Chapter 2

My husband was here.

Clint hurried over, frantically wiping his sweat, rushed straight up to me, and grabbed my shoulder.

"What did you do? Where did you take that child?"

He pronounced me guilty the moment he opened his mouth.

I gritted my teeth.

"I never touched her child."

"You're still going to argue?"

He looked absolutely heartbroken.

"You just had a miscarriage last month. Seeing someone else with a child, you couldn't help being jealous."

"But even if you took the child away just to play with for a while, you should have given them back."

The whole crowd exploded, buzzing with talk.

"So it turns out she miscarried—but that's still no excuse to steal someone else's kid."

"Isn't this some kind of psycho? She has no child of her own, so she's jealous of people who do."

Just like the on-screen comments had predicted.

He was using my miscarriage to make the accusation stick.

I stared at Clint.

"You just said I took her child away. Did you see it?"

Clint froze for a second.

"No."

"Then you only just got here—how do you know a child even went missing?"

"Nanette called me and asked me to help talk some sense into you."

"And whatever she says is automatically true?"

"She's your best friend. Why would she ever hurt you?"

Clint got flustered.

"Besides, you've got a record! Didn't you carry off your sister-in-law's kid last month? The whole family went out of their minds looking for you..."

I frowned.

It was true that I'd been in a bad way after my miscarriage.

My sister-in-law wanted to take my mind off it, so she handed her son over for me to look after for a few days.

And in his mouth, that turned into me having a record of stealing children.

Clint's words immediately set off more chatter.

People started urging me.

"Just give the child back to them. Even if you don't have one of your own, you can't take someone else's."

"Yeah, we get that you're hurting inside, but don't do something wrong."

I clenched my fists in fury.

"Fine, then let's call the police!"

"I didn't take any child—I'm not afraid of an investigation!"

I was about to dial.

Nanette was quick—she slapped the phone right out of my hand.

"No! This affects the mall's reputation. I can't let you do something reckless!"

The phone hit the floor, and a small piece of the screen cracked off.

I went to pick it up, but Clint was faster.

He slid my phone into his own pocket, putting on a look of concern.

"Yolanda, calling the police is bad for your reputation. Don't do anything rash."

"Be reasonable. Give the child back, and everything will be fine!"

Rage boiled up in me.

But I told myself to stay calm.

"All right, we don't have to call the police."

"So tell me—how long has the child been missing?"

Everyone looked at Lola.

She cried out.

"Almost half an hour now!"

"Half an hour. If I really did take the child, would I stick around here waiting to get caught?"

I was talking fast.

"The mall has cameras, a PA system, security. Something happens and you don't lock down the doors—you just let people come and go as they please. This is your idea of an investigation?"

"Just because I glanced at the child once, you decide I'm a trafficker? Is that evidence going to convince anyone? More likely you lost your own child and you're trying to shake somebody down!"

The question left Lola frantic and furious.

"My child is missing and you're saying I'm shaking someone down? What proof do you have?!"

"You don't have any proof either, and you're calling me a trafficker!"

We faced off, and for a moment the crowd started to waver.

Someone spoke up.

"What this woman's saying kind of makes sense..."

Seeing the mood shift, Clint got desperate.

"Yolanda, stop making a scene..."

"I'm making a scene?"

I cut him off.

"You've been here five minutes, you haven't looked at a single piece of evidence, you just heard Nanette say one thing—and you want me to confess?"

"You believe her but not me. Whose husband are you, exactly?"

Clint had no answer.

For a moment the air went stiff.

Suddenly Lola screamed in a rage.

"You still won't give my child back—have you already done something to him?!"

Crying and screaming, she lunged at me, clawing for my face.

I tried to block her with both hands, but Clint held me fast.

Lola's sharp nails raked across my face, tearing it open in bloody streaks.

"I'll kill you, you trafficker! Give me back my son's life!"

I struggled, but I couldn't break loose.

"Clint, let go of me!"

I strained with everything I had, but I wasn't as strong as him.

His grip never loosened, though his voice stayed gentle.

"Yolanda, you have to cooperate with the investigation, or you'll never clear yourself of the trafficking charge."

Off to the side, Nanette covered her mouth and laughed.

She watched the farce play out for a while before finally calling someone to pull Lola off me.

Clint let go at once.

I slumped to the floor.

My face burned with pain, one earlobe was torn, and there was a lot of hair scattered on the floor where it had been ripped out.