Page 17 of Ruthless Serenade

I move out of her room as quietly as I can, and gently click the door shut behind me. As soon as I’m outside, I heave a long, weary sigh. “You need a hot drink, Mindy,” I murmur to myself.

As I head to the kitchen and prepare myself a steaming cup of decaf coffee, that familiar feeling of emptiness fills my heartagain. Why do I keep thinking about him? Why? Even after all this time?

It’s been seven years since Maron died, yet the pain still lingers. Despite knowing that I will never see him again, I can’t help but let my mind wander to thoughts of him. Maybe it’s because of Sharon. Perhaps it’s just the guilt of knowing that our daughter will never get to meet her father.

That’s enough, Mindy.

These thoughts aren’t helping.

He’s gone. He was shot dead. It was on the news. The last image I have of him is when he saw me cradling Maurice at the Tramoxine launch party. The hurt in his eyes is etched into my soul. Then, he kicked me out of the building. Almost literally. It hurts just to think about it, even after all this time.

I never had a heartbreak like that. I don’t think I will ever have. I tried calling him several times, but to no avail. He made up his mind. He wanted me out of his life for good. And when I learned from the news that he got killed, it was like the final stab to the back.

I cannot even begin to explain what I felt. It was like losing Emily all over again, but different. For weeks, I could not function. There were moments when I thought I was also going to die. But then, somehow, I dragged myself out of my bed and managed to get on with my life. I still had bills that needed to be paid. Besides, I knew that wallowing in my own misery is only going to make matters worse. So, I moved on. At least I thought I did.

Then, Sharon happened. Five months later, just as I was starting to function again like a normal human being, I learnedthat I was carrying Maron’s miracle baby. It’s hard to explain the cocktail of emotions I had felt. If it wasn’t for Betty’s help, I don’t think I’d be here today.

Anyway, that was seven years ago. They say that every seven years, every single cell in the human body dies, and gets replaced with a new one. That makes me a whole new person. And the mother of the most precious child in the world. Yet still, that one lingering feeling, that gnawing thought, never seems to go away. The earth-shattering love I experienced a long time ago. My love for Maron Korolev. The father of my child.

But it is time to face the facts.

It is something that will probably haunt me till the end of my days.

Chapter Six

Mindy

Rush-hour traffic in New York is the definition of insanity.

The line of cars in front of me just won’t end. But then again, this is not the first time I go through this ordeal. I do it five times a week. It's 5 PM on a weekday, which is the craziest time to be in New York traffic. Tens of thousands of people are trying to get home from work and I am one of them.

I know I’m going to be late again. In my mind’s eye, I can vividly picture Sharon sitting alone on one of the benches outside her school, waiting for me. She is almost always the last one to be picked up.

After concluding a meeting with Christine earlier today, I noticed my phone lighting up with missed calls and two voicemails. Then, just as I was about to wrap up for the day, Albert walked in and approached my desk with that slick smile of his.

"Miss Williams, thank God you’re here,” he’d said. “I’ve been reviewing the quarterly projections and I have some ideas. Can we discuss them this week? Perhaps over dinner?"

I caught onto his subtle hint, of course. But instead of reciprocating his flirtatious tone, I maintained a professional demeanor. "Unfortunately, I’m swamped with end-of-quarter tasks, Mr. Solomon. Maybe we could schedule a meeting at the office instead?"

Then, Christine popped her head into my office and saved me from the uncomfortable situation. "Albert, will you please let Ms. Williams finish up? She still needs to pick up her daughter from school."

"Of course, dear," Albert replied, his eyes lingering on me for a little too long.

As they both exited my space, I wondered if Christine picked up on the underlying tension between her husband and me. She probably did. Either way, the awkward change in the atmosphere whenever Albert Solomon is around is starting to weigh on me. But at the end of the day, I just have to continue doing my best to brush off his inappropriate remarks and keep my mouth shut. I can’t afford to lose this job.

Once I had completed the last task of the day, I left the office as quickly as I possible, so that I could listen to the two voicemails in my car.

"Miss Williams, it’s Clarissa Evans from Willow Heights Elementary School. I’m sorry to disturb you, but Sharon’s been having a tough day. We had to separate her from the rest of the class for safety reasons. Please call me back when you can."

I just sat there in shock, with the phone pressed against my ear. Sharon was separated from her classmates? What does that mean exactly? The first image that came to mind was of my daughter being isolated in a plain room, strapped into a straitjacket, sobbing for her mother.

"I’m being overly dramatic," I’d scolded myself. "It’s an elementary school, not an insane asylum." Then I’d listened to the second message.

"Miss Williams, it’s Clarissa Evans again. We think it would be best if you could pick up Sharon early today. She is having a really rough time. She had several conflicts with her classmates and has stopped communicating with anyone."

That’s when I started to panic. I glanced at the timestamps, and it hit me: both voicemails were sent over two hours ago. I don’t even want to think about what Sharon must have gone through since then. But between endless calls, Excel sheets, and unpleasant visits from Albert Solomon, I had zero chance to listen to the messages earlier. I couldn’t even look at my phone, let alone respond.

Guilt swells inside me, but I push it down. All that matters is that I’m on my way to Sharon now. I just need to get out of traffic, pick her up, take her home, and talk things through.

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