President Feng, We're Already Divorced

“Daddy, look!” The little girl's clear voice made the blood in Rong Ci's veins run cold. Feng Jingxin came running out of the dressing room clutching a pink teddy bear. Cream stains still marked her pink tutu. “Why hasn't Mommy come yet? I want to blow out the candles with her...”

“Be a good girl, okay?” Lin Wu bent down to wipe the little girl's cheek. Rong Ci saw her daughter take out an embroidered Suzhou handkerchief. It bore a pair of lotuses she had embroidered herself, the stitches as fine as stars. It should have been in her daughter's treasure box, but now it was in this woman's hands. Lin Wu gently brushed her fingertips over the embroidery, the faintest smile playing on her lips. “Xin is such a good girl. This handkerchief will go perfectly with my new dress.” Feng Ting-shen's gaze passed over the handkerchief. His Adam's apple bobbed, but he said nothing. Rong Ci felt an invisible hand squeezing her chest tight, her nails digging deep into her palms.