Mockery

"You're generous, Mr. Quinton. Six thousand is enough to last her a year." Then, they turned to me. "Oh, um, what's your name again? Our legs are killing us here, and our throats too. Get us some water, will you?"

I laughed mirthlessly. They wanted me to serve them? Just when I finally got some precious days off to spend with my husband? They could die in a ditch for all I cared.

I smacked the card away and snapped angrily, "Get your head checked. You probably got hit on the head too much as a kid, and now it's coming back to bite you."

My continued refusal irritated Christopher, and his face fell. Rachel quickly stepped in to calm him down.

Scoffing, she said, "Gratitude doesn't exist in her world, Chris. If she was ever grateful for you, she'd never have stolen your company's most important techniques." She turned to me. "Should I jog your memory? You told us someone tailed you and took away the technique, but right after you quit, our competitor released a new project. It was supposed to be ours."

That did bring up some memories. It was a damp alleyway, and the ground was little better than mud. I could still feel their hands crawling across my body.

"Excuse me, they told us to create an accident and cripple her, not…"

"Ah, who cares? Her lover's not trying to stop us, so why should we be gentlemen?"

All the color was gone from my face.

My silence excited Rachel. "I think this whole encounter is a setup you came up with."

I loudly interrupted her and clenched my fists. "You'd better be ready for the consequences of your words, Rachel. Slander can land you in jail. Another lie out of that mouth of yours, and you'll hear from my lawyer."

My aura was too powerful, and Rachel turned her eyes away. She tugged on Christopher's sleeve. "We should leave, Chris. Don't waste our time with women like her."

Christopher's eyes lingered on me. They refused to move away.

The tension was getting taut, and someone summoned the manager.

"The Halloways' head adores his wife. He hates women who try to climb their way into our circle. Get her out of here, now!"

I was starting to breathe heavily. Yes, that night. That night was a nightmare I could never forget. With trembling hands, I took out my smartwatch. I needed to call my husband. He must send some guys to look for our son.

And then, paper stars fell out of my pocket. That stunned me, and they reminded me of the things my son said to me when he was making these stars.

"I kept my birthday wish in these stars, Mom. Keep them safe for me."

I bent over and picked up the stars, but Christopher stepped on them. With a trembling voice, he said, "What's the point of keeping these now, Queenie? It's too late."

His shoe stepped on my fingertips. The pain shot up my arm, and I pulled it back. I thought, 'Hey, my son made those stars! What's it got to do with you?'

Then, I met his eyes and noticed the tangled emotions within. Another memory came to the surface of my mind.

Christopher spent most of his life hopelessly in love with Rachel, but she broke up with him out of nowhere. The trauma left him scared of love. Every time he had to face it, he was always insecure.

That broke my heart, so I proposed to him.

"I'll prove my love to you, Christopher. If you're happy with something I do, give me a star. When you fill up a whole mason jar with paper stars, you'll be the one to propose to me."

He held the jar and cried tears of joy like a child who'd gotten the best birthday present of his life. He wouldn't stop making promises, both to me and himself.

The Past

"We'll be together forever, Queenie. I swear, this is our happily ever after."

That was ancient history. I'd almost forgotten about it, but he had to bring it back up. Since he wasn't going to move his foot away, I let go instead.

I tapped on my smartwatch with my grime-covered hands, but it refused to light up. Worried, I started scrubbing my fingers with my clothes, but then the racecourse's manager charged toward me and snatched my watch away.

Suspicious, he checked the watch slowly. When he noticed the diamond-encrusted band, he said with certainty, "This watch is at least six figures. There is no way you could've afforded this. You stole from our guest, didn't you? Get her and take her to the cops, security!"

He then grabbed his walkie-talkie and told his men to find out if any of the VIPs had lost anything valuable.

The security guards pulled my arms behind me and were going to escort me off to the cops. This was unbelievable. I turned around and shouted, "That's my watch! You have no right to do this to me before you prove that the watch is stolen!"

Rachel chuckled, amused by the show. "Oh, please, like a criminal would tell on themselves willingly. We know you're a compulsive thief."

The manager bought that story fully and told the guards to take me away. My wrists were burning from the guards' grip, and I thrashed around, struggling to break free.

Christopher came up to us and pulled me out of the guards' grip. "Come with me. I'll handle the rest." Then, he dragged me off.

It was then that a three-year-old boy came squeezing out of the throng. His face was red, and he called out to me, "Mom! Hold me!"

I jerked my head around. My son was waddling over to me like a duck, but when he passed Rachel, he tripped on her heels, and the plastic bottles he was holding flew everywhere.

His face scrunched up, and he cried his heart out. His knees were red from the scraping, and it broke my heart. "It's alright, Jon. Don't cry. I'll be right there."

Then, someone gasped, "Oh my God, I think I've seen this kid. He was with Mr. Halloway!"

Rachel picked my son up and gently cooed, "It's alright, boy. That woman's not your mom. I'll take you back to your family."

The other huddled around my son. That scared him, and he cried louder than ever. He wriggled and thrashed and struggled in Rachel's arms. He stretched his arms in my direction. "I want my mom!"

Christopher's grip on my hand went tight, and I gasped. His teeth were clenched, and he hissed into my ear, "You can't go around calling just any kid your son. Is this how you're going to torture me?"

And then he lifted me up and took me away.

My son was going to disappear from my sight, and I smacked his back. "Put me down or I'll hate you forever, Christopher!"

He came to a halt, and then a bodyguard in black came crashing into him. Right before I fell to the ground, someone caught me.

I turned around only to be met with a group of bodyguards blocking the throng. They parted into a path, and a man in a wheelchair came into the scene.

He was wearing a casual shirt covered in children's doodles, yet it could not cover up his elegant air. Everyone's eyes were on him, and I too followed their sights.

When I saw the man, my eyes went red. "Honey."