Chapter 34
Chapter 34
Even now, watching Irene scream her lungs out, Stella couldn’t connect this little tornado to the soft, obedient girl she
remembered.
Maybe… the bright, fleeting little spark of joy she’d once had with Irene had disappeared by the moment she had chosen Ernest and Sylvia over her.
What stood before her now was a merciless little mischief-maker, never grateful, never satisfied.
Stella closed her eyes, forcing down the twinge in her chest, trying to cling to the last shreds of sweetness in her memories.
Of course, that only lit the fuse on Irene’s temper.
Stella had refused to make the oatmeal her way-but now, to top it off, she had the audacity to ignore her completely.
‘Hmph,’ thought Irene, ‘Mom isn’t even half as patient as Ms. Jansen. If Ms. Jansen weren’t busy, she could take care of me today!’
Though Sylvia was just out shopping and playing, in Irene’s world, playtime was the busiest business on earth.
“Mom!” Irene’s sharp, piercing voice cut through the room like a whistle.
Stella’s eyes snapped open, her face draining of color.
Irene was on the bed, clutching the heat-protective layer around her oatmeal bowl, clearly about to hurl it at Stella. She didn’t seem to care that the oatmeal inside was scalding hot.
“Irene!” Stella lunged, arms outstretched, ready to catch the bowl. ʀᴇᴀᴅ ʟᴀᴛᴇsᴛ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀᴛ Fio hesitation. No backing down. This was her daughter after all, the one she had fought tooth and nail to bring into the world.
Even if her heart had cooled, her responsibility as a mother wouldn’t let her stand by.
The oatmeal had just come off the stove. One touch to that delicate little skin, and it could leave serious burns.
Crash! The bowl hit the floor, splattering oatmeal everywhere. Steam curled up in clouds around them.
Stella charged in, wincing. Her left hand, exposed, was already turning red.
She ignored the pain, her eyes snapping to Irene. “Are you burned? Any pain anywhere?”
Irene froze for a moment, her wide eyes catching sight of Stella’s reddening hand, then flung her head back and howled, “I didn’t mean it! I didn’t know…”
The scream carried, pulling Betty from the hallway.
Looking at the mess, Betty blinked. “Ms. Spencer, what happened here?”
Pain throbbed through Stella’s hand. She barely glanced at Betty. “Stay here, watch Irene. Clean up the mess first.”
Instructions given, she strode off. Betty glanced between her and the bawling Irene, then started tidying up before trying to calm the little storm.
Half an hour later, in the bathroom, Stella’s burn still stung, but it wasn’t as swollen as before. Splashing water on her hand,
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Chapter 34
she felt a lingering chill of dread.
As a jewelry designer, her hands were her lifeline. Every sketch, every spark of inspiration, relied on them. Thankfully, the burn was small and treated quickly. A dab of ointment and a couple of days’ care, and it’d heal. Anything worse, and her fledgling hope in life might have gone up in smoke.
“Mom…” Irene’s tiny, tentative voice came from the doorway.
Stella looked up. Irene was clinging there, eyes red, tear streaks on her cheeks, looking like a pitiful little bunny.
“What is it?” Stella felt nothing but cold detachment. She gave her a flat look.
After the bowl had flown, Stella had long since stopped trying to sugarcoat anything. Doing her duty was enough.
“Mom, I’m sorry.” For once, Irene’s stubbornness cracked. She lowered her head, voice small. “Betty already taught me I was wrong. I should apologize to you.”
Stella almost laughed. If Betty had really tried, Irene would have screamed and stormed off ages ago.
“Need something? Say it,” Stella said, patience threadbare.
“No.” Irene pressed her lips tight, shaking her head. “I just came to apologize.”
Irene knew that since Stella didn’t want to see her, that was all she needed.
She slumped in disappointment, pitiful and heartbreaking-but Stella felt nothing. No urge to hug her, no softening of her
heart.
To Stella, even if Irene had changed her mind, it meant nothing, and it wouldn’t last long.
Once Sylvia appeared, the little whirlwind would snap back to her old self immediately.
Stella ignored her, rinsed her hand again, dabbed on burn ointment, and finally let out a breath.
Then, she picked up her bag, ready to leave.
“Ms. Spencer, are you leaving now?” Betty hurried after her. “What about Miss Irene?”
“She’s not without a ‘mother,” Stella said evenly. “I’ve done my part. As for the rest…”
She paused, then reworded, softer for Betty’s sake, “I’ll let Ernest know. Whether he shows up isn’t my concern.”
Knowing he wouldn’t answer, she sent a text and walked off, not glancing back.
Even when she caught a glimpse of a small figure peeking from the second-floor window, silently begging her to stay, her steps didn’t falter.
As Stella walked away, Irene felt crushed, heartbroken, and furious all at once.
No coaxing. No hugging. She didn’t expect Stella would leave without a backward glance.
“I already said sorry! Why is she leaving?” Irene muttered, indignant. “If it were Ms. Jansen, she wouldn’t be mad at me.”
Just then, her smartwatch rang.
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ave you behind?” asked Sylvia on the other side.
The words poured gasoline on the fire, igniting Irene’s resentment.
She immediately started a tirade against Stella, carefully avoiding the fact that her own actions had caused the burn.
Clearly, she knew she was at fault but wanted to preserve her image in Sylvia’s eyes.
She was innocent, she thought, and Mom was to blame. If Mom hadn’t thrown a tantrum, she wouldn’t have lied.
“Ms. Jansen, can you come stay with me?” she pouted.
Her pleading tone drew a brief pause on the other end. Stella thought she heard Ernest’s voice-they were probably debating when they could come home.
Hope soared, until Ernest’s voice returned, cool and indifferent.
“Enough for now,” he said. “Betty’s at home with you. We’ll come back tomorrow.”
“But…”
Irene wanted to protest, but the call ended before she could finish.
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