Chapter 1

Tags: estranged parent and child, favoring the ex-lover, derelict father, post-divorce face-slap

I took a half-day off work for my son's parent-teacher conference.

When I arrived at the school gates, Nathan's car was already parked there.

His long-time flame stepped out from the passenger seat, holding my son's hand as they walked inside together.

I dialed Nathan's number, but my son answered.

"The teacher asked for parents. If you're not busy, just go back to work. Don't come here and embarrass me."

I stood by the school gates for two hours.

When they came out, my son was clutching a pair of sneakers his father's flame had bought him, grinning from ear to ear.

As he brushed past me, he slapped the iced latte I held out right onto the ground.

"I told you not to come. Can't you understand plain English?"

Nathan glanced at me, then guided our son into the car.

The woman slid into the passenger seat, turning back to flash me a gentle smile.

I crouched down on the curb, wiping up the spilled milk.

My phone chimed with an email from the school board:

"Ms. Vance, the naming confirmation letter for the new academic building donation has been sent. Please sign it this week."

The iced latte splattered across the pavement, ice cubes scattering everywhere.

As I knelt down to wipe it up, my knee scraped against the concrete curb, sending a dull ache shooting through my leg.

Parents were coming and going around the entrance. A few recognized me, quickly averting their eyes and steering around.

Nathan's car hadn't gone far. In his rearview mirror, he could clearly see me kneeling on the curb.

The car didn't stop.

It turned the corner, accelerated, and vanished.

The passenger window had rolled down for a brief second. I caught Chloe smiling back at me. It wasn't an open sneer—it was that patronizing, pitying sort of sweetness.

Far more sickening than mockery.

My phone buzzed again with a reminder for that email.

"Ms. Vance, the naming confirmation letter for the new academic building donation has been sent. Please sign it this week."

Staring at "Ms. Vance" on the screen, an absurd wave of irony washed over me.

Over the past six years, from the education endowment to library renovations, from scholarship funds to this brand-new academic building, I had anonymously poured twenty-three million dollars into this private school.

And just moments ago, my son had knocked the drink from my hand, telling me not to come and embarrass him.

Before I could finish mopping up the puddle, Leo's homeroom teacher, Ms. Lee, hurried out of the gates and nearly tripped over me.

"Oh, excuse me... Mrs. Hayes?"

She recognized me, her expression instantly tightening with awkwardness.

"At the conference just now, Mr. Hayes came with Ms. Hall. I assumed you two..."

She trailed off, but the implication was clear.

She had assumed Chloe was Leo's mother.

"Ms. Lee, how has Leo been doing in school lately?"

She hesitated, lowering her voice.

"Mrs. Hayes, it's not my place to pry, but Leo has changed a lot recently. He doesn't pay attention in class and rarely turns in homework. Last week he got into a fight with a classmate. When I called Mr. Hayes, Ms. Hall answered. She promised she would handle it."

"Did she?"

"Ms. Hall sent the boy Leo hit a pair of limited-edition sneakers."

I got to my feet, brushing the dust off my knees.

"If anything happens at school from now on, contact me directly."

Ms. Lee nodded, though she seemed torn about whether to speak further.

"Mrs. Hayes, there's one more thing. Mr. Hayes mentioned at the meeting that he wants to change Leo's primary emergency contact to Chloe Hall. That... requires your personal consent."

A cold gust swept past, making the banners by the gate flap noisily.

Across it read: Warm Congratulations on the Groundbreaking of the New Academic Building.

I stared at the bold letters for a long moment.

"Change it."

"Pardon?"

"If he wants it changed, change it. Emergency contact, parent notifications, after-school coordination—put Chloe Hall down for all of them."

Ms. Lee blinked, completely stunned.

"Mrs. Hayes, that's not quite..."

"Ms. Lee, my son doesn't want me showing up at this school. Neither does his father. So I won't."

I offered a faint smile, turned around, and walked away.

Back in my car, I didn't turn on the ignition right away.

My phone held thirty-seven unread notifications.

The HOA group, the neighborhood chat, the school's parent board, internal emails from Hayes Enterprises.

Not a single word from Nathan.

I tapped open our chat. The last message was from three days ago.

It was mine: "Leo's conference is on Friday. Can you make it?"

He had sent back a single word: "Yeah."

And then he brought Chloe.

I backed out of the chat and pulled up the email from the school board, reading every line thoroughly.

The new building had originally been slated to bear a generic dedication.

I had always donated anonymously; only a handful of senior board members knew my identity.

Now, signing the confirmation letter meant my real name would be etched onto the exterior wall.

The Diana Vance Academic Center.

I closed the email and started the engine.

Driving home, I passed a florist. In the display window sat a bouquet of white daisies—identical to the bridal bouquet I carried down the aisle.

On our wedding day, Nathan had sworn to me, "Diana, in this life, you're the only woman I'll ever marry."

Liar.

When I reached the house, our housekeeper, Martha, was bustling about the kitchen.

"You're back, ma'am! How did Leo's conference go?"

"Fine."

"What would you like for dinner? Leo loves barbecue ribs, so I've already started marinating them."

"Martha, Leo won't be eating here tonight. He's out with his dad."

Her hands paused, but she didn't ask further.

I walked upstairs to my study and locked the door behind me.

In the top desk drawer lay a folder drawn up by my attorney three months ago.

A marital settlement agreement.

The division of assets was laid out with crystal clarity. All premarital holdings under my name—including the Vance Education Foundation left to me by my late father—had zero ties to Nathan.

As for the marital property, I wouldn't take a single dime.

Full custody of our son would go to Nathan.

I skimmed through the pages and slid the file back into the drawer.

Not today.

Soon, though.

My phone rang with a FaceTime call from my mother.

"Diana, how was Leo's parent-teacher conference?"

"It went fine, Mom."

"Good to hear. Did Nathan go?"

"He was there."

"Then nothing to worry about. By the way, your dad's side of the family mentioned wanting to visit Leo next week. They haven't seen him all semester."

"Mom, I have a business trip next week. Let's do it another time."

After hanging up, I collapsed onto the sofa in the study, staring blankly at the ceiling.

This luxury home had been paid for entirely out of my own pocket before we married. The title deed bore only my name.

Yet everyone living under this roof assumed it belonged to Nathan.

Even my son thought so.

Once, Leo had bragged to his friends, "My dad runs Hayes Enterprises. Our house is worth over five million."

He didn't know that the year Hayes Enterprises hovered on the brink of bankruptcy, it was my entire trust fund that saved his father's company.

He had no clue that every single brick and window in this house had been bought with Vance family money.

I had never spoken a word of this to anyone.

Because Nathan had once begged me: "Diana, let's keep private finances between us. A man needs to keep his pride."

I gave him his pride. I gave it to him for twelve long years.

Enough was enough.

I pulled up the school board's email once more and hit reply.

I typed out a single sentence: "Confirmation received. I wish to modify the naming proposal."

Send.