Unmasking Mrs. Newton's Secret Identities novel Chapter 1866

If marriage were just about finding a man to bring home and spending a lifetime taking care of his every need, Abigail would much rather remain single.

Becoming a nun didn't sound so bad either—at least she wouldn't have to deal with endless responsibilities.

"Is that really what this is about?" Helen asked, half-amused. "When did you get here?"

"Somewhere around nine or ten, I think," Abigail answered, uncertain of the exact time.

"No wonder," Helen said, a knowing smile forming.

"No wonder what?" Abigail asked, still puzzled.

"You only saw me taking care of Chandler, but you didn't know he makes me breakfast every morning. It's no wonder you misunderstood."

Helen then took a moment to explain the dynamics of married life.

"Marriage is about mutual care. The reason I've been busy all day is because I genuinely enjoy it. Knowing that my efforts bring happiness to my family brings me joy, and that, in turn, gives me fulfillment. If all someone does is eat and sleep, how are they any different from a pig?"

Abigail still didn't quite understand. "Working and being happy at the same time? That doesn't make sense." She'd much rather leave such tasks to the housekeepers.

"Let me ask you something," Helen said, changing her approach. "Remember when you built that car for Taylor? Didn't you feel happy while you were working on it?"

"Of course," Abigail answered without thinking, then quickly corrected herself. "But it was painful too."

After giving the car to Taylor, they lost contact when Abigail left Grand Cathay. The heartache that followed was so overwhelming that those few joyful days seemed trivial in comparison.

Helen paused, trying to find the right words. "Anyway, happiness is subjective, like drinking water—only you can feel whether it's warm or cold. But I can tell you this—Chandler treats me very well."

Noticing Abigail's lingering skepticism, she subtly glanced toward the living room before leaning in to whisper, "Here's a little secret—Chandler actually hand-washes my underwear."

Before Abigail could respond, Helen cleared her throat, worried Abigail might slip up. She quickly picked up a shrimp and placed it on Chandler's plate. "Honey, eat up!"

Chandler shot her a curious glance, still intent on getting to the bottom of the matter. But before he could press further, Lincoln seized the opportunity to cause some mischief.

"Daddy, it's obvious your actions have caused some tension. Maybe it's time to reflect on how you're behaving."

Chandler scowled, his brow furrowing in frustration. "Between the two of us, who's the one with more wisdom?"

"Isn't Socrates a wise philosopher?" Sienna piped up, eager to join the conversation.

"Yes," Abigail added, scooping food onto her plate. "And so is Plato. Nana, you're so clever."

Chandler rubbed his temples in resignation. It was clear he had lost all authority in the house, with even the little ones turning his words against him.