The 0% Dad Is A Secret Bitcoin King

CHAPTER 4: SERVANT

Garrett’s hand was on the brass front doorknob when a bedroom door clicked open down the hallway.

Little Toby walked out into the living room,

dragging an expensive teddy bear by its arm. He was wearing brand-new pajamas—a pair Garrett knew he hadn't bought.

Toby didn't run over to hug Garrett's leg. He didn't ask where Garrett was going with a packed bag. He didn't even look him in the eye.

Instead, the five-year-old threw himself onto the sofa, kicked his feet up onto the armrest, and pointed a finger toward the kitchen.

"Get me a glass of ice water," Toby ordered, his voice sharp and demanding. "And don't make it warm like last time."

The words struck him like a slap to the face.

Garrett froze. His hand stayed fixed on the door handle.

Behind him, Evelyn didn't correct the boy. She didn't tell him to say please, nor did she remind him to call Garrett "Dad." She just stood next to Theo, watching with an indifferent look on her face. To her, this was normal. This was how things had always been.

Slowly, Garrett turned around.

For five years, he had spent midnight after midnight sitting by this boy's bed, pressing damp towels to his forehead when he ran fevers. When he called him ‘Papa’ through his gapped teeth, in discomfort from a high fever. He had gone to sleep on an empty stomach dozens of times just to make sure Toby had fresh fruit and imported milk. He had worked his fingers to the bone, coming home with bleeding knuckles, just to hear the boy laugh.

And now, looking closely at the child sitting on the couch, the scales finally fell from Garrett's eyes.

The sharp arc of the boy's jawline. The double eyelids. The exact shape of his thin upper lip.

Toby didn't have the Dalton family features. Not one.

Garrett shifted his gaze slightly to the man standing by the kitchen island. Theo Hudson had the same jawline. The same eyelids. The same arrogant tilt of the chin.

It wasn't just resemblance—it was a carbon copy.

How had he been so blind? How had he let his love for this family blind him to the blatant truth standing right in front of him for five long years?

Worse than the physical resemblance was the way the boy looked at him. There was no affection in those five-year-old eyes. No respect anymore.

To Toby, Garrett wasn't a father who slaved away to keep a roof over his head. He was just the man who cleaned the house, fixed the broken toys, and brought food to the table. He was an unpaid servant.

Yesterday, Toby had thrown his arms around Theo Hudson’s legs, beaming with pride as he shouted "Daddy!"

Today, he looked at Garrett like trash stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

Theo smirked, crossing his arms as he waited to see if Garrett would obey the child like he usually did.

Toby frowned when Garrett didn't move toward the kitchen immediately. "Did you hear me? I said I want water!"

Garrett looked at the boy. The raw, agonizing pain that had threatened to tear his heart apart earlier suddenly left. In its place, a cold unyielding numbness settled in.

He didn't get angry.

"Get it yourself," Garrett said.

Toby’s eyes went wide with shock. Evelyn gasped, taking an instinctive step forward.

"Garrett! He's just a child—"

Garrett didn't wait to hear the rest of her sentence.

He turned his back on all three of them, opened the door, and stepped out into the hallway.

He pulled the heavy door shut behind him with a firm, decisive click.