His Perfect Wife Strikes Back

178 An Unknown Brother

"Have we met before, sir?" I looked at the man in the wheelchair. He had Mickle's face and pale blue eyes. I can't remember where I saw him.

"Are you dressed, Eva?" Ian came over and urged me. "We're ready for the photo."

"I've already changed."

"Iverson, what are you doing here?" Ian noticed the man in the wheelchair. "It's not your turn to take pictures yet. You can rest in your room."

"So, this woman is my father's other daughter?" The man looked at me with a half-smile. "I'm Iverson, Mickle's loser son."

This disabled man is Mickle's son? I've never seen him on the news. No wonder he looks like Mickle.

"Iverson, you'd better not say that to the press." Ian looked serious. "You should know very well why you're here."

"I cooperate with you, I understand that," Iverson said as he pressed the button on the electric wheelchair, which immediately turned around.

"Let me know when it's my turn to perform."

As I watched the man in the wheelchair leave, I couldn't help but ask Ian, "Is his leg hurt?"

"We don't have time to talk about this right now." Ian tugged my arm and walked out. "The press is waiting for you."

When I returned to the garden table, Mia gave me an impatient look. She complained at a volume I could hear.

"You take too long to change. Everyone has to wait for you here in the sun. Please come back next time when you are dressed!"

"Shut up, Mia!" I straightened up and got ready to take the picture.

The photographer asked us to act calm at the table, and Mickle's wife chose a random topic to discuss during breakfast. Mia pretended to listen when Mickle or Catherine spoke. She even copies Catherine's demeanour and avoids showing her teeth when she smiles. Her eyes were usually filled with family bliss.

The photographer's camera was virtually focused on the three of them because of their outstanding performance. I sat there, a stiff smile on my lips. The breakfast shot was completed one hour later.

Ian tells us that the table will be moved indoors in half an hour. When the cameras stopped pointing at us, Mickle got up and left the table. His other assistant handed him the phone.

Mickle answered the phone and headed for the lawn, his wife following in his footsteps. She didn't even look at me or Mia.

"She's so cold," Mia complained to Catherine's back.

"Are you going to let her kiss and hug you like you're her daughter?" I taunted Mia. "Don't forget, you're just her stepdaughter!"

"Shut up, Eva!" Mia whispered. "One day I'll be the mistress of this manor. We'll see about that!"

"Don't always copy her!" I reminded her. "You'll never be her, and you'll never replace her!"

I can't understand why Mia's vanity always swells when she meets someone better than her. She wants too much, like a fisherman's wife in a fairy tale.

At first, she had the fisherman ask the god for a thatched house, then a big house made of bricks, and eventually, she even wanted to be queen.

Oh! No! Mia, don't be a fisherman's wife. Because you will never be a queen.

Maybe it's her experience that makes her vain, or maybe she has the same competitive gene as Mickle.

Should I warn her?

"Eva, do you want to go to your room to rest first?" Ian walked over and glanced at my stomach. "I've got someone to prepare a lounge and snacks for you!"

"Thank you, Ian!" I caught up with Ian after everyone had left.

"The man I just met outside the locker room, is he really Mickle's son?" I asked.

"Who?" Ian feigned amnesia.

"Iverson!" I said. "The man in the wheelchair."

"Oh, yes!" Said Ian. "He's the son of Mickle and his ex-wife!"

"What happened to his leg?"

Ian frowned and paused for a few seconds. I guess he's wondering if he should answer me.

"Iverson was a peacekeeper. He was injured on a mission and his legs were paralyzed," Ian said, looking around, "This is a painful memory for Iverson," he told me in a low voice. "Mr Blanton has kept this from the press."

"That's too bad," I thought of the dark clouds in my pale blue eyes when I first met him.

"So don't mention it in front of Mr Blanton or Iverson."

"Does he live here, too?" I asked curiously.

"No. He's been in the nature sanitarium for a long time," Ian said. "I picked him up today just to take pictures."

As he spoke, he stepped up his pace, apparently to avoid me. He didn't want to give me any more information.

I always thought Mickle and his wife had only one daughter, but he had a son. I had previously searched the Internet for information about Mickle's family, and none of the information about him mentioned his son or ex-wife.

I wondered, was he really protecting his son?

As I was about to step into the house, I heard the sound of a heated argument.

"You bitch, you broke my mother's favourite vase!" Said a woman in a shrill voice. "Didn't your mother teach you not to touch things that don't belong to you?"

"I didn't mean to break the vase. I apologize to you!" The voice was definitely Mia.

I walked into the house and saw Mia arguing with another girl, an expensive-looking enamel vase shattered all over the floor.

"I don't understand why dad put you in this house." The girl pointed at Mia's nose and said, "What right do you have to live here?"

"Who are you to judge me?" Mia didn't back down.

"I am my father's daughter!" The girl put her hands on her hips. "And you are a mongrel!"

"I'm my father's daughter, too!" Mia prods her. "And your mother is just a slut pretending to be a Lady!"

The girl was so angry that she slapped Mia in the face. Mia threw her to the ground. I tried to stop her, but it was too late. They were already fighting.

"Mia!" I shouted. "Stop!"