Daniel closed his eyes briefly, remembering an hour earlier.

 

Last night Junior refused to eat from anyone. Refused to sleep in his room. Sat in front of Alina’s bedroom door with his teddy bear, waiting.

Mrs. Helen tried to take Junior to his room, but the boy struggled, crying hysterically.

“I WANT MAMA! MAMA ALINA!”

Finally Daniel himself had to come down—for the first time in years—lifting Junior who was exhausted from crying, carrying him to his room after the boy had worn himself out.

Junior fell asleep in Daniel’s arms with a face wet with tears, but even in sleep, his lips still moved slowly whispering the word, “Mama…”

Daniel placed Junior on the bed carefully, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He stood there for a moment, watching his son—a face peaceful in sleep but tear tracks still clear on his reddened cheeks.

Daniel left Junior’s room, closing the door soundlessly.

In the corridor, Margaret and Clarissa were waiting. Both were still in their gala dinner gowns, hadn’t had time to change—or more accurately, deliberately didn’t go home, claiming to “help calm Junior.”

“Did he finally fall asleep?” Margaret asked in a low voice.

Daniel nodded, walking past them toward the stairs. “Exhausted from crying.”

Margaret and Clarissa followed Daniel down to the family room. Mrs. Helen had already prepared chamomile tea and some finger sandwiches on the table—though no one touched them.

Daniel poured whiskey for himself, standing in front of the large window facing the dark garden.

Margaret sat on the sofa with upright posture, Clarissa beside her with a softer posture—calculated softness.

“Daniel,” Margaret began in a tone that was firm but with worry there. “We need to talk about what happened tonight.”

Daniel drank his whiskey without turning. “There’s nothing to talk about. Alina just overreacted.”

“Overreacted?” Clarissa spoke up, her voice soft but with hurt there. “Daniel, she left Junior. In the middle of a public event. Made a scene in front of hundreds of guests. That’s not ‘overreacting,’ that’s irresponsible.”

Daniel turned, looking at Clarissa with an empty expression. “She didn’t create a scene. You created a scene when you tore Junior from her arms and cornered her in front of Junior.”

Margaret’s jaw hardened. “I did what had to be done. Junior was hysterical. He was confused. He needed—”

“He needed Alina,” Daniel cut in flatly. “That’s what he needed. Not Mom. Not Clarissa. Alina.”

A momentary silence.

Clarissa looked at her hands folded in her lap, her facial expression wounded. As if Daniel’s words hurt her deeply.

Margaret noticed and immediately became protective. “Daniel, you shouldn’t talk like that. Clarissa is Junior’s birth mother—”

“Who left him five years ago,” Daniel cut in, his eyes still on Clarissa. “For her career. For Paris. For—”

“I know I was wrong!” Clarissa suddenly stood, her voice trembling—genuine emotion or good acting, hard to tell. “I know I left Junior and it was the biggest mistake of my life. But I’m back now, Daniel. I want to make it right. I want to be a good mother to him.”

Tears began to fall from Clarissa’s eyes. She wiped them quickly with the back of her hand.

“But how can I be a good mother if Junior has already been conditioned to reject me? If Alina has already programmed him to hate me?”

Daniel frowned. “Alina never badmouthed you in front of Junior.”

“You don’t know that!” Margaret stood now too, walking toward Daniel with sharp eyes. “You’re at the office 12 hours a day. You don’t know what Alina whispers to Junior when they’re alone. You don’t know how she might manipulate that little child’s mind to—”

“Alina isn’t like that,” Daniel said, but his voice lacked conviction.

Because indeed, he didn’t really know. He was never there. Never noticed the detailed interactions between Alina and Junior. He just assumed everything was fine because Junior was happy and Alina never complained.

Margaret saw the doubt in Daniel’s eyes and immediately pressed further.

“Daniel, listen to me.” Margaret put her hand on her son’s arm, forcing Daniel to look at her. “Alina Hayes came to our family because of a contract. Money. Not love. She married you because her family was bankrupt and you were the only one willing to help. Do you think a woman like that—a woman sold by her own family to pay debts—has genuine love for Junior?”

“Mom—”

“She’s acting, Daniel!” Margaret hardened her voice. “For five years, she’s been acting like a good mother, a faithful wife, because she knows if she fails, the contract ends. Her family’s debt comes due. She’ll lose everything.”

Daniel fell silent, staring at the whiskey in his hand.

His mother’s words made sense, in a twisted way. The contract was real. The debt was real. And Alina had never chosen this marriage—she was forced by circumstances.

“Then why did she leave tonight?” Daniel asked quietly. “If she only cares about the contract, why did she take the risk of leaving?”

“Because she’s dramatic,” Margaret answered quickly. “Because she wants attention. She saw Clarissa return and she panicked—panicked that her position was threatened. So she created a scene, playing victim, so you’d chase her and beg her to come back.”

Clarissa added in a soft voice, “And when you chase her, Daniel, she’ll feel powerful. She’ll know that even with Clarissa back, you still ‘need’ her. That’s a manipulation tactic. Classic.”

Daniel looked at Clarissa with a skeptical expression. “You’re saying Alina is manipulative?”

Clarissa sat back down gracefully, crossing her legs, hands folded elegantly in her lap. “I’m not saying she’s evil, Daniel. I’m just saying she’s smart. She knows exactly which buttons to push. Junior is her biggest leverage. As long as Junior is attached to her, she has power in this family.”

Margaret sat back down, nodding in agreement. “And tonight, when I took Junior from her arms, she lost control. That’s why she left. Not because she was hurt. But because she lost the power play.”

Daniel walked back to the bar, pouring a second whiskey. His hand was slightly unsteady.

Something inside his chest screamed that this was wrong. That Margaret and Clarissa were twisting facts. That Alina wasn’t like that.

But… he didn’t really know Alina, did he?

Five years married, but how many genuine conversations had they had? How many times had Daniel actually sat with Alina and talked—truly talked—about feelings, thoughts, dreams?

Never.

They lived like strangers living in the same house. Alina handled Junior. Daniel handled business. Margaret handled social obligations. Everybody in their lane.

“What should I do?” Daniel finally asked in a tired voice.

Margaret stood, walking to her son, touching his cheek gently—a rare gesture of affection from a woman who was usually stoic.

“You bring her home,” Margaret said firmly. “But not by begging. Not by chasing. By reminding her about the contract. About the consequences. She signed an agreement, now she has to honor it.”

“You want me to threaten her with her family’s debt?” Daniel looked at his mother.

“Not a threat,” Margaret smiled thinly. “A reminder. A legal reminder about obligations she voluntarily agreed to. There’s nothing wrong with that.”

Clarissa stood too, walking toward Daniel from the other side. “And when she comes home—you set clear boundaries. She’s here only as a substitute mother until I fully transition back to being Junior’s mother.”

“Substitute mother,” Daniel repeated in an odd tone.

Clarissa touched Daniel’s arm gently. “I know this is difficult, Daniel. I know for five years, Alina has become a comfortable fixture in this house. But you have to remember—she’s not your real wife. Your marriage is a contract. Not love.”

Daniel looked at Clarissa’s hand on his arm—a hand that was once familiar, but now felt foreign.

He remembered five years ago, when Clarissa left him. A brief letter on the dining table. “I’m sorry, Daniel. But I can’t be a good mother to Junior right now. I need to find myself first. I’ll come back someday. Love, C.”

That someday didn’t come for five years.

And now she suddenly returned, expecting everything to go back to how it was?

“Clarissa,” Daniel said quietly, removing the woman’s hand from his arm gently but firmly. “I appreciate that you want to repair your relationship with Junior. But that will take time. Junior doesn’t know you now. To him, you’re a stranger.”

Clarissa’s smile faltered slightly. “I know. That’s why I need time with him. Quality time. Without Alina in the middle, confusing him.”

“What do you mean?”

Margaret answered before Clarissa could. “She means, maybe Alina needs to step back a bit. Give space for Clarissa to build a relationship with Junior. Not stop completely—Junior still needs consistency—but a reduced role.”

Daniel looked at his mother with a skeptical expression. “Junior was hysterical earlier because Alina left. You think a ‘reduced role’ will make him better?”

“It will be difficult at first,” Margaret said. “But children adapt. With proper guidance, Junior will learn to bond with Clarissa. And eventually, he’ll realize—Clarissa is his birth mother. That’s nature. Blood calls to blood.”Daniel wasn’t sure about that. But he was also too tired to argue.

The clock on the wall showed 2:00 AM. He had to bring Alina home before Junior woke up and realized she was still gone.

“I’ll call Alina,” Daniel finally said. “Give her an ultimatum. She comes home or I enforce the contract.”

Margaret smiled—satisfied. “Good. That’s the right decision.”

Clarissa nodded, her facial expression relieved? Triumphant? But it was quickly covered with a mask of concern.

“I hope she comes home, Daniel,” Clarissa said gently. “For Junior. Whatever issues we have, Junior is the priority.”

Daniel nodded without looking at Clarissa, already walking to the study to get his phone.