But I didn't want to be the reason their relationship soured. So I started going to the mansion disguised as a servant to prepare her meals.
Somewhere along the way, Joel got used to me playing the maid.
He also got used to dangling visits with my son as a reward whenever he needed to make something up to me.
I clutched the uniform, my son's blurry face flickering through my mind.
Before I leave, let me memorize every detail of him.
Joel drove me to the mansion himself.
We'd barely reached the parking garage when a honeyed voice called out.
I watched Joel's spine go rigid. Then he turned toward Kay Pruitt.
She stood there in a flowing dress, a gift box dangling from her fingers.
"Boss, this is the toy John Gilbertny wanted last time. I'll drop it off for him."
Her eyes swept over me, lingering, before she let out a little laugh. Her gaze traced the servant's uniform I was wearing.
"Mrs. Gilbert, why are you dressed like that to visit the mansion? I almost thought you were some new housekeeper Joel hired."
In the past, seeing Kay hovering around Joel would have sent me into a spiral—crying, clinging, desperate for reassurance.
And every time, Joel would turn cold and snap at me, calling me a hysterical shrew.
After I'd scratched Kay's arm once, he'd banned me from seeing my son for three straight years. Took the boy to Bali with her instead.
I wasn't about to stir up trouble before I left. Quietly, I gave up the front seat.
When we arrived at the mansion, Joel came around to open my door.
He pressed a gentle kiss to my forehead.
"Kay doesn't know her place sometimes. Don't take what she says to heart."
I nodded and slipped into the kitchen through the side door.
My heart pounded with a fragile hope—maybe Joel still had some real feelings for me after all.
I glanced back, only to see him guide Kay inside with his hand resting tenderly on the small of her back.
The housekeeper bowed respectfully. "Welcome home, Mr. Gilbert, Mrs. Gilbert."
My nails dug into my palms until they stung. I turned away with a quiet, bitter laugh.
The kitchen was overflowing with ingredients—preparing everything would be exhausting. But thinking of the way Johnny's face lit up whenever he ate something he loved, what did a little exhaustion matter?
Then I heard it—a bright, cheerful voice calling out, "Mama!"
My eyes burned. My vision blurred.