Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Teacher's Words
Chapter Ninety-Seven: The Teacher's Words
ANNA SERRANO
"What?" The word came out sharper than I'd intended.
But Mrs. Patterson didn't seem to notice my sudden tension. She just continued speaking, her voice bright with enthusiasm.
"You didn't come to the Parent Appreciation event we had last week, but thankfully Hermione's father was able to attend! We at the school finally got to meet him and get properly acquainted. He's so nice, Ms. Serrano. And Hermione really does take after him, the resemblance is remarkable."
She was rambling now, completely oblivious to the way my expression had shifted, the way my heart had started pounding against my ribcage like it was trying to escape.
Parent Appreciation event. Last week. Hermione's father attended.
The words echoed in my head, each repetition making less sense than the last.
"You had an event at school?" I managed to ask, my voice sounding strange and distant to my own ears. "Last week?"
Mrs. Patterson frowned slightly, clearly confused by my confusion. "Yes, we did. Didn't Hermione tell you? She was supposed to—" She trailed off, her frown deepening as she studied my face more carefully. "You mean you didn't know about it?"
"No, no!" I forced out quickly, arranging my features into what I hoped looked like a casual smile. "She told me. I just momentarily forgot. I've been so busy with work lately, completely immersed in work and project. It must have slipped my mind."
Lie. You're lying. But you can't let her know you didn't know. Can't let anyone at the school think you're unaware of what's happening with your daughter.
"Yes, yes, of course!" Mrs. Patterson's expression cleared, accepting my explanation readily. "Everyone at school guessed that must be why you couldn't make it. You're always present at every school event, you're one of our most involved parents. But it was wonderful to finally meet Hermione's father. The students really enjoyed having both parents represented."
She smiled warmly, completely unaware of the bomb she'd just detonated in my carefully controlled world.
Christopher returned to my side at that moment, carrying two fresh coconuts with straws and the grilled corn wrapped in paper. He looked at me, then at Mrs. Patterson, clearly trying to gauge the situation.
"Thank you so much," I said to Mrs. Patterson, my voice coming out mechanical and practiced. "I really appreciate how you take care of Hermione and teach her. She speaks very highly of you."
"Oh, she's an absolute joy to have in class," Mrs. Patterson beamed. "Smart as a whip, that one. And so well-mannered."
"I'll be visiting the school soon," I added, though I wasn't sure why I said it. My brain felt like it was operating on autopilot while my thoughts spiraled in the background.
"Please do! We'd love to see you." Mrs. Patterson's eyes drifted to Christopher with obvious curiosity, but she was too polite to ask directly who he was or why I was with him instead of Hermione's father.
And I just stood there praying she doesn't say anything stupid.
"Have a wonderful evening," I said, the dismissal clear in my tone.
"You too! Goodbye, Ms. Serrano." She gave a little wave and walked back to join her companion.
The moment she was out of earshot, I felt my composure begin to crack.
"What was that about?" Christopher asked gently, offering me one of the coconuts. "Who was she?"
I took the coconut automatically, my hands shaking slightly. "Hermione's homeroom teacher," I said, my voice sounding hoarse.
Christopher looked at me more closely, his expression shifting from curious to concerned. "Anna? Are you alright? What did she say?"
I took a shaky breath, trying to process what I'd just learned, trying to figure out what it meant.
Hermione had a school event. She didn't tell me about it. She invited someone to come as her father. Someone who looked enough like her that the teacher didn't question it. Someone the entire school now thinks is her father.
And there was only one person who fit that description.
Abel.
My hands were trembling so badly now that some of the coconut water sloshed out of the straw.
"Christopher," I said, my voice breaking slightly on his name. I looked up at him, feeling tears of anger and betrayal stinging my eyes. "Can you take me home? Please. I'm—lI'm getting tired. I think I need to go home."
I need to go home and talk to my daughter about why she lied to me. About why she invited Abel Donovan to her school and let everyone think he's her father. About what the hell she thinks she's doing.
Christopher studied my face for a long moment, and I could see him wrestling with whether to push for an explanation or respect my request for space.
"Of course," he said finally, his voice gentle and understanding. "Whatever you need."
He retrieved our shoes from where we'd left them, helped me put my heels back on even though my hands were still shaking too much to manage the straps properly, and guided me back toward the parking lot with his hand on the small of my back, supportive but not demanding.
The drive back to the Serrano mansion was quiet. Christopher didn't push me to talk, didn't ask questions, just played that same soft instrumental music and occasionally glanced over at me with concern.
I stared out the window, watching the city lights blur past, my mind racing.
Hermione invited Abel to her school. She deliberately didn't tell me about the event. She let him play father for a day while I was completely unaware.
Why? Why would she do that?
What has Abel been telling her? Has he been seeing her behind my back? For how long?
The betrayal felt sharp and personal, not just from Abel, though that stung, but from my own daughter. The child I'd protected, raised, sacrificed everything for.
When we finally pulled up to the mansion, Christopher turned to me with that same gentle expression.
"Thank you for tonight," I said quickly, not wanting him to think this had anything to do with him. "Despite everything, I had a wonderful time. You planned a beautiful evening."
"Anna—"
"I'm sorry it's ending like this," I continued, my voice cracking. "I promise it has nothing to do with you. I just—I need to go handle something with my daughter."
Christopher reached over and squeezed my hand. "You don't need to apologize. Family comes first. Always." He paused. "But Anna? If you need anything—if you want to talk, or just need someone to listen—I'm here. Okay?"
I felt tears threatening again, this time from gratitude rather than anger.
"Thank you," I whispered.
I leaned over and kissed his cheek quickly, then got out of the car before I could fall apart completely in front of him.
As I walked toward the mansion's front door, I heard Christopher's car pull away slowly. He was probably making sure I got inside safely before leaving.
Later, I told myself firmly. Later you can process the sweetness of that gesture. Later you can think about what a good man Christopher is and how much you enjoyed the evening before it was ruined.
Right now, you need to talk to your daughter about the massive lie she's been living.
I pushed open the front door, my heels clicking sharply on the marble floor as I stepped inside.