Chapter 3
Chapter 3 Yolanda Chooses The Other
Teresa didn’t mean to watch, but force of habit made her tap the video. There was just one photo of Charles crouching before Naomi Yates. Underneath it read, [Had some wine, caught a chill. Called and you came. Having you here means everything.]
Teresa’s chest tightened at the image. ‘If they’re so in love, maybe I should step aside. Just give me my daughter and my fair share of the assets in the divorce. That’s all I need.’ She pocketed her phone and walked into the living room.
Sharon Miller, the long-time housekeeper at Joyacre Villa, looked up in surprise when Teresa entered. “Mrs. Logan,” she said after a brief hesitation, “Miss Yolanda’s in her playroom upstairs with those Barbies she loves so much.”
Sharon barely finished speaking when Yolanda’s excited voice rang out from above, “Mommy?” Teresa’s heart ached. It had been weeks since she held her daughter. She dashed upstairs, scooping Yolanda into her arms and sinking to her knees to cover Yolanda’s face with kisses.
When Teresa finally drew back to speak, she saw Yolanda furiously rubbing her face. The sight choked Teresa’s words before they could form. Tears welled as she stared at her daughter, her heart in turmoil.
“Mommy, you’re just in time,” Yolanda blurted out before Teresa could speak. “I was gonna call you. For kindergarten, I want East Street Preschool.” Her whole face lit up at the words.
Teresa didn’t understand why, but seeing Yolanda so excited, she couldn’t say no. After all, it was only kindergarten. They could change schools later if needed. “Okay,” she smiled, “East Street Preschool then.” Yolanda immediately started jumping up and down with delight.
Teresa watched Yolanda’s joyful face, her own words suddenly stuck in her throat. Unconsciously, her hand drifted to her belly. Then, meeting Yolanda’s eyes, she asked quietly, “Sweetheart, would you want a baby brother or sister?”
Yolanda shifted impatiently from foot to foot, clearly wanting to go back to her room, but she paused to consider the question. After a moment, she nodded decisively. “Okay,” she said, “then I want a brother.”
A sharp pain shot through Teresa’s heart. With teary eyes, she asked, “What if Mommy is scared?” Though the physical danger was gone, her hands still trembled as she remembered those terrifying hours after Yolanda’s birth. The blood, the rushing doctors, the fear she might never hold her baby.
Yolanda tilted her head, studying Teresa’s worried face with surprising seriousness. “Then don’t be selfish, Mommy,” she said. “You weren’t scared to have me, right?”
Teresa went completely still, her face turning pale as if struck by lightning. She stood frozen for what felt like ages, lips trembling before she managed to whisper, “Don’t you care if you lose Mommy forever?”
For four long years, Teresa had shouldered every parenting duty by herself, waking for midnight feedings, singing soft lullabies, tending to every cry and need. In all that time, she couldn’t remember a single uninterrupted night’s sleep. Now, after all that sacrifice, she just wondered if her little girl still loved her.
Yolanda’s nose scrunched in annoyance. “I’m sleepy now,” she declared. Before Teresa could react, Yolanda had scampered off, her bedroom door slamming shut. Left alone on the stairs, Teresa stood frozen, a hollow chill spreading through her chest.
Soon, Yolanda’s excited voice drifted from the bedroom. “Miss Naomi, I’m going to East Street Preschool! You can pick me up after work. It’s right near your office. And no babies for you and Daddy, okay? Mommy says it’s dangerous. She has done it before with me, so she can do it again. I really miss your bedtime stories and your hugs.”
Teresa stood outside the bedroom door, her chest aching as she remembered how Yolanda had wiped away her kisses earlier. She had believed that no matter what happened with Charles, her daughter would always be hers. Yet now Yolanda was pushing her away too, just like what her father had done.
Teresa finally realized all her sacrifices and efforts were nothing but a joke. No one cared about what she had endured. Moving like a sleepwalker, she made her way downstairs. Sharon reached out when she saw Teresa’s hollow expression, but got only a silent wave in reply.
As soon as Teresa stepped out of Joyacre Villa, she pulled out her phone and called Charles. Ring after ring went unanswered. Usually she would hang up after a few tries, but tonight she kept hitting redial like a madwoman. When Charles finally answered, his voice was clipped, “I’m busy. If this is important—”
Charles hadn’t finished speaking when Teresa’s voice cut in, sharp as glass shards, “Meet me. Now.” The calm demand erupted into raw screams. Charles’s face darkened at her outburst.
When Teresa finally calmed down, Charles replied in an icy tone, “Whatever it is, we’ll talk next month.” The line went dead before Teresa could respond, leaving her clutching the silent phone.
This was classic Charles, cutting her off, leaving her screaming into the void. Five years of this had hollowed her out. Divorce was the only way.
But she would fight tooth and nail for Yolanda. Even if Yolanda seemed to favor Naomi now, those countless nights soothing a fussy baby still meant something. That bond couldn’t be broken so easily.
Teresa had just made up her mind when a Rolls Royce came to a sudden stop at the villa gates. Through the windshield, she saw Charles behind the wheel and Naomi Yates sitting beside him, a bouquet of flowers in her hands.
Charles met Teresa’s gaze through the glass, the air between them thick with silence. In the past, Teresa was too afraid to confront Naomi’s presence. Now, she couldn’t even bring herself to care.
After an agonizing silence, Charles finally stepped out of the car. Ignoring Teresa completely, he moved to open the door for Naomi. But Teresa called out sharply, “Charles. We need to talk.”
Charles kept moving, his hand already on the door handle. Teresa seized his wrist and forced it down. “Sleep with every woman in this city if you want,” she spat through clenched teeth, “but that mistress of yours stays away from my daughter.”
At last, Charles looked at her. His gaze was cold, his voice low and dismissive, “Naomi would make a better mother than you.” With that, he pushed past her and opened the car door.
Teresa stood rooted to the spot, the cruel meaning dawning on her. ‘Did he just say Naomi should be Yolanda’s mother?’