My Daughter Starves while Her Daddy Feeds His Ex’s Princess
I’ve been married to August Hatchett for six years. We were broke, and because I cared about him, I worked odd jobs while raising our daughter.
In the hotel kitchen, my limping daughter helped me wash over two hundred dishes with her small, nimble hands.
When we finally got paid, she looked up at me with sparkling eyes. “Mommy, is it enough now? Can we eat here with Daddy today?”
August has always lived frugally to the point of cruelty. Since our daughter was born, she’s never had a proper restaurant meal in her life.
I looked at her tiny hands, red and peeling from scrubbing, and I bit my lip before nodding.
But the moment we stepped into the dining hall, I froze.
There was August—dressed in a brand-new suit, holding his sister-in-law’s daughter, gently feeding her cake in the soft glow of candlelight.
The manager stopped me with a sympathetic look.
“The second heir of the Hatchetts reserved the whole place for his niece’s birthday party tonight. If you and your daughter want to eat, maybe wait until they’re done and take some leftovers home.”
I knew how much it cost to rent out that full hotel restaurant—at least seven digits.
And every dish on that table looked like it could feed our family for a whole month.
But what really shook me was the way the manager addressed August. “Second heir of the Hanchetts…”
At that moment, the truth was like a sharp knife that pierced my chest.
——
Bellamy’s POV
I knew how much it cost to rent out that full hotel restaurant—at least seven digits.
And every dish on that table looked like it could feed our family for a whole month.
But what really shook me was the way the manager addressed August. “Second heir of the Hanchetts…”
A chill ran through me like a bucket of ice water poured from my head down.
My daughter leaned into me and whispered, “Mommy… is that really Dad? Why did that man call him the second heir?”
My throat tightened. I didn’t know how to explain.
Three years ago, August was still the second heir of the Hatchetts.
When his parents handed all the assets to his older brother—and his first love married that brother—August was so enraged that he cut ties with them.
He didn’t take a single cent.
Then, out of the blue, he called me—the woman who had secretly loved him for years. He was drunk.
One reckless night later, I got pregnant.
And for some reason I still don’t understand… he married me.
I thought if I worked hard and loved him enough, I could win his heart.
But I was wrong.
He never loved me.
And he never cared for our daughter either.
What I didn’t expect… was that he had reconnected with his wealthy family and reclaimed his identity as the second heir—yet never said a word to me or our daughter.
I looked down at Vera’s pants, so faded from wear, and the stretched-out shirt that had been hand-washed too many times. My heart twisted.
But the worst part wasn’t our poverty.
It was her leg.
After a car accident six months ago, we couldn’t afford proper treatment.
The doctor warned that delaying it could leave her permanently disabled.
At the time, August told me he couldn’t borrow money for our daughter’s treatment.
Now I know.
‘It’s not that he doesn’t have the money. He just doesn’t want to spend it on me and our daughter. He’s been pretending to be poor all this time.’
Vera must’ve sensed how upset I was because she suddenly said, softly, “Mommy… I’m not hungry. Let’s just go home. I feel like eating your baked potatoes.”
I looked at her. She was smiling like she wanted to be strong for me.
But she’s just a little kid—her tears welled up anyway.
I held her close and whispered to comfort her.
That night, August finally came home.
Our daughter had stayed up waiting for him.
As soon as she saw him, she ran over like she always did, ready to jump into his arms.
But he stepped aside—like always.
Vera didn’t even flinch; my kid was used to it.
Instead, she gently tugged on her father’s pant leg and asked in a small voice, “Daddy, on my birthday… Can I wear a princess dress? I want a big cake. Well—not too big. Just enough for you, Mommy, and me…”
Vera had never asked for anything before.
Every birthday, she’d just go along with whatever we prepared.
But this time… she made a wish.
August barely paid attention. He just mumbled, “Okay.”
That made Vera’s face lit up. She spun around with joy, saying, “Then I’ll wait for you, Daddy!”
I let myself breathe. ‘Maybe,’ I thought, ‘maybe he’ll finally do something nice for her.’
But the days passed.
One…
Two…
Three…
And not a single sign of a dress.
Vera didn’t complain. But each day, her smile looked more and more forced.
I couldn’t let her down. I decided I’d throw her a birthday party myself.
But when I opened the piggy bank I’d been filling for months… It was empty!
‘My savings have to be here! I’ve saved every bit to buy school supplies and prepare for Vera’s surgery!’
Freaking out, I tore through the living room.
That’s when I found a receipt in August’s drawer. ‘For a gold bracelet?!’
I froze.
[$20,000]
‘The exact amount I had saved!’
Just then, August walked in. His face darkened when he saw what I was holding. He snatched the receipt and snapped, “Why are you going through my stuff?!”
My voice trembled. “You used my savings… to buy a bracelet?”
“It’s for my mom. What’s wrong with being a good daughter-in-law?” he said, like I was being unreasonable.
I stared at him, my throat tight. “What about our daughter’s birthday?”
He waved a hand, looking annoyed. “I’ll buy something. Stop the drama.”
And just like that, he slammed the door and left.
I just stood there, tears stinging my eyes, my chest hurting so bad that I couldn’t breathe.
Then I heard my daughter’s voice—barely a whisper.
“Mommy… let’s wait a little longer. My birthday’s still three days away. Maybe Daddy’s… planning a surprise for me.”
Her voice was so small like she was trying to comfort herself.
Or maybe she was desperately trying to hold onto the last bit of a child’s fantasy.
I crouched down and hugged my innocent daughter tightly.
“Sweetheart… if Mommy and Daddy got divorced… who would you want to live with?”
Chapter 2
Bellamy’s POV
Vera didn’t look up. She kept fiddling with the hem of her shirt and asked in a tiny voice, “Does getting a divorce mean… Mommy and Daddy can’t live together anymore?”
I nodded. The question felt too cruel for someone her age.
She stayed quiet for a long time, her long lashes trembling just a little.
“I… I want to stay with Mommy,” she whispered. Her voice was barely louder than a mosquito’s buzz, but it was so firm that it made my heart twist.
“I’ll be good. I’ll eat less, I won’t ask for new clothes… Mommy, please don’t leave me, okay?”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. I pulled my daughter into my arms and embraced her tightly.
The next morning, I dropped her off at school like usual, and then I got on my scooter to deliver food.
The delivery address was for a fancy swimming center nearby. I figured I could finish this order fast and grab another one right after.
But I didn’t expect to see August there.
He was wearing swim trunks with a shirt thrown over, holding Blanche in his arms as they hurried out of the changing room.
“You should’ve told me it was your period! You know you can’t go in the water like that, right?!” His tone was harsh, but the worry on his face was clear.
Blanche pouted and took the chamomile tea and sanitary pads straight from his hands.
“It’s already the fifth day. Swimming a little won’t hurt. You’re so annoying—still nagging me like we’re dating again. You’re just like a mother!”
I stood there like an outsider, completely frozen.
August saw me but only glanced at me and casually said, “I brought my sister-in-law to practice swimming. Since you’re here, go grab the documents from the locker for me and take them home.”
Blanche leaned into him and gave me an apologetic smile.
“Don’t be mad, sissy. August just felt bad for me and took care of me a bit, that’s all. I don’t know what I and Philomena would have done this year without him…”
“Where… Where’s your husband?” I asked, my voice hoarse.
Blanche looked at me, and there was a flicker of pity in her eyes.
“You didn’t know? Percival… He died in a car accident a year ago.”
I stood there, stunned. The news made my head go completely blank.
‘A whole year? Her husband has been dead for a year now?’
“I really almost didn’t make it back then. If it weren’t for August… I don’t know how I would’ve survived.”
“So when he threw that birthday party for Philomena…” I muttered to myself.
I’d comforted myself, thinking Blanche still had a husband. That nothing would happen between her and my husband—she was his sister-in-law, after all. Family.
‘But her husband had already passed away!’
And the worst part?
‘If her husband died a year ago… then August would’ve inherited the family business a year ago!
‘Yet he never told me!’
‘He still makes me and our daughter live so frugally!
‘What about the money for her treatment six months ago?
‘He wouldn’t even pay a damn cent!’
I wanted to scream, to question him right then and there—but my phone rang. It was the customer asking about their food.
There was no time for me to fight with August.
I apologized on the call and rushed toward the exit. I didn’t even see the rug near the steps, tripped hard, and fell flat on the ground.
At the same moment, I heard a splash—Blanche had slipped and fallen into the pool.
“Blanche!”
I saw August take a step toward me for a split second—but the next, he turned without hesitation and dove into the water, swimming straight to Blanche.
They clung to each other in the pool, their bodies pressed together.
My knee was bleeding, but I couldn’t even feel the pain. I just ran.
‘Six years ago, I lost to Blanche. Six years later, I still can’t compare.’
Chapter 3
Bellamy’s POV
I’d barely reached the entrance of the pool when the customer canceled the order.
The app instantly fined me 20 bucks. I stared at the red deduction, completely drained.
‘But at least, I don’t have to rush another delivery—I finally have a bit of free time.’
After hesitating for a while, I turned around and went to August’s locker.
I opened it, ready to grab the documents he asked for—when something on the bottom shelf caught my eye.
It was a package I recognized immediately—the signature wrapping from that high-end kids’ boutique near our apartment. It was embossed with a gold foil logo.
Inside was a fluffy pink princess dress, covered in silk bows and layers of sheer, feather-light tulle.
My eyes welled up instantly, and for a moment, hope sparked in my heart.
‘Maybe… Maybe August isn’t a good husband. But maybe—just maybe—he’s trying to be a good dad…’
I stuffed the dress back in the bag and grabbed the documents August needed, and then I went home like nothing happened.
Vera was doing her homework. She looked so small, hunched over the desk.
As soon as she heard the door, she looked up.
“Mommy!”
I smiled at her. “Daddy got you a gift. It’s something you’ll love.”
“Really?” Her eyes lit up instantly. She dropped her pen and ran to me.
“You’ll see when he gets back.”
She grinned like sunshine, so pure and warm—completely unaware of the disappointment in my eyes.
That evening, August came home carrying a plain black plastic bag—totally different from the package I’d seen earlier.
“Where’s the dress?” I asked directly.
He tossed the bag on the table and pulled out a wrinkled, dusty pink—or maybe gray—cheap tulle dress. “Isn’t this it?”
The light in my daughter’s eyes dimmed instantly.
My eyes widened. My fingers trembled slightly as I touched the fabric. “This isn’t the one I saw… you—”
Before I could finish, August impatiently cut me off. “You’re getting more and more unreasonable, you know that? Where would I get money to buy something that expensive? I’ve got a whole family to support!”
Vera stood beside me, her little face full of awkwardness and unease.
She tugged at my hand gently and whispered, “Mommy, I like this one… It’s pretty too. I’ll wear it on my birthday, okay?”
She tried so hard to smile, hugging that cheap little dress like it was a treasure.
August’s eyes lit up with pride. “That’s my girl—so understanding!”
During dinner, he even peeled shrimp for her. Vera’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him—like she was seeing stars.
I watched them and couldn’t hold back the redness around my eyes.
‘She rarely gets affection from her dad, so even the tiniest bit of warmth from him means everything…’
But I couldn’t stop thinking about that princess dress hidden in his locker.
‘If it isn’t for our daughter… who is it for?’
I slipped into the bathroom, pulled out my phone, opened Facebook, and—almost without thinking—stalked Blanche’s main account.
I scrolled and scrolled… and then I saw it—the exact same pink princess dress…
Worn by her daughter.
The caption read: [Thanks to Uncle A for the beautiful princess dress—Philomena loves it!”
On her little girl’s wrist was a gold bracelet—the same one worth 20,000 fucking grand for August’s “mom.” It was glinting sharply under the light.
My phone slipped from my hand and hit the floor, adding another crack across the screen.
In the harsh bathroom light, I stared at my exhausted reflection in the mirror.
And then suddenly, I laughed.
I laughed so hard that the tears rolled down my face.
Chapter 4
Bellamy’s POV
That night, after his shower, August wrapped an arm around me like he always did—clearly expecting kiss.
But I stiffened and pushed him away.
His eyes darkened. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about that damn dress?”
I turned my head and took a deep breath. “You know how excited our daughter was about that princess dress you promised her!”
“Bellamy, you’re seriously hard to please. Don’t you know what kind of financial situation we’re in? And you’re nitpicking over some overpriced stupid dress?”
He gave this mocking little smile like I was out of my mind.
Hearing his words felt absurd.
And honestly, maybe I would’ve felt guilty if I still thought he was struggling. But I know now—he’s back with the Hatchetts. To someone like him, a few hundred bucks is pocket change.
Before I could say anything, we heard two soft knocks at the door.
Vera walked in, holding her stuffed toy.
“Mommy, I don’t really wanna sleep yet,” she mumbled, biting her lip. “Tomorrow’s my birthday. But I still have to go to school.”
She glanced between August and me, her eyes full of hope.
“And tomorrow’s Valentine’s Day. Everyone’s supposed to bring stuff for a little fair, and moms and dads can come too.”
She edged closer to her dad. “Daddy, will you come?”
August paused, clearly caught off guard, but he eventually said, “Yeah, I’ll come.”
I quietly let out a breath. At least he didn’t crush her excitement.
I’d long stopped expecting money from him. From how he’d kept things from us this past year, I already knew what kind of answer I’d get if I asked.
Early in the morning, I rushed to do deliveries. Just as I sat down to grab a quick bite and rest, my phone rang.
“Hi, Mrs. Hatchett? This is Teacher Loretta from the kindergarten. Could you please come over? Your daughter had a conflict with a classmate and damaged a dress. Some parents are very upset.”
Instinctively, I asked, “What about her dad? Isn’t be participating in the event today?”
There was a brief pause on the other end. “Sorry, and he is…?”
I felt a lump rise in my throat, my whole body suddenly cold like I’d been thrown into a freezer.
‘August… didn’t show up?!’
I didn’t even change out of my delivery uniform—I just jumped on my scooter and sped to the school like a maniac.
The moment I got there, I saw a crowd gathered in the corner of the playground.
‘And where is August?’
Oh, he was there—but not with our daughter.
He was crouched in front of another little girl, tying her shoelaces.
I recognized the girl right away—Blanche’s daughter. Philomena.
My heart sank.
‘Where’s my daughter?’
I searched through the crowd for a long while until I finally saw Vera—standing alone in a corner.
Her face was puffy and red, her eyes swollen from crying. Her new dress was a mess, one sleeve torn nearly in half, and there were scratches on the back of her hand.
My heart pounded like a drum as I rushed over. “Vera!”
She looked up and, upon seeing me, burst into tears and threw herself into my arms. “Mommy…”
I held her tightly. “What happened? Why were you fighting?”
“I didn’t cut her dress!” she said through sobs. “They said mine was ugly! They said I looked like a beggar! They ganged up and started pulling at my dress…”
She gritted her teeth, eyes filled with stubborn tears.
“I wouldn't let them, so I pushed one of them away… and then they all said I started hitting her! They even said… my mommy’s a delivery lady who can’t afford pretty clothes…”
Before she could finish, a voice barked out, “Vera, stop lying!”
August stormed over and yanked our daughter’s arm, his face dark.
“When did you become so out of control? Your mother didn’t teach you how to behave, so I will!”
The moment he raised his hand, everything went black for a second.
I stepped in front of my little girl… and took the slap square on my cheek.
Chapter 5
Bellamy’s POV
A smack rang out, and the crowd fell silent.
My cheek stung like fire, but I clenched my teeth and forced out each word clearly.
“August. Whose father are you?!”
He froze, staring at me.
I repeated the question, almost biting the words out from my throat.
“You’re defending Blanche’s daughter while screaming at your own flesh and blood. Search your conscience, and tell me—whose father are you really?!”
He looked like he wanted to say something—but right then, Philomena started wailing.
And just like that, he turned away and went to comfort someone else’s daughter in a soft voice.
Just then, something tugged at the hem of my shirt.
Vera stood from behind me. Her small body trembled from crying, but she stood up straight.
She lifted her tear-streaked face, and for the first time, she looked at her father with eyes full of anger.
“Don’t hit Mommy!” Her voice was shaky but clear. “Daddy is a bad guy!”
August looked stunned.
He probably never imagined that the little girl who used to wait eagerly for him to come home would ever say that to him.
I saw embarrassment flash across his face—but it quickly twisted into anger.
“Who taught you to speak to me like that?”
Whispers started in the crowd. Some well-dressed parents were pointing at us, judging.
I suddenly realized I was still wearing my sweaty delivery uniform with a grease stain near the cuff from that morning.
And then Blanche finally arrived.
She was wearing a designer dress and carried a luxury handbag, smiling sweetly as she apologized to the homeroom teacher.
“So sorry for the trouble, Miss Loretta. Philomena caused a bit of drama today.”
She patted her daughter’s head.
“Philomena, apologize now.”
Looking every bit the perfect little angel, Philomena lowered her head slightly to Vera. “Sorry.”
August gave her a proud nod, then turned with a dark expression to question Vera.
“Well? Philomena already apologized. Don’t you think you should, too, Vera?”
‘Apologize? For what?’
“She didn’t do anything wrong! Why should she apologize?!” I couldn’t help raising my voice.
The teacher stepped in, looking uncomfortable. “Ma’am, please calm down. The other parents are asking for compensation…”
I stood and pulled Vera protectively behind me.
“Miss Loretta, do you even know what happened? Those kids mocked my daughter and even tried to strip her dress.”
The teacher hesitated. “Well… the children are giving different stories…”
Suddenly, a little girl with pigtails stepped forward.
“It was Philomena and her friends! They said Vera’s dress looked like it came from the trash. They wanted to see if a beggar’s daughter even wore underwear…”
Gasps spread through the crowd.
I saw August’s face go pale while Blanche quickly pulled Philomena behind her.
“They’re just kids—saying nonsense!” August barked. “Philomena would never say something like that!”
‘God. He really believes that kid over his own daughter.’
I closed my eyes, forcing down the rage boiling inside me.
Then I said to the teacher, calmly, “First, if there’s compensation needed, take it from August. He’s her father. Second, my daughter has done nothing wrong.”
And with that, I took Vera’s hand and walked away.
On the way out, I could hear parents whispering.
“Look at that girl, limping like that. No wonder they call her a crippled beggar.”
Another parent muttered, just loud enough for me to hear, “And her mother's just as useless.”
My daughter suddenly stopped and turned around. Her little face flushed red.
“I’m not a beggar!” she shouted. “And my mommy’s not useless! My mommy is the best mom in the world!”
Chapter 6
Bellamy’s POV
The nasty things people said around us felt like knives stabbing into my chest.
But what hurt even more was that my daughter had to learn how to deal with cruelty at such a young age.
“Vera’s right. We’re not beggars!”
I crouched down and pulled her into my arms, feeling her little body tremble against me.
That’s when I noticed—her old leg injury was making her stand at a slight angle.
Panic shot through me. I stood up quickly, ready to take her to the hospital.
“Mom,” she whispered in my ear as we rode the scooter, her voice way too mature for someone her age. “I’m not in pain. Really. We don’t need to go to the hospital.”
That shattered me.
She was just a kid, but she knew—she was trying to protect me from spending money.
I bit my lip so hard that it nearly bled, forcing myself not to cry in front of her.
I wished she could be like other kids—spoiled and carefree. Not like this. Not forced to grow up and comfort me.
“I’ll get your leg fixed, sweetheart. You won’t hurt anymore.” I said it with every ounce of strength I had left.
At the hospital, the doctor looked serious. “If you don’t schedule surgery soon, your daughter’s going to have a permanent limp.”
My stomach dropped. Everything blurred.
With trembling fingers, I called August. My voice cracked from the anxiety.
“August, I need money. I have to have our daughter’s leg treated!”
He had taken all the money I’d saved. Now, when it really mattered, I had no choice but to ask him.
There was a pause on the other end before he finally spoke—cold as ice.
“Bellamy, what kind of madness is this? Where would I get the money?”
I couldn’t breathe, panic tightening my chest. My voice came out hoarse.
“You can pretend you’re broke all you want, but how could you do this to Vera? She’s your daughter, too! Dammit, August, she doesn’t deserve this!”
But all I got in response was the same cold silence, as if his daughter’s pain meant nothing compared to keeping up his lies.
Furious and on the edge of collapse, I hung up and immediately contacted my divorce lawyer.
Atty. Rowlands already prepared the papers. He looked at me with a sharp, calculating glint.
“Based on my estimate, Mr. August’s assets are in the nine figures. How much do you want to go after?”
I hadn’t planned to ask for much—just enough to cover Vera’s surgery and her schooling. But suddenly, I was furious.
‘Why shouldn't I ask for more?’
“She’s his daughter too! I don’t care about what I’ve been through, but she shouldn’t have to suffer! I’m not just asking for medical bills and tuition anymore.”
I said it through clenched teeth, my anger burning.
‘If August’s money isn’t going to us, who’s it going to?’
I already knew the answer.
And the only way I could get the money from him was through a lawsuit.
The lawyer paused. “So you’ve decided?”
“Yes,” I confirmed coldly. “Do whatever it takes. Whatever I get, you’ll get 30%.”
He smiled and started drafting the papers immediately.
When I finally held the divorce agreement in my hands, it barely felt real. I… I had actually made this decision.
Without hesitation, I left the papers on the coffee table in the living room, grabbed Vera, and walked out of that apartment that had broken my heart one more time.
