Too Late, Ex-Husband: Watch Me Shine

Idella's old Toyota rattled as it idled in front of the massive, wrought-iron gates of the Fitzgerald estate. The rusted bumper looked like a joke next to the sleek Bentleys and Maybachs parked in the distance. The security guard inside the booth stared at her through the glass. He picked up his radio, taking a full five minutes to verify her identity, his eyes filled with undisguised contempt. Finally, the heavy gates groaned open. Idella drove up the meticulously manicured driveway. Her stomach cramped violently, a sharp pain radiating through her abdomen from sheer anxiety and hunger. She bypassed the main garage and parked in the gravel lot reserved for the maids and landscapers. She pushed the car door open. Dead autumn leaves swirled around her ankles. She walked quickly through the towering rose maze, heading straight for the main house where Fount's study was located. A sharp, piercing child's laugh cut through the quiet air. Idella stopped. She turned her head toward the glass conservatory on the south lawn. Austin, her nominal son born via surrogate, was running across the grass. He held a massive, expensive water gun, laughing maniacally as he chased a flock of panicked peacocks, shooting them point-blank. Sitting a few yards away in a white wicker chair was Angelita. Fount's adopted sister, the "charity angel" of Chicago society. She held a bone-china teacup, watching the boy terrorize the birds with a serene, indulgent smile. Idella's jaw tightened. She changed direction, marching toward the conservatory. "Austin, stop that right now!" Idella yelled. Austin caught sight of her out of the corner of his eye. He didn't hesitate. He whipped the heavy water gun around, aimed it directly at Idella, and pulled the trigger. A freezing blast of water hit Idella squarely in the chest. The icy liquid soaked instantly through her thin trench coat and blouse, chilling her skin to the bone. Idella gasped, her breath catching in her throat from the shock of the cold. "Austin!" she demanded, her voice stern. "Put that down!" Instead of obeying, the five-year-old let out a cruel, mocking laugh. "Mommy says you're a useless beggar! Go away!" Austin yelled, his face twisting into an ugly sneer. The words felt like a physical slap. Idella froze. This was the child she had tried to love, the boy she had spent hours reading to when he was a toddler. Anger flared hot in her chest, overriding the freezing wetness of her clothes. She closed the distance between them in three long strides, snatched the water gun from his hands, and threw it hard onto the grass. Austin stared at the plastic gun for one second. Then, he opened his mouth and let out a deafening, ear-piercing shriek. He spun around and sprinted straight into Angelita's arms. "Mom!" Austin sobbed, burying his face in Angelita's designer dress. The word hit Idella like a bullet. Mom. Her pupils dilated. Her heart slammed against her ribs. She stared at the two of them, her mind struggling to process the sound. Angelita's eyes flickered with a brief flash of panic, but it vanished instantly, replaced by a mask of perfect, maternal concern. She stroked Austin's hair soothingly. Angelita looked up, her gaze shifting to Idella. "There is no need to be so aggressive with a child, Idella," Angelita said, her voice soft but laced with heavy accusation. Idella pointed a trembling finger at the boy. "Why did he just call you Mom?" Angelita let out a delicate sigh. She looked at Idella with wide, innocent eyes. "He's confused, Idella," Angelita said smoothly. "Children get their wires crossed when they lack a consistent maternal figure. You've been living in Seattle for work so much... he just clings to whoever is actually here to care for him." The gaslighting was so intense it made Idella dizzy. Angelita was blaming her for the boy's behavior, twisting the knife of Idella's forced absence. Idella's hands shook with rage. She wanted to scream, but the exhaustion in her bones weighed her down. Austin peeked out from Angelita's embrace and stuck his tongue out at Idella, a smug, victorious look in his eyes. Idella stared at them. The shape of Austin's eyes, the curve of his jaw-they looked exactly like Angelita's. A sickening, absurd thought brushed against the edge of her mind, but she forced it down. Now was not the time. Her mother's life was ticking away. "Is Fount inside?" Idella asked, her voice dropping to a dead, flat tone. Angelita smiled, a tiny, victorious upward tilt of her lips. She pointed a manicured finger toward the third floor of the main house, where heavy velvet curtains blocked the windows. Idella didn't say another word. She turned her back on them, her wet clothes clinging uncomfortably to her skin, and began the heavy walk toward the massive oak doors of the estate.