Chapter 9

When Serena came to pick up Ollie, he was standing pitifully at the kindergarten gate, head drooping.

Seeing that familiar car, Ollie's eyes lit up instantly.

The door opened. Serena stepped out, smiling and waving at him. "Ollie!"

Ollie broke into a run and threw his arms around her leg. "Serena!"

Serena patted his head and crouched down. "Were you good at kindergarten today?"

Ollie nodded vigorously, a smile returning to his little face.

Serena produced a box of imported chocolates like magic. Ollie's eyes sparkled. "Thank you, Serena!"

Holding Serena's hand, Ollie skipped toward the car, completely forgetting the little boy's earlier words—"I think your mommy is really nice."

Serena was the best. She came to pick him up and brought him chocolate.

That night, Ollie lay in bed, eyes closed, trying to sleep.

Around midnight, he suddenly began twisting and turning, mumbling incoherently, "Mommy... Mommy..."

Cleo woke and rushed over. Ollie was drenched in sweat, his little face scrunched up as if frightened by something.

"Mommy! Don't go! Mommy!"

He shot upright and burst into tears.

Cleo quickly held him. "Ollie, don't be scared. I'm here."

Ollie sobbed uncontrollably, pushing Cleo away and trying to run out. "I want Mommy! I want Mommy!"

Cleo couldn't stop him. She watched helplessly as he ran barefoot out of the room, charging to Theodric's bedroom door, pounding on it. "Daddy! I want Mommy! I want Mommy!"

Theodric opened the door to find Ollie standing barefoot on the floor, face soaked with tears. He frowned. "What are you making a fuss about in the middle of the night?"

Ollie threw his arms around his leg, crying his heart out. "I want Mommy! I dreamed Mommy didn't want me anymore! Daddy, make Mommy come back!"

Theodric's frown deepened. After a few seconds of silence, he pulled out his phone, found Camilla's number, and dialed.

"The number you have dialed is switched off."

He froze, then tried again.

Still off.

Had she blocked him?

Theodric's expression darkened.

He looked at Cleo. "You call her."

Cleo pulled out her phone and dialed. This time it went through. After a few rings, someone answered—but it wasn't Camilla's voice. Instead, deafening music blared through the line, painful to the ears.

"Hello?"

Cleo asked carefully, "Mrs. Clifford, it's me, Cleo. Ollie had a nightmare and he's crying for you. Could you possibly—"

Before she could finish, Camilla's voice came through, fragmented, as if buried under layers of noise.

"...Cleo? What did you say? I can't hear you... Niamh, slow down! This bar is too loud... Hold on, let me find somewhere quieter..."

Footsteps followed. The chaotic music gradually faded.

"Cleo?" Camilla's voice came through clearer now. "What's wrong?"

Cleo quickly finished. "Mrs. Clifford, Ollie had a nightmare and he's crying for you. Could you come back and see him?"

Silence on the other end.

Then Camilla's voice returned, calm as ever. "Cleo, from now on, if he cries, go to Theodric. I have nothing to do with him anymore."

"But—"

"Okay, I'm hanging up now."

The line went dead. Cleo stared at her phone blankly, unsure what to say.

Theodric had heard every word clearly.

A bar?

Camilla was at a bar?

His first thought: That kind of place is full of all sorts of people. Does she, a housewife, even know what kind of crowd hangs out there?

She's a mother, for crying out loud. Does she think she's still some young girl looking for thrills? The words reached the tip of his tongue before he froze. Where she went—what did it have to do with him? They'd already finalized the divorce.

Theodric stood there, face dark, for several seconds. Ollie's crying still rang in his ears. He bit down hard, grabbed his car keys, and headed downstairs.

Neon Nights Bar.

Lights flashed. Music pounded. Camilla sat in a booth, holding a drink, watching the writhing crowd on the dance floor.

Niamh sat beside her, swaying excitedly to the music. "Camilla! This is how it should be! Life's short—live it up!"

Camilla smiled and took a sip. Life really was short. So short she had less than six months left.

She looked at the amber liquid in her glass, her heart strangely calm. In these next six months, she wanted to do everything she'd never done before.

She couldn't drink before—Theodric didn't like the smell of alcohol. She couldn't go to bars before—a Clifford family daughter-in-law had to be dignified.

Before... Forget it. That was all in the past. She tilted her head back and drained the glass.

Niamh clapped. "Yes! Another round!"

Camilla nodded with a laugh. The two chatted and drank, not noticing that from another booth, several gazes had landed on her.

Serena sat there, holding a drink, lips curling into a meaningful smile.

A friend leaned in, lowering her voice. "Serena, isn't that Theodric's ex-wife?"

Serena said nothing.

Another friend laughed. "I heard she was a housewife for years. Never showed up at places like this. Why'd she decide to come out today?"

"Divorced now, obviously she's out to have fun." A third friend scoffed. "But someone like her? She probably just sits there like an idiot at a bar."

Serena's gaze flickered as she watched Camilla.

She set down her glass and pulled a small packet from her purse, handing it to the friend beside her.

"Go. Send that lady a drink. Say... someone's treating her."

The short-haired woman took it, excitement flashing in her eyes. She stood and headed to the bar.

Serena leaned back in the booth, lifted her glass, and sipped slowly.

At the bar, the short-haired woman exchanged a few words with the bartender. He nodded and began mixing the drink.

Once the drink was ready, she waited until the bartender turned away, then dumped the powder from the packet into the glass.

It dissolved instantly, leaving no trace.

She carried the drink toward Camilla's booth. "Miss."

Camilla looked up. A young woman stood before her, holding a drink and smiling as she offered it. "A guest over there sent this for you."

Camilla followed the gesture. The lighting was too dim to make out who it was. She looked back at the drink.

The liquid was a beautiful amber, a lemon slice perched on the rim. "Who sent it?"

The young woman smiled. "You'll know once you drink it."

She set the glass on the table and left. Camilla stared at the drink but didn't touch it.

"Camilla, don't drink it." Niamh was on alert. "Never drink from strangers at a bar."

Camilla said nothing. She knew the rules, but what did she have to be afraid of now? She was running out of time anyway.

"It's fine, Niamh. You're here with me." With that, Camilla reached out and lifted the glass to her lips.

Just then—

"Camilla!"

A deep voice came from behind.

Camilla's hand froze. Before she could react, a hand reached over and snatched the drink away.

She looked up. Theodric stood before her, his face dark as a storm.