Chapter 12: A Chaotic Exit The tension in the room reached its peak as Jane's voice rang out, her shrill protests echoing against the marble walls. The sudden arrival of two burly security guards brought an abrupt halt to the escalating chaos. "Madam," the taller guard said firmly, stepping forward, "you need to leave the premises immediately." Jane spun around, glaring at them. "You can’t throw me out! Do you know who I am?!" The other guard gave her a flat look. "We have our orders and this isn’t up for debate. Please cooperate, or we'll have to escort you out by force." Jane’s glare darted toward Helen, her voice rising with desperation. “This is your doing! You think you’ve won, but this isn’t over, Helen! You’ll pay for humiliating me like this!” Helen didn’t flinch. She tilted her head, her icy smile unwavering. “If you spent less time playing the victim and more time reflecting on your mistakes, Jane, you might find life a little easier. But go ahead—make a scene.

14The luxurious restaurant buzzed with soft laughter and the gentle clinking of crystal glasses, its golden chandeliers casting a warm glow over the tables adorned with pristine white linens. Dylan sat across from Helen and Molly, the remnants of their elegant dinner cleared away by attentive waitstaff. The evening had been filled with light conversation, but beneath Dylan’s composed demeanor, a current of gratitude simmered—gratitude toward Helen for everything she’d done for him and Molly.Molly swung her little legs under the table, her bright eyes following the swirl of the dessert cart as it passed by. She had been unusually quiet during dinner, occasionally glancing between Dylan and Helen with an expression that Dylan couldn’t quite decipher.Helen leaned back slightly, her posture as graceful as always, though her sharp business-like demeanor had softened around Dylan and Molly. She turned to Dylan with a small smile. “Shall we go? It’s getting late, and Molly looks like she’

16 Dylan took a deep breath, his fists still clenched at his sides. Before he could respond, the woman took a defiant step forward, her chin raised in smug confidence. “You don’t know who you’re dealing with,” she sneered, jabbing a finger toward Dylan’s chest. “My husband is the regional manager of Luxe Dynamics Company. We’re respected in this community. We don’t take kindly to accusations from... people like you.” Dylan’s eyes narrowed. “People like me?” he echoed, his voice low and dangerous. The woman scoffed, waving a dismissive hand toward Dylan’s beat-up car parked nearby. “Oh, please. I’ve seen that rust bucket you drive. You expect me to believe anything you say over my son? My family has standing in this town. You should think twice before you go around making baseless accusations.” Dylan felt the heat rising in his chest, his heart pounding in his ears. He glanced down at Molly, who was still sniffling on the pavement, her scraped knees now smudged with dirt and b

18Molly's tear-filled eyes widened the moment she saw Helen kneeling beside her. The tension and fear that had gripped her tiny frame broke all at once, and with a choked sob, she flung herself into Helen's arms.“Helen!” she cried, her little voice trembling. “Can you… can you be my mommy?”Helen blinked, momentarily stunned by the sudden, innocent request. Her heart softened as she wrapped her arms around Molly, feeling the child’s tiny body tremble against her. She glanced up at Dylan, her cheeks flushing slightly as Molly continued, her words tumbling out between sobs.“Because… because you held Daddy’s hand yesterday,” Molly whimpered, her voice muffled against Helen’s shoulder. “And… and mommies hold daddies’ hands, right?”Dylan’s eyes widened, caught completely off guard. His mouth opened, but no words came out. A flush crept up his neck, but before he could say anything, Helen chuckled softly, her face pink but warm.“Well, I suppose that’s one way to look at it,” she said g

20 The middle-aged woman’s venomous words hung in the air like a toxic cloud. For a split second, the crowd held their breath, unsure of what would come next. But then, Mrs. Carter’s eyes gleamed with malicious satisfaction, her lips curling into a sneer as she pivoted toward Dylan. “And you,” she spat, her voice oozing disdain, “what kind of man are you? Hiding behind your prostitute girlfriend just to scrape together some dignity?” Laughter erupted from the crowd. Sharp, mocking, and relentless. The kind of laughter that felt like knives digging into flesh. Some parents even doubled over, clutching their sides as if Mrs. Carter had just delivered the joke of the century. Others exchanged knowing glances, their eyes gleaming with cruel delight. The playground, once filled with the innocent chatter of children, now echoed with the harsh, hyena-like cackles of adults reveling in someone else’s humiliation. Dylan remained still. His hands stayed buried in his pockets, his face an un