I hopped into my car, pulling away from my home and heading straight for Blossom Valley Elementary School, a prestigious institution housing both elementary and middle school students. My son, Probert, was a second-grader there.
Due to my health issues, Probert had been staying with the Dawson family, cared for by his grandmother. It had been quite a while since I had last seen him.
Arriving at the school, it was still a bit early, so I parked a little further away and sat in the car, watching the school entrance.
As the first-graders began to trickle out, I sat up straight, eyes glued to the school gate, scanning the parents picking up their children for any sign of Marissa.
I hadn't seen her for years. Looking back, I realized how naive I had been, underestimating human greed and placing too much trust in Jaylan and Marissa.
In retrospect, my decision to ask for her help in managing Jaylan before I left was foolish to the extreme! Betrayal of this kind was more painful than physical torture. The fury it stoked could obliterate everything.
Reluctantly, I had to admit, times have changed, and people along with it.
Finally, I spotted her among the crowd. A canary yellow knit dress hugged her curvaceous figure, a brown scarf draped around her neck, and a matching Hermes bag hung from her arm.
Her wavy hair was pulled back in a ponytail, accentuating her refined elegance. Her face was not particularly striking, but the yellow dress brought out a certain charm and allure.
She looked every bit the wealthy housewife.
Instinctively, I glanced at my reflection in the rear-view mirror. My short, faded hair, and my dull skin. This was an improvement from when I had just woken up from my illness, when I looked more like a corpse than a living being.
My hands clenched the steering wheel, a fire of rage burning brighter within me.
What was even more unbearable was the plump woman standing next to Marissa. It was my mother-in-law, Jaylan's mother, Hazel Garry Dawson. They seemed quite familiar with each other, chatting away happily.
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