Chapter 3: The Real Wife Steps In

After all that drama, I decided to go to the kindergarten myself. I drove the Maybach and parked right out front, making sure everyone could see. There was still over an hour before school let out, so only a few parents were milling around. I wandered the playground, matching spots from the teacher’s photos, snapping my own for evidence.

I took my time, letting the breeze mess with my hair, snapping shots of the play structure and the mural on the far wall—little details she’d used as her backdrop. The sun felt warm on my skin, and for a moment, I almost felt like just another mom waiting for her kid. But the tension simmered under my skin.

When it was nearly time, I waited at the classroom door, deliberately standing at the back. The bell rang, and the teachers opened the doors. The teacher came out, scanning the crowd with a hint of disappointment, then suddenly lit up—she must’ve spotted the Maybach, thinking Carter was here.

“Parents, please don’t crowd. Let’s line up to pick up your children!” she said, beaming.

After a few minutes, it was my turn. She didn’t recognize me at first and smiled, “Which child’s parent are you?”

I looked up and smiled back, keeping my voice steady and cool. “Eli’s mom.”

I watched her face fall, caught between shock, panic, and forced composure. “Thank you, Ms. James, for looking after Eli. I’ll be picking him up from now on.”

“Oh, what about Mr. Whitaker?” Jessie blurted, then realized she’d slipped, trying to recover, but I didn’t give her the chance.

“Oh, you mean Eli’s dad? He’s working abroad now, won’t be coming anymore.”

“Oh, I see…” She couldn’t hide her disappointment. Eli spotted me and ran out. I led him away, pretending to leave.

“Eli’s mom, wait!” I knew she wouldn’t let me go so easily. If I left, she’d have no more chances with Carter. She asked another teacher to cover for her, ducked into the classroom, and came out with a paper bag.

“Eli’s mom, this is the jacket Mr. Whitaker left with me. Could you give it back to him?” Still putting on the sweet act. I smiled politely and took it.

“Ms. James, I think you’re mistaken. My husband hates black suits.” I calmly handed the bag back.

She froze, then hurriedly said, “That’s impossible! He gave it to me himself… and told me not to catch a cold…” She looked both innocent and a little smug. Most people would’ve been baited into a fight at home by now.

“Hey! Grace’s mom, over here!” I waved at a slightly chubby, fierce-looking mom from the next class, who came over with a grin. “Oh, Mrs. Whitaker, here to pick up your son too?” I nodded, handing her the paper bag. “This should be Mike’s jacket, right? Ms. James said it’s been with her for a while—can you take it home?” Grace’s mom is Mike the driver’s wife.

I glanced at Ms. James, who seemed totally thrown—clearly not expecting Carter to give her the driver’s jacket.

“Huh? How’d Mike’s jacket end up here? I was just saying he lost one the other day—turns out Ms. James had it.” She shot Ms. James a look, her face twisting into a classic “are you kidding me?” expression.

“Yeah, Ms. James said Mike didn’t want her to catch cold, so he gave it to her,” I added, repeating her words lightly, just loud enough for the other parents to hear.

“Wow, our Mike is so thoughtful—gives his jacket to other women, but not to our kid,” Grace’s mom said, raising her voice just as Grace sneezed. Heads turned. Ms. James was trapped between us and couldn’t slip away.

“Yeah, Ms. James was texting my husband late at night, almost made me misunderstand things,” I said, my voice carrying. The crowd started whispering.

“Ms. James, you don’t have a boyfriend, right? Want me to introduce you to someone? That way you won’t be borrowing jackets and texting other people’s husbands all the time,” Grace’s mom said, deadpan. Ms. James, still new and young, turned bright red, eyes shining with tears.

I gave Grace’s mom a quick look, and she took the hint, heading off with her kid, muttering, “It’s tough being a woman these days—you gotta watch out for thieves and kindergarten teachers.” The crowd dispersed, leaving just me and Ms. James.

I gave her a slow once-over. “How does it feel to be the talk of the town? If you don’t want a repeat, you might want to watch yourself.” I walked away with my son, leaving her frozen in place.

Barely home, Jessie messaged Carter: “Mr. Whitaker, I didn’t mean anything by it, just wanted to thank you for your help. If Eli’s mom misunderstood, I apologize—I don’t want her to misunderstand you too.” Wow, she’s still at it. She clearly ignored everything I just said. I was going to let her off with a warning, but now?