"The fly was hidden in the blueberry jam. She's too stupid to notice."
The words had barely left her mouth before I appeared in the doorway.
Father and daughter exchanged a quick glance.
Clara was the first to move, grabbing the blueberry cake and running toward me.
"Mommy, Clara picked out your favorite blueberry cake just for you! I'm sorry I threw away the hair clip you bought me. Daddy already scolded me. Can you forgive me?"
The girl hung her head, but her eyes were sneaking furtive glances up at me.
Sharp little eyes. Testing the waters.
It wasn't like I'd never had doubts. She looked nothing like me, and nothing like Toby either.
And it wasn't just her appearance. Her preferences, her allergies.
Everything was the polar opposite of mine.
Now I knew who she took after.
Those eyes, barely able to contain their eagerness to watch me eat the tampered cake.
They were identical to the ones I'd seen on my phone screen ten minutes ago. Mildred's eyes.
I crouched down. She was only five, after all. When she saw me reaching for the cake, she couldn't keep the mischief off her face anymore. She even pulled out a spoon, popped open the box, and scooped a generous piece from the corner with the most blueberry jam, holding it right up to my lips.
"Mommy, let Clara feed you. Eat up!"
I leaned in. Smiled.
Then I flipped the cake over right in front of her, smashing it onto her favorite white patent shoes.
The girl froze for two full seconds before erupting into a wail. "You ruined the cake I worked so hard on! You ugly freak! You big fat pig! Clara's mommy is definitely not going to be happy with me now—"
Toby lunged forward and clamped a hand over her mouth. The guilt in his eyes lasted barely a second before he wheeled on me. "Have you lost your mind, Louisa? Your daughter picked this cake out especially for you! If you're angry, take it out on me. Why are you bullying a child?"
I stared at the dead fly stuck in the blueberry jam and let out a cold, mocking laugh. "A cake with a dead fly hidden inside. That really is special."
I didn't bother looking at the frozen expressions on their faces.
I stepped over the mess on the floor and walked into the study alone.
The next morning, Toby had a full breakfast spread laid out on the table.
When he saw me come out, he shot Clara a look.
She immediately latched onto the hem of my shirt, eyes brimming with pitiful tears.
"Mommy, I'm sorry. Clara was wrong yesterday. Please don't be mad. Please don't ignore me, okay?"
Before all this, seeing her like that would have shattered every wall I had. She wouldn't have even needed to ask. I'd have melted on the spot and handed her the whole world on a silver platter.
But now, staring at that face overlapping with Mildred's, all I could think about was the child I had never once laid eyes on.
Was she cold? Was she hungry?
Was she even… alive?
My nails dug into my palms. I clenched my fists so tight the knuckles went white. Something inside me was burning, a fire that seared through every nerve, every organ, agony so deep it threatened to split me apart. But I couldn't scream.
My child was still out there.
I couldn't afford to fall apart. Not yet.
I drew a slow breath, reached out, and ruffled Clara's hair.
"It's okay. Mommy forgives you."
Seeing my expression soften, Toby exhaled in visible relief and pulled out my chair with exaggerated attentiveness.
"I knew it. You talk tough, but you're soft as butter inside. You nearly died bringing her into this world. No way you'd stay mad at her for real."
I said nothing. I lowered my head and took a sip of oatmeal.
"Oh, by the way, babe. Clara's preschool is organizing a study trip to Austin tomorrow. I figured I'd tag along and spend a few days with her. The family credit card's running low. Can you transfer another thirty thousand into it?"
I looked up. My gaze settled on him.
When I first met Toby Simmons, he was an orphan riding a beat-up secondhand scooter, delivering food for a living, sleeping in a three-hundred-dollar-a-month apartment with a leaking ceiling.
