Chapter 3
The next morning, I came downstairs to find Grace Taylor already there.
The twins were buzzing around her.
"Auntie Grace, I made this myself. It's for you."
Mia loved crafts. Over the years, her creations from kindergarten onward had filled an entire wall.
The one she'd given Grace was an exquisitely made little rabbit.
Not to be outdone, Charlie pulled out his newest toy set and assembled a ship.
"Auntie Grace, this one's from me."
My mother-in-law smiled, sandwiched between them.
"You can tell that these two really adore you," she said.
The atmosphere was so warm.
The moment I appeared, it felt like I shattered that warmth.
The twins immediately edged away from me, even shielding Grace behind them.
Because the last time she and I were alone, she'd accidentally broken a nail and drawn blood.
They all believed I'd pushed her.
"Mrs. Bennett invited you shopping," my mother-in-law said, taking a sip of tea. "Do you want to go with her?"
In the past, she wouldn't have asked my opinion. She'd just order me around.
"No," I replied.
Grace chimed in with well-meaning concern.
"The Bennetts are one of the biggest names in luxury jewelry. Claire, are you sure it's a good idea to skip it?"
Charlie said flatly, "She'd just embarrass us anyway. I don't want the other kids to make fun of me."
Mia echoed him, her voice soft and sweet.
"Yeah. She's not our mom anyway. Why don't you be our mom?"
Grace crouched down and gently chided them.
"Who taught you to say that?"
"Nobody. We just like you better," Mia said.
Grace pinched her cheek gently.
"Thank you for liking me, but a child can only have one mom, you know."
"Then can you be our mom instead?" Mia said sweetly.
To me, it felt like a thousand tiny needles.
The maid brought over a covered bowl of soup.
"The finest nourishing soup, simmered with truffles and rare herbs. Miss Taylor, do try it," the maid offered.
She was just a guest here.
The moment she appeared, she outshone six years of my effort.
She made me look like nothing.
But who cared?
I was about to leave when Grace brought the bowl over to me.
"Don't take what the children say to heart. I heard you had a miscarriage three years ago and hadn't been able to conceive since. You need the nourishment more than I do," she said softly.
"No, thank you."
I was in a hurry to leave and meet a lawyer to draw up the divorce papers.
Grace ran after me and stepped in front of me.
Her body swayed as if caught by a gust of wind, and she fell backward.
The scalding soup spilled all over her, instantly blooming into vivid red welts.
She lay on the floor crying out in pain.
My broken finger had been twisted, the old wound flaring white with pain, and I couldn't help snapping.
"Why were you running around with hot soup?"
Mia charged at me from behind, her small body slamming into mine.
My hand was forced against the marble pillar, and the pain shot up my arm.
"You wicked woman! You pushed Auntie Grace!" she shouted angrily.
Charlie ran over too, hands on his hips, shielding Grace.
"You don't deserve to be our mother at all," he said, echoing Mia's words.
"Don't blame Mrs. Walker," Grace said weakly. "It was an accident."
"She's no Mrs. Walker! I don't accept her!" Charlie fumed.
My mother-in-law wanted to smooth things over.
"Perhaps the bowl slipped. Bring another one."
She'd navigated business and social circles for decades. How could she not see through this trick?
She simply didn't want to expose it in front of the children, afraid of tainting their innocence.
But what was the point of raising children who couldn't tell right from wrong, who couldn't distinguish good from evil?
I rubbed my hand and tried to leave, but Charlie wouldn't let me.
With a look of righteous indignation so like his father's, he said, "Apologize to Auntie Grace."