"One splash. One red stain. And my life just got complicated again."
Working at the event center wasn't glamorous—it was survival. Four years had passed since that night that changed everything. Four years of juggling tipsy nights that no longer existed, and mornings filled with bills, chores, and keeping Adrien's mischievous grin alive. He was almost four now, his blue eyes wide, sparkling, full of life and chaos.
"Mommy, can I go play?" Adrien tugged at my skirt, his tiny bowtie crooked, cheeks flushed with excitement.
"Stay close, Adrien. No running around, okay?" I whispered, kneeling to adjust his tie. "Behave for Mommy."
He nodded, though I already knew that look—the twinkle that meant trouble. My heart both swelled and sank. That little boy was everything, yet chaos followed him like shadows.
The ballroom glittered with wealth. Women shimmered in diamonds, men laughed with champagne in hand. A piano played something soft, expensive. I smiled politely at a guest while Adrien crouched near the snack table, pretending to behave.
And then it happened.
A splash. A gasp.
My heart jumped. I froze, tray in hand, eyes scanning the floor. A small red juice bottle rolled across the marble like a crimson comet. And there, my little whirlwind stood, clutching an empty cup, his big blue eyes wide with panic.
The woman he bumped into—a vision of blonde elegance—stared down at her ruined white gown. Red juice spread like fire over silk.
"You stupid—how dare you?!" she snapped. Her voice cut through the music, sharp and commanding.
Adrien's lip trembled. "Soweeee," he said softly, blue eyes glistening, looking up at the lady with a mix of fear and innocence that made my chest ache.
"You disgusting little thing," the woman hissed. "Who owns this irresponsible monkey?"
I didn't think. I bolted forward. "I'm so sorry, ma'am! He's just a child, please—"
And then I stopped.
Her eyes. Forest green. Sharp. Deep. Familiar. My heart skipped.
Her hair—blonde waves, polished, styled. A face that made my stomach twist. But somehow, I recognized myself there. Not in color, but in the sharpness, the fire, the way those eyes could cut through nonsense.
"You own this brat?" she demanded, scanning me from head to toe. "You should've taught him manners before letting him loose!"
"Kendella," another woman interjected, elegant but slightly older, black hair swept into a neat bun, forest green eyes glinting like mine. Her hand rested gently on Kendella's arm. "He apologised. He's just a sweet, innocent boy. Let it go."
Time stilled.
My eyes met hers. A chill ran down my spine. Shock, disbelief, recognition—I didn't understand it yet, but I knew this woman had a story I wasn't ready for. We gasped in tandem, silent acknowledgment in our shared stare.
Kendella yanked her arm free. "You're defending her, mother? This woman—and her wild child—ruined my dress!"
I clenched my jaw, Adrien's tiny hand clutched mine tightly. "My son and I already apologised," I said, voice calm but firm despite shaking hands. "It was a mistake. That doesn't give you the right to insult him. I won't take it."
Her expression twisted with rage. She raised a hand. I grabbed it. Firm. Steady. Silence fell over the crowd. Gasps, whispers. Someone dropped a glass.
The older woman—the elegant observer—smiled faintly, a strange pride flickering in her eyes. I didn't understand why, but it stung with recognition.
My manager came running, red-faced, panic spilling off him. "Aurielle! What the hell is going on here? You're jeopardising the entire event!"
I didn't wait. I already knew what he would do—spineless, idiot,always worried about the account, the appearance, the money, never the reality of human decency.
"You're fir—" he began.
"I quit," I interrupted, unclipping the cheap plastic name tag from around my neck and pressing it into his palm. "I don't work where people treat children like dirt."
Adrien's small fingers wrapped around mine, trusting, innocent. "Mommy… did I do bad?"
"No, baby," I whispered, throat tight. "You were perfect."
I stepped past the stunned guests, out through the glass doors, pulling Adrien with me. Behind me, eyes lingered. Curiosity. Judgment. Recognition. Something more I couldn't place.
I pushed open the apartment door, the familiar scent of home hitting me—stale coffee, laundry detergent, and Adrien's tiny socks scattered across the floor. I barely had time to drop my bag before a voice called out.
"You're home early. Trouble in paradise?"
Jason—my best friend, messy blonde hair falling into his eyes, his trademark smirk in place—leaned casually against the wall. In his hand, a single envelope gleamed under the dim light.
"What's that?" I asked, suspicion and curiosity twisting my stomach.
"Something I think you'll want," he said, stepping forward.
Adrien didn't wait for me. "Uncle Jason!" My little whirlwind sprinted across the floor, wrapping his tiny arms around Jason's legs. Jason laughed, ruffling Adrien's hair like he'd done a hundred times before.
I snatched the envelope from Jason, tearing it open.
D'Angelo Company. Assistant position.
The words hit me like a punch. D'Angelo Company—the biggest company in America, one of the biggest in the world. My chest stuttered. My hands shook.
"You… how… where did you even get this?" I stammered, disbelief thick in my throat.
Jason shrugged, smooth, confident. "Let's just say I know things. Timing's everything, right?"
I stared at the bold logo, the slip trembling in my hands. Tomorrow… everything could change.