Chapter 2

Standing at the school entrance, surrounded by a bunch of kids clamoring for my attention, I didn't catch what was being said at first.

Caleb snorted coldly. "Come back when you're done with your tantrum. Spencer and I are busy. We don't have time for your childish games."

Time and again, Caleb and Spencer would dismiss everything I did as nothing more than childish nonsense.

It reminded me of the time when Spencer was nine. He'd tossed aside the snack pack I'd brought home for him.

He said, "Grandma says this kind of stuff is just junk food for poor people."

I raised my hand in fury, poised to strike, but couldn't bring myself to hit him.

When I couldn't hold back my tears, Spencer looked at me calmly and said, "Mom, even the first-grade girls at my school don't throw such childish tantrums anymore."

He'd called me childish.

I snapped out of my thoughts and tried to stay composed. "I remember I made myself perfectly clear the day I left."

Caleb's voice was laced with disbelief. "Are you actually serious about the divorce? You still have to come back to sign the papers. When will you stop being so impulsive?"

I felt a little hand tug at my sleeve.

I gently stroked the kid's head and said emotionlessly, "I've entrusted all the paperwork to Mr. Vance and signed all the necessary documents. Mr. Vance mentioned he's already contacted you. If there's nothing else, please don't bother me again."

Some parents had already gathered outside the school gates, waiting to sign out their kids.

I moved to end the call.

Suddenly, Spencer's voice cut in, awkward and displeased, with the same cold detachment as Caleb's. "What about me?"

My fingers hovered over the phone screen, then suddenly froze in place.

My chest tightened with a sharp pang of pain.

After a long, heavy silence, I still couldn't bring myself to say anything and ended the call.

Whether I wanted custody of Spencer or not, it was never going to be mine.

Besides, he was already 14, admitted to the gifted program at Xiamont's top university and standing nearly six feet tall.

He was far more intelligent and knowledgeable than his peers.

The Burns family provided him with his own house, the best housekeeper money could buy, and an unlimited black card.

He was no longer that little boy who needed my care and support.

After hanging up, I began handing off each kid to their parents who had signed them out.

As evening approached, it started pouring. Three kids remained uncollected, and their parents couldn't be reached.

The town was remote, with nearly all the young adults having gone away for work.

Most children left behind were cared for by elderly grandparents.

Due to their poor memory, not knowing how to use a phone, and all sorts of other reasons, every now and then, the kids would end up walking home alone when no one came to pick them up.

With the heavy rain posing safety risks, I informed the school and took the kids to my place temporarily.

My father pulled up in his big truck to pick us up.

He chuckled as he watched me herd the kids onto the truck. "Looks like we're hauling a load of little piglets!"

The kids cheered from the truck, "Wow, your truck is so awesome!"

My father burst into hearty laughter from the driver's seat.

He adored children. I hadn't seen him laugh like that since Spencer came to visit when he was eight.

Once we got home, I had the kids take turns showering.

I rummaged through the clothes Spencer had left here when he was eight and picked out a few sets for the kids to wear.

Every year, my father would wash these clothes several times.

He always thought Spencer would come back and might still be able to wear those clothes.

After their baths, the kids gathered around boisterously for dinner.

That evening, as I was helping the kids with their homework in the living room, a sudden knock came at the door.

My father was doing the kids' laundry when he heard a noise, got up, and went to the door. "Who's coming to pick up the kids at this late hour?"

The door swung open.

I got up to follow, only to see my father freeze abruptly in the doorway.

In the dim light beyond the doorway stood Spencer.

He was drenched from head to toe, his disheveled hair plastered to his forehead.

After 14 years of being coddled in luxury, this was probably the first time Spencer had ever found himself in such a sorry state.

To my father, Spencer was still that eight-year-old boy.

He stared at the tall figure in the doorway, stunned for a moment before suddenly realizing who it was. "Oh! Spencer, it's you. Come on in!"

Spencer was about to step inside.

I stepped forward, blocking his way in the doorway. Looking Spencer straight in the eye, I demanded, "Who told you to come here?"

Spencer's foot, already over the threshold, jerked back abruptly.

Rainwater streamed down his face, dripping from his jawline onto the ground. His pale features betrayed deep discomfort and embarrassment.

He looked so pitiful, appearing to have traveled all this way alone through the storm.

But I noticed the headlights outside the front yard behind him. They were briefly lit, then quickly switched off.

He was never one to back down.

After a long, awkward silence, Spencer finally mumbled, "I... just came to see Granddad."

Even at a moment like this, he still wouldn't greet me or say a single kind word.

I glanced sideways at my father. "Dad, it's late. Why don't you get some rest first? I need to talk to Spencer alone."

I'd been living here on my own for three months.

Though I never spelled it out, my father had probably already guessed it.

With a sigh, he turned and hurried back into the kitchen, quickly prepared a wrapped sandwich, and stuffed it into Spencer's arms.

Having done all that, he finally left and went upstairs.

Just the two of us were left. I finally spoke up. "I'm sure you already know that your dad and I are getting a divorce."

Spencer kept his head down, avoiding my gaze.

He'd inherited Caleb's entrepreneurial spirit, always decisive and swift in both speech and action.

He murmured, "Not yet."

I explained, "I've already started the paperwork. The outcome isn't going to change."

As if struggling to contain his emotions, Spencer's hand curled into a trembling fist in the dim light.

After what felt like an eternity, he abruptly raised his gaze, a hint of defeat flashing in his eyes.

For a fleeting moment, his expression mirrored that of the little boy from years ago—the one who would rush to me, his face full of wounded grievance.

His voice carried a barely detectable trace of panic as he said, "Even after the divorce, you still have a legal obligation to support me."