Chapter 4
Three years after Christmas.
“Mommy!” A childish voice called from outside the small courtyard.
I untied my apron and opened the door with a smile.
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Dirty little Jayla Bauer shot toward me like an arrow released from its bow, throwing herself into my arms.
I asked with a laugh, “Did you go fight with Max again?”
Max was an eight–month–old puppy from the litter born to village chief Lucas Edwards‘ dog.
Jayla grinned sheepishly. “I won!”
Her voice was full of pride.
I asked, “Do you still remember the words I taught you yesterday?”
I grabbed a towel and wiped her face. After a few swipes, the originally white towel turned black, finally revealing her round, freckled little face.
Jayla was the daughter I adopted three years ago when I came to the Mojave Desert after Christmas.
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“Mommy, I’m hungry.” Jayla stuck out her tongue, her big eyes darting around as she changed the subject. “I cut a whole basket of grass for Mr. Edwards‘ sheep this morning!”
I said, “You’re amazing!”
I pinched her chubby little cheeks. Looking at this cheerful little girl I’d raised to be so bright and spirited, my heart felt warm.
I said, “I saved you some food. Remember to wash your plate clean after eating. I need to go to work.”
Her eyes lit up immediately, and she said excitedly, “Don’t worry, Mommy!”
With that, she rushed straight to the kitchen.
I changed into my work clothes, grabbed my toolbox, and headed to the research institute.
Over these three years, more and more artifacts had been excavated, and my work records had become increasingly substantial.
However, I’d barely started working when Director Leonel Lynch came running over urgently: “Aubrey, you need to get home right away! Someone saw Jayla being bullied at the village entrance!”
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My heart tightened, and I hurried toward the village entrance.
I saw Marcus and Aaron, whom I hadn’t seen in three years, and Jayla pinned under Aaron’s foot.
Seeing me appear, Marcus rushed toward me eagerly: “Honey!”
Compared to three years ago, he’d lost a lot of weight. His eyes were sunken, and he looked utterly haggard.
d him away and strode over to Aaron, who was looking at tear–filled, excited eyes. I grabbed him by the collar and ed him twice across the face.
Aaron was stunned by the blows. Covering his face with tears in his eyes, he asked, “Mommy, why did you hit me?”
I gathered Jayla into my arms, soothing her gently, then snorted coldly: “I’m not your mother! Did you forget? I already severed our mother–son relationship. Your beloved Ms. Welch is your new mommy.”
Aaron’s lips trembled, and his face instantly turned deathly pale: “I don’t have a new mommy.”
I said, “That’s none of my business. I have nothing to do with either of you anymore. Please stop bothering me.”
I turned to leave with Jayla in my arms, but Marcus, his face dark as thunder, blocked my path: “Are you married?”
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Aaron pointed at Jayla even more angrily, demanding: “She said she’s your daughter. How is that possible? I don’t have a sister!”
“Jayla is my adopted child, and I’m not married,” I said calmly.
Hearing this, both Marcus and Aaron’s expressions became hopeful.
“But don’t forget—I originally had a biological daughter. And she was killed by your own hands!” I practically roared.
Aaron and Marcus‘ faces instantly turned white as sheets.
“I’m sorry,” Marcus‘ voice was hoarse and low. “We can have other children. Come back with me, honey, please?”
Aaron also cried as he hugged my waist. The once proud and noble child now wept miserably: “Mommy, please don’t abandon me, okay? I miss you. I don’t want another woman to be my mother. I only want you.”
Aaron cried so hard he could barely breathe, as if he might faint
at any moment.
Even Jayla was moved.
She choked back tears and tried to persuade me: “Mommy, I
won’t hold it against him for hitting me. Please don’t let him cry anymore.”
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I affectionately ruffled her hair and explained tenderly: “He used to be my child, but he broke my heart, so I don’t want him anymore.”
This sentence fell like a verdict.
Aaron’s crying stopped abruptly, as if someone had grabbed him by the throat.
His eyes red and swollen, he stared at me in terrified despair, not even daring to cry anymore.
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