Chapter 37
The words struck Charles like a physical blow.
His fingers slackened–just enough for air to rush back into Teresa’s lungs.
She gulped it greedily, color returning to her cheeks as Charles straightened, putting cold distance between them.
Bathed in the harsh light now, he looked different. The magnetism Teresa once saw in him had been gone.
She coughed, her glare sharp enough to draw blood. “You just destroyed the one person who loved you more than her own life.”
The hatred was old, familiar–for his neglect, his cruelty, his infidelity, his selfishness, his arrogance.
But now, what she felt even more was regret.
She regretted ever falling for Charles, regretted that she was once willing to give up everything for him.
Charles turned away, leaving her staring at the unyielding line of his shoulders.
“You think I care about your feelings?” There is ice laced in every word.
Teresa laughed, brittle. “I know you don’t.”
‘Yeah, he never cares. Not from the very beginning, Teresa thought to herself.
The only one he ever cares about is Naomi.
She snatched her bag, ready to storm out–then froze. Hector. She’d come here for him, and now his ruin was sealed.
Jaw clenched, she hurled the question at Charles’s retreating back. “Name your price. What will it take for you to leave Hector alone?”
Charles didn’t bother turning. “My decisions stand. I don’t rescind orders.” The finality in his voice left no room for negotiation.
Teresa knew it was futile, yet she remained rooted in place–Minutes ticked by until her legs burned with numbness.
Only then did she stagger out, the weight of defeat pressing down on her shoulders.
Across the mansion, Charles sat before an extravagant dinner, appetite absent.
One taste confirmed it–these weren’t Teresa’s flavors. Mrs. Davis’s bland cooking might as well have been ashes on his tongue.
Hector was irrelevant. What gnawed at Charles was Teresa’s defiance–how readily she’d bared her teeth for another man.
‘If she’s determined to paint me the villain, he thought, swirling his wine, ‘then I’ll give her a performance she won’t forget.
In her car, Teresa sat frozen, guilt curdling in her stomach.
Was I too impulsive?
‘Maybe things could have turned out differently, but now Hector’s in an even tougher spot because of me,‘ she thought.
Then, it came the bitter truth. ‘But honestly, even if I hadn’t stirred things up, Hector’s situation probably wouldn’t have been much better.
Her phone shattered the silence–Yolanda’s name flashing on the screen.
Teresa answered after the third ring, voice unusually cool “Yes?
Volanda caught the frost immediately. Mom are you at Grandma’s place?”
Her small voice wavered with unspoken tear the terror of a child sensing love slipping away.
“No” Teresa’s reply was curt
“C” Disappoinunicat dripped Ivan the syllable. You haven’t gotten of work? I thought maybe we could visit Grandma together)
But the truth was vinding Linda was just en cache what she really wanted was to gauge if all cared about her
1:06 PM p p.
Chapter 37
She’d tried Teresa a few days ago, when Teresa had refused to attend the kindergarten event with her, claiming she was not available.
‘If Mom weren’t busy, she’d definitely have gone, Yolanda had told herself, clinging to that thought.
Teresa shut down the idea firmly. “No need. Grandma needs her rest.”
Ever since Yolanda’s incident, Linda had taken ill–not physically, but emotionally, unable to shake off the hurt her granddaughter had caused.
Teresa knew that well.
Yolanda, flustered and suddenly meek, asked, “Mom… are you still mad at me?”
Teresa’s voice was cool, flat. “No.”
Disappointment, when it piled up enough, drained away all expectation.
And without expectation, anger had no fuel to burn.
Yolanda’s voice turned small, tentative. “Mom, will you pick me up after school tomorrow?”
Secretly, she loved when Naomi came her classmates gushed about how beautiful Naomi was, making Yolanda feel like she was on top of the world.
But ever since she’d told Teresa to leave that day, a vague unease had lingered. She just wanted to fix things with her mom.
Teresa had no clue what was going through Yolanda’s head, but tomorrow was packed. She declined again, gently but firmly. “Yolanda, I have to work tomorrow. Let Dad pick you up, okay?“.
Teresa didn’t add anything else. “I’ll hang up now. Go to bed.”
Before Yolanda could say more, the line went dead.
She parked her car and walked in, only to cross paths with Howard, who was heading out.
“Dad? What’s wrong? Where are you off to?” she asked.
Howard explained, “Monica’s been out playing for ages. I’m going to fetch her home.
“Dad, let me go. You go back and rest,” Teresa offered.
Howard nodded. “All right. I’ll have Betty fix dinner, so you can eat as soon as you’re back.” “Okay, Teresa said.
Inside, Yolanda spotted Teresa instantly and hurried to the driver. “Mr. Smith, open the door! I see Mom!”
John Smith, the driver, had noticed Teresa too. He jumped out, reaching to open Yolanda’s door—when Teresa’s voice rang out. “Monica! Timor to come home for dinner!
In no time. Mojca caror bounding over from the little square and launches herself into Exresas seins
1:06 PM P P
“Thanks, cutie. You’re pretty darn adorable yourself,” Teresa said, grinning.
“But everyone says I’m squishy,” Monica mumbled, poking her own cheek.
“Whoever said that is wrong–you’re not squishy! You’re perfect. And when you get older? You’ll bloom like a little flower, just wait and see,” Teresa said, tickling Monica’s side lightly.
“Aunt Teresa’s right, I bet!” Monica said, nodding hard, her pigtails bouncing.
“Come on, let’s head in for dinner. I’ll peel the shrimp for you later, deal?”
“Yay! Shrimp time!” Monica cheered, kicking her legs happily.
Across the street, John held the car door open, but Yolanda just sat there, stiff as a board.
“Miss Yolanda?” John called softly.
Yolanda jolted out of her daze, but her eyes were already shiny with tears.
She’d heard every word–Teresa’s patience, her laughs, the way she fussed over Monica.
But on the phone? Teresa had barely said two sentences before hanging up.
It felt like Teresa didn’t love her anymore.
And Teresa used not to be this cold.
“Miss Yolanda, should we still go see Mrs. Logan?” John asked.
Yolanda’s chest hurt. “No. Take me back to Joyacre Villa. I want to see Miss Naomi.”
If Teresa didn’t love her, there was no point in chasing after her.
Naomi was the best–she cared, she paid attention, she saw her.
But on the drive back, Yolanda couldn’t stop sniffling.
‘Why’d Mom get like this?‘ she thought, rubbing her eyes.
‘She used to love me so much. How can she just… stop?‘
L
She sniffled harder, then squared her shoulders. ‘Fine. If Mom doesn’t love me, I’ve got Miss Naomi. She’s the nicest to me. Always.
五


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