Charlene's POV
Ever since Monica arrived, I've felt unsure of my place in this house. I thought she'd leave soon, that her stay would be brief. But it became clear quickly—she wasn't going anywhere.
The house felt different. Quieter. Colder. Even the staff avoided the living room now, as if her presence alone was enough to make them disappear. She was always there, always watching, always in control.
That afternoon, I was at the dining table, helping Lily with her homework. She barely spoke—a stark contrast to the chatty little girl she used to be.
"Are you okay?" I asked gently.
She nodded, eyes fixed on her paper. Didn't look at me.
I didn't push. I knew she felt the tension too—the invisible weight hanging over us. Then, without warning, Monica appeared.
She didn't announce herself. She was just there. Perfectly dressed. Calm. Smiling at the kids as though yesterday's tension hadn't existed.
"Charlene," she said lightly. "Busy?"
"A little," I replied.
"Good," she said. "I won't be long."
Then, casually, almost possessively: "I'm taking my children."
It wasn't a question. It wasn't polite. It was a statement. Ownership. I said nothing.
"Come on, kids. I brought something for you."
The twins stood immediately. Erica followed. Lily stayed close to me, eyes wide, hesitant.
"Lily?" Monica coaxed, forcing a softness into her voice.
The girl clutched her pencil tighter, refusing to look away from her homework—or me. Then she glanced at me, silently asking permission I had no right to give.
I looked away. And that was all the permission she needed.
She got up and followed her mother.
I was left alone, thinking it was over. But Monica lingered near the door before stepping out.
"You know," she said quietly, "you're impressive."
I looked up.
"Even knowing you're temporary," she continued, "you still try to love my children."
She smiled. A practiced, polite smile—but I could feel the fakeness behind it.
"I'm just doing my job," I said softly.
"Job?" She arched an eyebrow. "Oh, darling. You think this is just work?"
I didn't respond.
"You'll get used to it," she added. "To knowing that no matter what you do, blood always matters more."
I understood. The children would choose her, eventually.
She left without another word, and I remained, staring at the empty dining table, frozen.
---
Later, I heard her again.
I wasn't trying to listen. I was passing the hallway, heading to the kitchen, when her voice floated out from Kerill's office.
"…I can take them," she said. "I just need to remind the court who their real parent is."
My chest tightened.
"Don't start," Kerill replied, voice heavy, tired.
"I'm not starting anything," Monica said. "I'm ending something that should have ended years ago."
Kerill stayed quiet. I didn't dare move, listening through the crack in the office door.
"Think about it," she continued. "What happens when I fight for custody?"
"Then do it," Kerill snapped. "I will never give you my children. Why are you even here?"
Her laugh was sharp, mocking. "You used to adore me. You followed me around like a puppy. Look at you now—cold as ice."
"Because you made me this way," he shot back.
"Oh, really?" she laughed. "Or maybe it's because you found someone better? That Charlene? Sixteenth woman in this house? Are you in love with her?"
"Don't talk about her," Kerill said, his voice tight. "At least she loves my children—unlike you."
"I love my children!" Monica spat. "But you took them from me!"
"Took them?" His voice rose. "You abandoned them. You chose your lover over your kids!"
I froze. It was the first time I'd ever heard him raise his voice like that.
"You'll regret this," Monica said, her heels clicking toward the door. "I'll take them back—whether you like it or not."
I ducked behind a large vase, holding my breath as she passed.
So that was the truth.
That was why Kerill was like this. Why the children were guarded. They had been left behind by the one person who was supposed to protect them.
And somehow, knowing it, I felt pain not just for the kids… but for Kerill too. I could feel his heartache, buried but still raw.
Does he still love her?
And why did asking that make my chest ache?