

I pouted, reluctantly putting down the microphone, and took Sylas's hand, walking out of the suite. Oh right, Sylas is the young star who, as Faye whispered, was my mom's "friend." He's only ten years older than me, which Faye finds quite surprising!

Sylas took me to the neighboring suite. He was very skilled and even made me two pretty braids. I looked up at him, blinking my eyes, and asked, "Handsome brother, what's your relationship with my mom?"

He pinched my cheek and smiled gently, "Joanna is my boss and also my patron."

Patron? I don't quite understand what that means.

"So if my mom and dad get divorced, will you marry my mom?"

Sylas paused for a moment and then said softly, "If she's willing."

Uh-oh, suddenly he looked a bit like my dad to me, especially when he smiled, with those arched eyebrows and sparkling eyes.

The door to the private suite wasn’t fully closed, and as a group of people passed by, I thought I caught a glimpse of my dad. Pretending I wanted to play hide and seek with Sylas, I waited for him to close his eyes, then quietly slipped away.

Trailing the group, I found my way back to the suite where Mom and the others were. I hid in a corner, watching my dad and a few young men line up in the center of the room. The agent, with a face full of fawning smiles, was addressing the people seated on the sofas, "Joanna, Mr. Duncan, all of you esteemed executives, I heard you’re launching a major new production. These are my newly signed artists—they’ve got the looks and the physique. If they get a role, they’re bound to become stars."

He especially highlighted my dad: "Especially this one—does he look familiar? Yusuf Ross, who shot to fame five years ago with his debut film 'The Alps.' Unfortunately, he stepped away for a few years, but now he's making a comeback. The talent is still there, execs, give him a chance!"

"Yusuf Ross?" Mr. Duncan pondered for a moment, then slapped his thigh in realization. "Ah, I remember. Back then, he was quite the sensation, trending everywhere on social media, called 'the eternal heartthrob' and 'boy wonder.' But time waits for no one, and now the boy’s turned middle-aged."

The men burst into laughter.

"Come on, that’s not fair," the agent responded awkwardly but still smiled ingratiatingly. "He was just 20 then, and now he’s only 25, the perfect age for an actor."

"The perfect age? With 18- and 19-year-olds popping up all the time, who cares about those past their prime?" Mr. Duncan turned to my mom with a flattering smile, "I think Sylas from Joanna's agency would be great for the second male lead. What do you think?"

My mom didn’t answer. She just lifted her head and stared coolly at my dad. Under such an intense gaze, my dad’s face turned beet red, unsure of where to put his hands and feet.

The agent, sensing an opportunity, doubled down on his sales pitch: "Joanna, why not have him stick around tonight, keep you company? Yusuf here is nothing if not obedient and reliable…"

"Enough."

I couldn’t hold back any longer. Jumping out from my hiding spot, I pointed a finger at the agent, "You’re a jerk!" I then pointed to Mr. Duncan and the rest of the men on the sofa, "Jerks! You’re all jerks! You can’t push my dad around!"

My outburst stunned the room, and everyone looked as if their eyes might pop out. They glanced back and forth between me, my dad, and my mom, taking a while to piece together the connection.

Seeing me, my dad’s eyes widened, fury overcoming his fear of my mom, as he shouted, "Carolina, did you seriously bring our daughter to a club?!"