Chapter 3

3: 3

Every taut nerve in me went slack in an instant.

I gripped the cabinet beside me and forced myself upright.

The second Linda saw Brandon, her eyes lit up.

She scampered over in my slippers, mouth twisted into a pout, whining.

"Brandon, you're finally here! Any later and this thieving old maid would've bullied me to death!"

Brandon swept a glance over the wreckage across the floor.

He didn't so much as look my way.

He soothed Linda in a gentle voice.

"Don't be afraid. I'm here."

Then he turned to the security guards, his voice cold.

"Clear out everyone who doesn't belong here. Anyone causing trouble, call the police and have them taken away."

A few guards began coaxing the neighbors to go back to their own homes.

Two of them seized my arms, one on each side, and started dragging me toward the door.

Fury detonated in my chest.

"Brandon! You let them lay a hand on me and see what happens!"

Brandon heard that voice, one he knew better than any other.

His whole body stiffened. He turned, saw it was me, and his face went blank with disbelief.

Only then did he register that the person the guards had pinned, clothes in disarray, coffee stains still clinging to her, was his own mother.

"Why is it you?"

I wrenched free of the guards, spacing out each word.

"In front of everyone here, say clearly who I am!"

Linda pinched him hard.

"Go on, say it. Isn't this old woman the maid who used to work here?"

Brandon closed his eyes.

Through clenched teeth he forced out the words that cut straight through me.

"She's the maid."

A roar went through my skull and everything went blank, all the blood in me freezing at once.

I carried him ten months, gave birth to him, raised him through more than twenty years of hardship.

And in the end my own son called me the family maid?

Linda, thoroughly pleased with herself, threw out a scornful line from on high.

"Shameless old thing, had enough of your little performance yet?"

"You're a servant, born to wait on people. You actually thought your old employer would step in and prop up a washed-up hag like you?"

I clenched my fists.

Without a word, I turned and went upstairs to dig out the household registration papers.

Brandon rushed over and pulled me into a corner.

He begged me in a low voice only the two of us could hear.

"Mom, stop making a scene. Can't you leave me a little face in front of everyone?"

"Just admit it for now, and I'll find a chance to explain later, all right?"

I truly couldn't understand it.

Why my son had become the kind of spineless coward who wouldn't even claim his own mother in front of his girlfriend.

But I looked at his pale face and the faint purple in his lips.

The words I wanted to hurl at him jammed in my throat.

Linda, though, had no intention of letting me off.

She went over to the little side room.

Grabbed a bed sheet at random, bundled my things into it any which way, and threw the whole thing out the door, everything crashing to the floor.

On top was my mother's memorial portrait, and it cracked clean in two with a sharp snap.

Something in me went hollow, as if I'd been emptied out.

I scrambled down to gather it up, wood splinters and glass shards catching on my fingertips, beads of blood welling up at once.

"Auntie! Don't go pleading with Brandon, hoping he'll let you stay on in this house waiting on people!"

"You shameless old slut, this family doesn't want you!"

Cradling the photo broken in two, I lifted my head and looked at Brandon.

My mother, his late grandmother, was once the person who loved him most.

"See for yourself what she's done!"

A flicker of grief crossed Brandon's face, almost impossible to hide, his lips moving twice.

He looked away from my eyes and drew a deep breath.

"Can't you just go back for now? I'm begging you."

The anger boiled up in me from every direction.

I wanted nothing more than to land a punch on this heartless little brat.

But he suddenly swayed and threw out a hand to catch himself against the wall.

His face was white as paper, the purple in his lips more pronounced now.

My heart clenched hard.

His white blood cell count was spiking again.

All the fury, the grievance, the hatred, all of it got crushed down in that single instant.

I reached out to steady him, my eyes reddening before I could stop them.

"Don't say another word. Come with me to the hospital, now!"

I had my son in hand and had barely turned to go.

But Linda lifted her chin, imperious.

"Brandon! If you dare fawn over this pregnant scam-artist third wheel, I'll have your dad cut off your card!"

"Then you'll know the truth. I'm the one your dad loves most, the one closest to his heart!"