Chapter 6
In just two days, Emerald City Private Elementary School—where Jasper attended—would host its annual Parent-Child Art Festival. Isabella had completely forgotten.
She used to care so much about Jasper. Now she didn't even ask.
James's chest tightened. Something was slipping out of control.
Jasper ran up, clutching the invitation, face beaming. "Dad! The school's having the Parent-Child Art Festival! Will you and Ms. Johnson come?"
James paused mid-scroll on his phone.
He met Jasper's sparkling eyes.
"Sure," he said flatly.
If Isabella saw them together at the festival, she'd make a scene.
On the day of the Art Festival, the school hall burst with color. Kids' paintings and crafts everywhere. Parents clustered near their children.
James entered in a sharp gray suit and sunglasses. Heads turned.
Charlotte clung to his arm in a creamy white dress, hair flowing. She looked like a magazine socialite.
Jasper trotted over, grabbing her hand. "Ms. Johnson! See my painting!"
They strolled in as a trio. Picture-perfect.
Charlotte's smile faltered briefly. Then it held. She crouched, ruffling his hair. "Jasper, you're such a good boy."
The hall buzzed. Parents wandered. Many double-took at James and Charlotte.
A dressed-up mom approached Jasper, smiling warmly. "Jasper, both parents here? Your mom's so pretty!"
Jasper tilted his head, blinking. "She's not my mom. She's my aunt."
The woman froze, embarrassed. She laughed awkwardly. "Oh... sorry, I thought..."
Her eyes flicked between them. She backed off.
Charlotte's smile cracked. She hid it with lowered lashes. She kept holding Jasper's hand, gentle.
James stayed impassive, like he heard nothing.
Corner moms huddled. "That pretty woman—must be the mistress..."
Then a pigtail girl dashed up.
Her name was Lily Jones, a classmate of Jasper. She got along well with Jasper in daily life. She had a lively personality and was famously outspoken.
Lily skipped over to Jasper. She first looked Charlotte up and down curiously, then tilted her head, opened a pair of big eyes like black grapes, and asked in a clear and loud voice, "Jasper, this auntie isn't your mom, right?"
Jasper, pulling Charlotte to his art, didn't turn. "She's my auntie."
Lily looked at James, then Charlotte. "So she's your dad's mistress?"
Nearby photo-snappers froze. Eyes locked on.
Charlotte's face turned deathly pale in an instant, her lips trembling slightly and her chest heaving violently, yet she could not utter a single word.
Jasper froze and tilted his head to look at Lily.
He turned to Charlotte, blinking. "What's a mistress?"
Lily nodded knowingly. "A bad woman who steals the mom's spot! One kid in class—dad had a mistress. The kid cried daily. Parents divorced."
Jasper frowned, half-understanding. To Charlotte, "Ms. Johnson, is a mistress bad? Are you one?"
Pure curiosity, no malice.
Charlotte flushed pale to red. Lips quivered. Fingers clutched her skirt.
Whispers swelled. Stares turned into judging.
"Jasper..." She crouched, voice soft. "No, I'm Daddy's friend. Ignore her."
James's face darkened. To Lily, low, "Where's your mom?"
Lily pointed at a sunglassed woman afar, bold. "There! Mom says be honest—no lies."
James's temple pulsed.
He said nothing more, simply took Jasper's hand and whispered, "Come on, let's go see your painting."
Jasper followed, glancing back. "Dad, what's a mistress?"
Charlotte paused behind. Eyes churned with hurt and rage.
But she quickly suppressed all her emotions, hurried forward, took James's arm again, and wore that impeccable gentle smile on her face once more.
In activities, Jasper pulled Charlotte to paint. Hyped.
She leaned into James. Staff snapped family photos.
James center. Charlotte nestled close. Jasper in her arms. Kid art front.
Flawless. Warm smiles. Happy family vibe.
Afternoon, Charlotte posted the edited pic: [Fun at the art festival. Painted with Jasper—he wants to be an artist grown-up. Kids' worlds so pure.]
No James tag. No flirt. Photo spoke volumes.
Comments exploded: [Charlotte, gorgeous! Jasper adorable! Trio so cozy!]
[Announcement?! Waited forever!]
[Mrs. Sinclair real! Sweethearts win—perfect!]
In her Chevy driver's seat, Charlotte scrolled. Smile widened.
Isabella, see? James's side was mine, always.
Tech Harbor, late.
Isabella sorted tomorrow's proposals at her desk. Phone buzzed.
Chloe's text: [Isabella, check this. Don't get mad.] Screenshot attached.
Charlotte's post.
Her husband. Her son. That woman. At school. Family-like.
Isabella closed her eyes. Drawer open. Formal divorce papers out—lawyer's draft, vetted.
Pen in hand. Signed the last page. Neat. Final.
Envelope sealed. Address: Sinclair Villa, Novaria.
Morning courier sent it international.