They canceled my flight, so I returned to my mansion in silence. When I opened the door, I found my four-year-old daughter trembling with hunger, clutching a heavy book while my wife snapped, “If you drop it, you start over.”

“Enough dramatics,” she said coolly. “It’s discipline. Or would you prefer your daughter grows up weak, spoiled, and mediocre? I’m building character.”

Later, in the living room, Alexander faced her.

“Discipline?” His voice cracked. “She’s four years old!”

“Exactly,” Stephanie replied. “That’s when shaping is easiest. You don’t understand, Alexander. Children aren’t raised with love alone. They need control. Resistance. Elegance. Willpower. Lily could be extraordinary—if she stops behaving like a weak little girl.”

She glanced at Lily, still clutching the bread like treasure.

“Give it to me, sweetheart,” Stephanie said, extending her hand. “That bloats you. I’ll make you warm lemon water instead.”

Lily shrank back in fear.

“No… I’m hungry…”

Alexander moved before thinking. He stepped between them and knocked Stephanie’s hand away.

“Don’t ever touch my daughter again.”

For the first time, Stephanie’s composure cracked.

Minutes later, Alexander sat in the backseat of his SUV, holding Lily tightly, wrapping her in his jacket while Mrs. Carter whispered prayers.

At the pediatric ER, the results came quickly—and brutally.

Lily wasn’t sick.