Pampered by My Secret Husband

“That’s the initial of Young Madam’s name that you tattooed for her.”

Thomas Shannon: “…”

Hit with 10,000 points of critical damage!

To regain some face, Thomas Shannon snorted coldly and stubbed out the cigarette butt, “So it seems that woman is really blind!”

If even he isn’t good enough for her, what else could it be but blindness?

Charlie River: “…”

Young Master, better say less of this topic. If the Young Madam finds out… you’ll be in trouble.

A soft knock at the door, followed by Snowball’s tiny voice, “Daddy, story time.”

Thomas Shannon immediately picked up the air freshener on the table, sprayed it a few times in the air, letting the faint lemon scent envelop him, and then responded, “Daddy’s coming right away.”

He opened the study door, and Little Snowball spread her arms, asking for a hug.

Thomas Shannon bent down and picked her up. The little fellow in pink pajamas felt soft and sweet like a cotton candy.

“Did you drink your milk?”

Snowball nodded.

“Did you brush your teeth?”

Snowball nodded again.

Leaning against the wall, arms coldly crossing her chest was Sophie Sullivan, who sneered, full of disdain.

Whatever he thought of, could she not have thought of?

After all, she personally cared for Oliver Westlake for three years; she’s more than experienced enough to overshadow him.

Ignoring Sophie’s provocation, Thomas Shannon carried her back to the bedroom, with Sophie following closely behind. Thomas Shannon lowered his gaze, his forehead resting against Snowball’s forehead, gently rubbing, “Snowball, how about sleeping with Daddy tonight?”

Snowball smiled softly at the corners of her lips, “Okay.”

“Good baby!” Thomas Shannon adjusted his direction, carrying Snowball directly back to his own bedroom.

Sophie got anxious, “Thomas Shannon, where are you taking Snowball?”

“What business of yours is that?” Thomas Shannon entered the bedroom and kicked the door shut with his foot.

With a bang, he successfully locked Sophie out.

Snowball turned her little head, looking towards the doorway. Thomas Shannon lifted the silk quilt and laid her down, then turned to grab a book, only to see her still looking at the door.

Sitting at the bedside, Thomas Shannon tapped her cheek with his long index finger, “Snowball, what are you looking at?”

“Mommy.”

Thomas Shannon rubbed his forehead, “What’s so interesting about her? Daddy will tell you a story. Tonight, does Snowball want to hear about Hot Blood Warrior or Flames of War?”

Snowball’s thick eyelashes fluttered like a little fan, blinking softly and sweetly, “Warrior.”

Thomas Shannon was extremely satisfied, leaning against the head of the bed, his deep, magnetic voice softened and slowed down, flowing like a cello, rich like fine wine.

Sophie stomped her foot angrily, the shameless guy!

Just because she couldn’t enter his bedroom, he dared to take Snowball back there!

Bastard!

An idea suddenly struck Sophie, she turned and quickly went downstairs.

Downstairs, Oliver Westlake lay in James Shannon’s arms, like a little sparrow waiting to be fed, with its little mouth open, waiting to be fed.

James Shannon, a man as coldly arrogant and ruthless as Thomas Shannon, at this moment was surprisingly radiant with a benevolent glow.

He’s ready to fulfill Oliver’s every request, feeding him fruit, milk, serving him with utmost care.

Hearing footsteps, Oliver’s little head turned suddenly, looking at Sophie with bright eyes, “Fennie, you’re here!”

James Shannon slightly curled the corner of his mouth, nodding at Sophie in greeting.

Sophie felt a bit awkward, she waved her hand, “Oliver, come over, it’s time for your bath.”

Oliver reluctantly crawled out from James Shannon’s embrace.