Chapter 2: The Woman Who Came Back

After I hung up with the law firm, I remembered my mother's cashmere shawl was still on the terrace from the graduation party.

It wasn't something I could simply ask a server to mail to me. My mother had worn it during the last winter before she died, and I had kept it carefully ever since. The fabric was soft, gray, and slightly worn at the edges. It was one of the few things I still owned that carried her warmth.

So I drove back to the private club where the party had been held.

It was late, but the terrace lights were brighter than before. The band had switched to light jazz. Guests stood in small clusters, champagne flutes in hand, while servers cleared away food that had gone cold.

The celebration was still going on without me.

My seat had already been cleared. The small arrangement of flowers that had been beside it was gone, and someone had placed a stack of used plates where I had been sitting earlier.

After asking a server, I finally spotted the gray shawl on a bench by the railing.

It had been crumpled into a heap and pinned beneath two empty wineglasses.

I lifted the glasses and shook the water droplets from the fabric. One corner had caught on a rough edge of the bench, but it hadn't torn.

A quiet laugh came from behind me.

"So she really had the nerve to come back."

The voice wasn't loud, but it was pitched to carry.

"Why wouldn't she? She spent twelve years playing Mrs. Mercer. Of course she thinks she matters."

"She helped raise someone else's children for a few years and started thinking she was their real mother."

"Elena's their biological mother. Now that the real one is back, of course she should step aside."

Another woman lowered her voice, but not enough to hide the excitement in it.

"I heard Daniel gave her that broken-down ranch in Wyoming. The roads get snowed in all winter. He might as well have sent her into exile."

They laughed.

"Well, it's not like they left her on the street. That's generous enough."

"If she had any sense, she would have left tonight and not come back. Unless she's here to cause a scene?"

I folded the shawl neatly and draped it over my arm.

For twelve years, these women had attended the charity dinners I organized, eaten the holiday meals I cooked, and dropped their children at my house for entire weekends so I could watch them.

Back then, they called me Mara and praised me for running a perfect household. They asked me for recipes, wedding recommendations, school contacts, and advice about their children's activities. Some had even called me when they needed someone to collect a forgotten child or arrange a last-minute birthday celebration.

Now Elena was back, and suddenly I was an outsider who had stolen someone else's place.

I took out my phone to call a car.

The click of high heels approached.

Three women stepped in front of me, blocking the glass doors that led back inside. The blonde in front was Victoria, one of Elena's college friends. At tonight's party, she had been seated at Elena's right hand, laughing at every story Elena told.

"Mara." Victoria lifted her wineglass, her smile like a coat of lacquer. "Such an important night, and you left so early?"

"I came back for something."

I moved to pass her, but she shifted, blocking my path again.

"We thought maybe you couldn't handle it."

Her gaze dropped to the shawl on my arm.

"Then again, I suppose it makes sense. You spent twelve years as Mrs. Mercer. Handing that place back to Elena all of a sudden... that would take anyone some getting used to."

The woman beside her covered her mouth with a laugh.

"Victoria, don't say that. Legally, she's still Mrs. Mercer for now."

"Only for now."

Victoria took a sip of her drink.

"Daniel and Elena are the children's real parents. Today is about their family being whole again. If you truly care about the kids, you shouldn't keep showing up."

"Move."

"What's the rush?"

Her eyes landed on my phone.

"You've been holding that thing the whole time. What were you taking pictures of?"

"My rideshare app."

"Let me see."

"No."

I stepped toward the door, and she suddenly grabbed for my phone.

I clamped my fingers around it at once.

"Let go."

"How do we know you weren't secretly taking pictures?" she said, raising her voice. "Elena just came back. The press loves stories like this—wealthy family, biological mother, stepmother fighting for position. What if you sell private photos to a tabloid?"

The conversations around us gradually died down.

A few guests turned their heads. Even the servers paused where they stood.

A little drunk and emboldened, Victoria started prying at my fingers.

"If you've got nothing to hide, unlock it."

"This is my private property."

"Then why are you so nervous?"

She gave it a sharp yank.

The corner of the phone slammed into my wrist. Pain shot through my hand, leaving my fingertips numb for a moment. Another woman stepped closer, blocking my shoulder, as if she thought I might try to run.

Someone nearby lifted a phone.

This time, I was the one being filmed.

"Let go," I repeated.

My voice was quiet.

Victoria smiled.

"Don't play the victim. You lived in Elena's house, spent her husband's money, and had her children calling you Mom for twelve years. And now that you're finally being asked to step aside, what exactly do you have to feel wronged about?"

I looked at her hand around my phone. Then I looked at the narrow space between her and the glass doors.

I had spent twelve years avoiding public arguments. I had smoothed over disagreements, apologized for misunderstandings I hadn't caused, and kept my voice calm when other people became unreasonable.

But I was not going to surrender my phone because a woman in a designer dress had decided she was entitled to inspect it.

"Let go."

She pulled harder.

Champagne sloshed from her glass and splashed across my sleeve.

I stopped backing away. I caught her wrist, twisted my own hand free, and pulled my phone from her grasp. Victoria lost her balance and staggered into a nearby table. A glass struck the floor and shattered, the sound sharp and loud against the music.

"You shoved me!" she cried.

"You were trying to take my phone."

I slipped it into my bag.

"Touch me again and I'll call the police. There are cameras here, and plenty of witnesses."

Victoria's expression changed, then she lifted her chin.

"The police? Over this? No wonder Daniel couldn't stand you. You always know how to ruin everyone's good time."

"Trying to take someone's property and blocking their path doesn't become acceptable social behavior just because you're wearing a gown."

The terrace went completely silent.

Her face flushed, then drained of color.

"You think waving legal threats around is going to keep you as Mrs. Mercer?"

I didn't answer.

I only wanted to know whether the sound of breaking glass had carried far enough across the terrace.

I looked up.

Daniel and the four children were standing there, clustered around Elena as if she were the center of the room.

My eldest stepson was holding the gift they had prepared for her.

All of them were watching me.

I saw Daniel's eyes move from Victoria to the broken glass, then to the phone I had put away. I waited, expecting him to ask what had happened before judging anything.

But the silence around us had already become an audience.

And I knew that whatever he said next would tell me exactly whose side he had chosen.