Chapter 1

After the divorce, I watched with my own eyes as my daughter ran along behind the two children of my ex-husband's first love.

The seven-year-old boy raced ahead on his custom bike, then turned around to laugh at my daughter running under the blazing sun, calling her slow as a turtle.

So the day before Jarvis Henson planned to propose to his first love, I agreed to remarry him.

In front of the county clerk's office, Jarvis took out that ring again.

"Victoria Pruitt, I really thought you'd made up your mind never to look back."

"I never imagined..."

"From now on I'll take good care of you and our daughter. As for Hilda Simmons, she and I will only ever be lifelong good friends."

I gave a small hum and held out my hand to him, a smile on my lips that never reached my eyes.

Jarvis didn't know.

This time, I was remarrying for my daughter, and for the money.

As for his wavering protection and his so-called sincerity, he could give it to whoever he liked.

1

The ring, just the right size, slid onto my middle finger, and the first to offer congratulations was Jarvis's first love, standing off to the side.

Her eyes were rimmed red, her smile forced.

"Jarvis, congratulations to you and Victoria."

"Now that you two are back together, I should take the children abroad."

At that, Jarvis's expression shifted, and much of his earlier joy drained away.

"Abroad?"

"Why didn't you mention this before?"

"You have no one to rely on. Once you leave the Henson family, where can you go with two children?"

Hilda drew in a deep breath, her smile bitter.

"It was a last-minute decision."

"I'd thought..."

She shot me an unreadable glance, and her gaze finally settled on the diamond ring on my middle finger.

"Never mind."

"Jarvis, it's Eng-land. Andrew Simmons loves soccer, and Ronnie says he's happy to follow his brother."

"If nothing comes up, we probably won't be coming back. You and Victoria take care of each other, and don't split up over small things again."

"Being given hope and then having it fall apart... it really hurts."

In just a few words she pinned the reason I'd insisted on divorcing Jarvis on nothing more than small things.

Looking at her tears, Jarvis fell silent. The arm around my shoulders turned, and without thinking he reached over to wipe the tears from her face.

Guilt and tenderness in his eyes.

Six years together. I knew better than anyone what that gesture of his meant.

He was regretting it.

Regretting whether he shouldn't have thrown out his proposal plan and come here instead to sign the papers with me in front of the county clerk's office.

He probably felt he'd let Hilda down.

Yet he'd already forgotten the words he'd said just minutes ago as he slipped the ring onto my finger.

"Victoria, from now on I'll take good care of you and our daughter. As for Hilda, she and I will only ever be lifelong good friends."

I'd like to ask: would good friends behave the way they did, where one only had to shed a few tears and the other would drop everything, again and again abandoning trips and birthday parties he'd promised his wife and daughter to go running off?

Or leave his own flesh-and-blood daughter to fend for herself while spoiling this "good friend's" children rotten?

I'll never forget a week ago, at the lakeside park near the Henson house.

The sight of my three-year-old daughter running after Hilda's two seven-year-old sons.

They rode brand-name custom bikes, pads on their hands, feet, and knees, little fans hanging around their necks.

While my Tammy, in cotton socks and cotton shoes, chased those two so-called "big brothers" under the blazing sun.

Her hair was soaked with sweat and stuck to her cheeks and forehead, her little face flushed red from the heat. On the downhill she couldn't keep up, her foot slipped, and she pitched forward, chin and palms and knees scraping hard against the ground until the blood beaded up, and then the two of them circled back and surrounded her, laughing loudly.

It drew the eyes of everyone strolling past.

"The slow turtle can't keep up, the slow turtle fell down!"

"Look at the slow turtle, it's so funny, hahaha."

A three-year-old already knows what pride is.

Hot and hurting, Tammy cried as she scrambled up, wrapped her arms around her legs, buried her face in the crook of her arm, and sobbed as she said,

"No, I'm not a turtle."

"Mommy, I want my mommy..."

When the nanny sent me that video, I couldn't stop crying, my heart bleeding.

And at that moment, what was Jarvis, her own father, doing?

He and Hilda were behind them on a sightseeing cart, chatting away as if all was right with the world!

By the time they caught up with the three children, Tammy had cried herself half to fainting under the sun.

Jarvis saw it and not only didn't care, but because of a couple of teasing remarks Hilda made while giving her sons water, he frowned and blamed Tammy without hearing a single thing out.

"Tammy saw her two big brothers had bikes and got jealous."

"But boys need better motor skills, and riding builds leg strength. Tammy's a girl, she doesn't need muscle. Running around for exercise is better for her anyway."

"Auntie Hilda's right, Tammy. You be good and get along with your two big brothers."

"So young and already comparing and getting jealous. What does that look like?"

But could Jarvis really not see how humiliated and miserable his daughter was?

As an adult, he could tell at a glance, and he did nothing.

Afterward, Tammy spiked a high fever from moderate heatstroke and was rushed to the hospital.

And at that exact time, Hilda twisted her ankle, so Jarvis again abandoned Tammy and hurried off to the apartment to look after her and her two sons.

In the end it was the nanny, the one who'd cared for Tammy since she was born, who couldn't stand it any longer and contacted me privately.

That night keeping watch at the hospital was the first time since the divorce that Jarvis's renewed favoritism kept me from sleeping.

It was also the first time in half a year that the thought of remarrying took root in me.