Blanche's POV
I didn't plan to watch, but muscle memory made me tap the video. A single photo filled the screen—Zain kneeling in front of Joanna Vins.
The caption read: *Had some wine, caught a chill. Called and you came. Having you here means everything.*
My chest constricted at the sight. If they're so madly in love, maybe I should just walk away. Give me my daughter and whatever's fair from the divorce. That's all I want. I shoved the phone back in my pocket and headed for the living room.
Heidi Irvin, who'd been keeping house at Blissfield Villa for years, glanced up with surprise when I walked in.
"Mrs. Jacob," she said, hesitating slightly, "Miss Carry's upstairs in her playroom with those Barbies she adores."
Before Heidi could finish, Carry's thrilled voice echoed from above. "Mommy?"
My heart clenched. Weeks had passed since I'd last held my little girl. I bolted upstairs, sweeping Carry into my arms and dropping to my knees, peppering her face with kisses.
When I finally pulled back to say something, I watched Carry scrub at her face furiously. The gesture killed my words before they could escape.
Tears burned my eyes as I stared at my daughter, my heart churning.
"Mommy, perfect timing," Carry burst out before I could speak. "I was about to call you. For kindergarten, I want East Street Preschool." Her entire face glowed with excitement.
I couldn't grasp why, but seeing Carry so thrilled, I couldn't refuse. It was just kindergarten, after all. We could switch schools later if necessary. "Alright," I smiled, "East Street Preschool it is." Carry immediately began bouncing with pure joy.
I watched my daughter's radiant expression, my own words suddenly trapped in my throat. Without thinking, my hand moved to my stomach. Then, catching Carry's gaze, I asked softly, "Baby, would you like a little brother or sister?"
Carry fidgeted restlessly, obviously eager to return to her room, but she stopped to think about my question. After a beat, she nodded firmly. "Sure," she said, "then I want a brother."
A knife twisted in my chest. With watery eyes, I asked, "What if Mommy gets scared?"
The physical threat had passed, but my hands still shook remembering those horrifying hours after Carry's birth. The bleeding, the panicked doctors, the terror that I might never get to hold my baby.
Carry cocked her head, examining my anxious face with unexpected gravity. "Then don't be selfish, Mommy," she said. "You weren't scared to have me, were you?"
I went completely rigid, my face draining of color like I'd been slapped. I remained motionless for what seemed like forever, lips quivering before I managed to breathe, "Don't you worry about losing Mommy forever?"
For four endless years, I'd handled every parenting responsibility alone—midnight feedings, gentle lullabies, answering every whimper and demand. Through all that time, I couldn't recall a single full night's rest. Now, after all that devotion, I just needed to know if my little girl still loved me.
Carry's face twisted with irritation. "I'm tired now," she announced. Before I could respond, Carry had darted away, her bedroom door banging shut. Alone on the stairs, I stood paralyzed, an empty coldness creeping through my ribs.
Within moments, Carry's animated voice floated from the bedroom. "Miss Joanna, I'm going to East Street Preschool! You can come get me after work. It's super close to your office. And no babies for you and Daddy, okay? Mommy says it's risky. She's done it before with me, so she can do it again. I really miss your bedtime stories and your cuddles."
I stood outside the bedroom door, my chest burning as I recalled how Carry had scrubbed away my kisses moments ago. I'd assumed that whatever happened with Zain, my daughter would always belong to me. But now Carry was rejecting me too, just like her father had done.
I finally understood all my sacrifices and struggles were nothing but a cruel joke. Nobody gave a damn about what I'd survived. Moving like I was in a trance, I drifted downstairs. Heidi extended her hand when she saw my empty expression, but received only a wordless wave in return.
The second I left Blissfield Villa, I yanked out my phone and dialed Zain. Ring after ring went ignored. Normally I'd give up after several attempts, but tonight I kept hitting redial like I'd lost my mind. When Zain finally picked up, his voice was sharp, "I'm busy. If this matters—"
Zain hadn't finished when my voice sliced through, brutal as broken glass, "Meet me. Right now."
The controlled demand exploded into wild shrieks.
Zain's expression hardened at my meltdown.
When I finally steadied myself, Zain responded in a glacial tone, "Whatever this is, we'll discuss it next month."
The call ended before I could answer, leaving me gripping the dead phone.
This was typical Zain—shutting me down, abandoning me to yell at nothing. Five years of this had drained me completely. Divorce was my only option.
But I'd battle fiercely for Carry. Even if Carry seemed to prefer Joanna now, those endless nights calming a cranky infant still mattered. That connection couldn't be severed so simply.
I'd just steeled my resolve when a Rolls Royce screeched to a halt at the villa entrance.
Through the windshield, I spotted Zain at the wheel with Joanna Vins beside him, a flower arrangement cradled in her arms.
Zain locked eyes with me through the glass, the space between us heavy with silence. Before, I was too terrified to challenge Joanna's presence. Now, I couldn't even summon the energy to care.
After an excruciating pause, Zain finally emerged from the car. Completely ignoring me, he moved to open Joanna's door. But I snapped sharply, "Zain. We need to talk."
Zain continued moving, his hand already gripping the door handle. I grabbed his wrist and yanked it away. "Screw every woman in this city if you want," I hissed through gritted teeth, "but that mistress of yours keeps her hands off my daughter."
Finally, Zain looked at me. His stare was arctic, his voice low and contemptuous, "Joanna would be a better mother than you." With that, he shoved past me and opened the car door.
I stood frozen in place, the vicious implication sinking in. Did he just suggest Joanna should be Carry's mother?