I finally learned to surrender after Phoebe Watson imprisoned me in the mental hospital for three years.
That day, she arrived to pick me up with her bump sticking out, accompanied by her young lover.
I naturally took the bag from the young man's hand and considerately opened the car door for her.
"From now on, you'll be responsible for taking care of Jose and me. Both he and the baby are your family now," Phoebe said.
I nodded obediently.
Unbelievable. After driving my parents to their deaths, she kindly gifted me two new "family members."
Once home, I got up at five every day to study pregnancy recipes. At eight, I woke Phoebe on time and accompanied her to prenatal yoga classes. By ten, I had snacks and tea ready, listening as she and her lady friends praised me for being such a considerate and useful lackey.

Day after day, this continued until Phoebe gave birth.
On the day they put up the new family photo, she stared at the intimate trio in the picture, her voice trembling. "Hans, why didn't you insist on being in the photo?"
Insist? In the mental hospital, I only learned to be obedient and how to turn others into the mentally ill.
Hearing her question clearly, I calmly finished wringing out the cloth in my hands. "Madam, I don't like taking photos."
Phoebe frowned. Her gaze fixed intently on me as if trying to see whether I lied or not while I quietly wiped the dust off the family photo, adjusting the frame little by little until it was perfectly still.
Jose stood on the stairs, a hint of smugness flashing in his eyes. He walked over, scooped Phoebe up in his arms and kissed her deeply on the lips.
"You're back!" he exclaimed. "I tried putting the baby to sleep myself today and I actually succeeded."
Phoebe glanced at me instinctively.
I nodded, the corners of my mouth lifting into a sincere smile of praise. "Mr. Levine is indeed amazing. He effortlessly lulled the baby to sleep."
I could see Phoebe's frown deepen, but I had no time to play word games with her because the nourishing soup for her was simmering on the stove.
I hurried into the kitchen, slipped on heat-resistant gloves and carefully carried the soup out.
Jose sat at the dining table. His hand was squeezing Phoebe's soft breasts as he chuckled softly. "I'm jealous. Why has the baby been monopolizing this area for the past few days? You'll have to make it up to me tonight."
Phoebe giggled, but her laughter died the instant she saw me.
I carefully ladled the nourishing soup into her bowl, letting it cool thoughtfully.
At the same time, Jose smiled gently at me. "You should sit down and eat, too."
Phoebe also pulled out a chair for me and nodded softly. "Taking care of the child is tiring. You should rest."
I lowered my gaze and declined with a smile. "It's my honor to help Madam look after the baby. I'm not tired at all."
My answer made Jose's lips curve in satisfaction. His eyes now flashed with a contempt impossible to ignore.
I stood obediently by the dining table, remembering the last time Jose saw Phoebe holding my hand. He had deliberately claimed the soup was too salty that day.
That man eventually punished me by making me kneel in the courtyard under the scorching sun until deep into the night. My knees ended up scraped raw and my whole body was covered in peeling skin.
I knew he tried to warn me that Phoebe was not someone I could even dream of.
After the meal, Jose pushed the leftover scraps from the soup bowl towards me. I didn't understand his meaning, so I poured the scraps into the trash can as usual.
But Jose suddenly raised his voice, glancing meaningfully at Phoebe. "Hans, if you don't like it, you can tell me. I know you didn't get to eat well in the mental hospital, so I specially saved the mushroom from the soup for you. That's top-grade mushroom. How could you waste my good intentions like that?"