Waking up with my nemesis baby novel Chapter 22

Kirsten froze, her hands stilling on the flowers, her expression

one of stunned confusion.

“Mrs. Livingston, did you forget? Dr. Clark is Mr. Kevin’s

therapist.”

Madeleine’s breath caught, her mind racing.

Her anxiety spiked, and she pressed for details.

Kirsten, though puzzled by Madeleine’s reaction, explained

everything.

As the words sank in, Madeleine’s face drained of color.

Kevin’s nightmare two nights ago wasn’t just a bad dream–it was tied to psychological issues.

Beyond that, he struggled with deep insecurities, trust issues, and…

“You’re saying Kev… hurt himself to get attention?”

Madeleine’s voice trembled, barely above a whisper.

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Kirsten sighed, her eyes soft with sympathy.

“Yes. It broke Mr. Livingston’s heart.

“He was overseas on business, but he chartered a plane to get

back that same night. Thankfully, Mr. Kevin was okay.”

Madeleine’s lips quivered, words failing her for a long moment

before she managed to choke out, “And me? What was I

doing?”

“Well…”

Kirsten hesitated, her expression uneasy. She glanced at

Madeleine, reluctant to answer.

“It’s okay, just tell me,” Madeleine urged, bracing herself.

Kirsten sighed again, her voice low. “You said Mr. Carroll from

the Carroll Group had a cold. You went to deliver medicine, so

you weren’t home.”

Madeleine’s heart plummeted, a wave of guilt crashing over her

like a cold tide.

Those choices weren’t made by the eighteen–year–old her, but

the weight of them–her role as Kevin’s mother–pressed heavily

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on her now, filling her with aching regret.

She took a deep breath, steadying herself.

The past was done, unchangeable. All she could do now was

make up for the pain she’d caused.

“Thanks, Kirsten,” she said softly. “Could you whip up

something to eat?”

Kirsten blinked, thrown by Madeleine’s gratitude. “Oh! Sure, give

me a moment.”

She headed to the kitchen, still puzzled, while Madeleine’s heart

churned with bittersweet emotions.

Food was the last thing on her mind, but she sat down to eat

anyway.

Kirsten was a wonderful cook. She prepared two delicious

dishes and even a small dessert.

Madeleine had been raised to believe that eating food prepared

by others with sincerity was a form of respect.

As she savored Kirsten’s dishes, she showered her with praise,

leaving Kirsten flustered and blushing.

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After lunch, Kirsten slipped away to chat with Meagan Velez,

who was in charge of cleaning. Their conversation turned to

Madeleine’s odd behavior.

“Meagan, do you think Mrs. Livingston’s planning to fire me?”

Kirsten fretted.

Meagan clicked her tongue. “Could be. You know how she is-

unpredictable. If she’s acting this weird, you probably ticked her

off somehow.”

Kirsten’s face drained of color. She regretted every word she

had said earlier.

Meagan patted her arm. “Don’t stress. Mr. Livingston’s the one

who calls the shots. Just be extra careful for a bit; don’t ruffle

her feathers.”

Kirsten sighed. “Guess that’s all I can do.”

Madeleine, completely unaware that her staff was secretly

painting her as a tyrant, was debating whether to check in on

Kevin’s session. Suddenly, her phone buzzed with a WhatsApp

message.

It was from someone labeled “Mary.” Madeleine drew a blank- she had no memory of this person. The message included a

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photo and a note.

The note read, “Maddie, got that perfume you asked me to

grab. Your hubby’s gonna love this one. When are you swinging

by to pick it up?”

The tone suggested a friend, but Madeleine couldn’t remember

anything about her.

She checked their chat history, only to find it wiped clean.

Curious, she tapped into Mary’s Instagram.

“Holy…” Madeleine yelped, nearly jumping out of her skin.

This “Mary” was none other than the flashy, nouveau–riche girl

she’d despised back in the day.

She couldn’t figure it out. How on earth had they become

friends?

Back in her sophomore year of high school, a girl named Mary

Sampson transferred to Madeleine’s school.

The details of Mary were fuzzy in Madeleine’s mind, but one

memory stood out vividly: the day Mary strutted into class, she

was dripping in designer labels. Her neck, ears, and wrists sparkled with gaudy jewelry.

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She reeked of new money, the kind that screamed for attention and made people cringe. Worse, she was a bully, leading the charge against classmates with a cruel edge.

When SATS loomed, Mary’s grades were abysmal, so she pivoted to art. It didn’t help–she flunked her way out of art school and wasn’t accepted to a single university.

Madeleine vaguely recalled hearing she’d gone abroad to study.

Never in a million years did Madeleine expect to find herself, in

her twenties, calling this girl a friend.

Sitting there, arms crossed, curiosity gnawed at her. She had to

know more, so she decided to meet Mary in person.

She typed out a quick message, “Can I swing by now?”

Mary replied instantly, “Totally! How about this place? I’m

craving their food so bad.”