Chapter 7

Her brain really didn't work too well.

But a daughter like this was practically a gift from heaven.

Vivienne carefully carried Ivy upstairs. One hand cradled the back of her head, the other steady beneath her tiny bottom.

Ivy curled into her arms, her little face buried in the hollow of her neck.

"Mommy, it doesn't hurt."

Ivy's voice muffled against Vivienne's throat.

Vivienne's steps faltered. She pressed that fluffy little head tighter against her chest.

Beaten like that, and she still said it didn't hurt.

Her little Ivy was truly a silly girl with a broken brain.

But that was fine. Silly girls were the cutest.

Smart children ran away. They got scared. They looked at her like she was a monster.

Vivienne licked her lips, swallowing the frantic heat rising in her gaze, her voice dripping with sweetness. "Be good, Ivy. Mommy will make you porridge tonight."

She laid Ivy gently on the bed.

Ivy leaned against the headboard, her emerald eyes brimming with attachment.

How wonderful.

In her last life, when she got hurt, she could only curl up alone in a corner and lick her wounds. The Shaws couldn't even be bothered to look at her, let alone make her porridge.

Dinner was porridge cooked by Vivienne herself.

Calling it porridge was generous. It was more like a pot of gray sludge, bubbling with suspicious foam on the surface.

Vincent's hand trembled slightly. He held the bowl.

He stared down at the writhing gray mass and whispered to Silas, "Are you sure this wasn't dredged up from the basement?"

Silas scooped a spoonful without expression, his throat working with obvious effort. "Dad. Don't ask questions Mommy can hear."

Vincent fell silent. He too scooped a spoonful and shoved it into his mouth.

Father and son sat at the dining table in perfect unison, eyes closed, faces settling into an expression of grim resignation.

Vivienne carried the porridge upstairs. She didn't see this.

Even if she had, she wouldn't have cared.

What did those two stinking men know?

Their suffering was their problem, not hers.

Vivienne sat on the edge of the bed, lifting a spoonful and blowing on it again and again. She touched her lips to the edge to test the temperature. Only when she was certain it wasn't hot did she bring it to Ivy's mouth.

"Come on, open up."

Ivy obediently opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around the spoon.

"Mommy, today's porridge tastes even better than yesterday's eggs!"

"Really?" Vivienne's eyes grew hot, the spoon nearly slipping from her fingers.

"Really, really! Mommy, did you add some secret ingredient? I taste a little... um... a little toasty fragrance."

Mommy's porridge was definitely cooked with overflowing love. Even if there were strange things in it, that was just proof of love.

Vivienne's fingers shook with excitement.

It was actually the bottom of the pot burning.

But Ivy could actually taste it and call it fragrant.

Her daughter was truly the only person in the world who understood her cooking.

After dinner, Vivienne called both father and son into Ivy's room.

Ivy was tucked under a pink blanket, the bruises on her face treated with ointment and much reduced. She blinked her large eyes at her parents, head tilting curiously.

"Mommy?"

Vivienne spoke first, her tone as serious as if announcing a major decision. "Something very serious happened in our family today."

"Ivy was bullied by bad people at preschool. This matter must be taken with the utmost seriousness by the entire family."

Vincent yawned.

Vivienne punched him in the kidney. He gasped and straightened immediately.

His wife was perfect in every way except for being too violent.

But that was one of the reasons he loved her.

Back when he proposed, Vivienne had thrown him to the ground with exactly this force, stepping on his chest. In that moment, Vincent knew he would marry no one else in this life.

"Ivy, Mommy thought about it all afternoon. Your preschool is simply too dangerous."

She spent her days weaving through gunfire. Her precious daughter had gotten hurt on her very first day of school. The danger level at preschool was far higher than anything she faced.

"So the theme of tonight's family meeting is..."

Vivienne raised one finger. "If someone causes trouble for you at school in the future, how should you handle it?"

Ivy obediently raised her small hand. "Mommy!"

"Yes, Ivy?"

"If someone bullies me and my brother, should I hit them back?"

"Of course you hit them back!" Vivienne blurted without thinking.

But the words had barely left her mouth when she remembered her persona was a gentle, virtuous housewife. She scrambled to cover. "Uh... what Mommy means is, children should be friendly to each other, but if someone bullies you, you can't just stand there and take it. Do you understand?"

Ivy nodded with a look of partial comprehension. "Then what's the best way to handle it?"

Vincent yawned, straightening from where he'd been leaning against the doorframe. "Hide."

All eyes turned to him.

Vincent rubbed his sleepy eyes, his voice low and languid. "When trouble comes, hide. Find a place where no one can find you."

Then wait until they let their guard down. One cut is enough.

Efficient. Effortless. Saves ammunition.

Most importantly, watching the prey realize they were dead when they thought themselves safe, that look of shock was more entertaining than any TV drama.

Ivy blinked. Dad's reasoning actually sounded very sensible.

Dad must have watched too many road movies to say something so tactical.

A truck driver's life was truly rich and colorful, having seen all kinds of emergencies on the highway, so he could summarize such clever strategies.

But Vivienne drove her elbow straight into Vincent's ribs.

"You're teaching our daughter to be a coward?"

Vivienne smiled sweetly, but the force in her hand could shatter cattle bones. "Vincent. Do you want to die?"

Vincent grunted, clutching his ribs and crouching down.

Vivienne turned back, her expression resuming its gentle warmth. She took Ivy's hands in hers. "Ivy, Mommy thinks differently from Daddy. The best defense is offense. You need to make others fear you, so they won't dare bully you. So Mommy has decided..."

She took a deep breath, a flicker of fervent light crossing her eyes. "Mommy is going to personally teach you how to protect yourself."

Vivienne turned to Silas. "Silas, what's your opinion?"

Silas thought for two seconds.

"No need to hide. No need to seek them out. Wait for them to come."

"One comes. One gets crippled."

Ivy tilted her head toward Silas, her small hands clapping enthusiastically. "Brother is so amazing! Brother is the best!"

Silas's ear tips flushed slightly pink. He lowered his face, hiding it in shadow.

Vivienne frowned, considering. Silas's plan lacked initiative, but it was at least a hundred times better than Vincent's coward strategy.

Anyone who dared touch one hair on her daughter's head, she would skin alive and make into a lampshade, grind their bones into powder for coffee, and gouge out their eyeballs to use as marbles.