Chapter 110

Chapter 110
Eloise – First Person POV

I had been up since dawn, my nerves buzzing like a kettle left too long on the stove. The sunlight spilled in warm sheets across my bedroom floor, pooling over the neatly folded navy-blue dress I’d chosen for today. I stared at it for a moment, smiling to myself. My baby was graduating from elementary school. My baby—Max—who used to cry when his shoelaces tangled, who once clung to my hip in the middle of a grocery store because the freezer section was “too cold,” was now tall enough to grab the cereal off the top shelf without a stool.

I slipped into the dress, smoothed my hair, and caught my reflection in the mirror. The faint lines around my eyes didn’t bother me today. They were proof of every laugh, every sleepless night, every tear.

Downstairs, the smell of fresh pancakes hit me first, warm and buttery. Max was already in his crisp white shirt and navy slacks, fidgeting with the buttons.

“You look like you’re running for president,” I teased.

His grin was pure sunlight. “Middle school president, maybe.”

I laughed, reaching to fix his collar. “You’re going to charm the whole school, Maxie.”

He wrinkled his nose at the nickname. “Mom, please. I’m a graduate now.”

I was still chuckling when my phone buzzed on the counter. My father’s name lit up the screen for the fifth time that morning. The sound cut into my mood like a dull blade. I turned it over, screen-down, letting it vibrate against the marble until it went quiet. I couldn’t pick up. Not today. I knew exactly what he’d say: Drop the charges, Eloise. She’s family.

Jennifer didn’t feel like family when she tried to burn my life to the ground.

“Are you okay?” Max’s voice pulled me back. He’d stopped buttering his pancake and was watching me with curious eyes.

I forced a smile. “I’m perfect. Eat up—we can’t be late.”

The drive to the school was dotted with sunlight filtering through the trees, the air so warm it carried that faint smell of grass and gasoline from passing cars. Parents in pastel dresses and pressed shirts filled the parking lot, juggling bouquets and balloons.

Inside the gymnasium, the folding chairs had been lined up in neat rows. The air was thick with perfume, coffee breath, and that strange metallic tang from the old basketball hoop in the corner. A banner stretched across the stage: Congratulations, Class of 20XX!

We found our seats in the third row. Mike waved from a few chairs down, looking annoyingly handsome in his dark suit. His tie was crooked, but in that casual, I-did-this-on-purpose way.

The moment my eyes met his, my chest tightened, not from affection, but from the thought of what I now know about Damon. That smug, oily man had stood in front of me two days ago, pretending to make peace, all while knowing he’d been working with Jennifer. I could still hear his voice, dripping with false charm, see the way his faint smile never reached his eyes.

And Mike—God, why did Mike ever have someone like that in his circle?

The principal tapped the microphone, sending a squeal through the room. “Good morning, families and friends! Today we celebrate the hard work and achievements of our graduating fifth graders…”

I tried to let her words wash over me, but my mind kept drifting back to Damon. Should I tell Mike now? Slip into the hallway and just—say it? No. No, that would plant a shadow over the day.

“…and now, the students!”

Polite applause filled the room as the first row of children stood. I craned my neck until I spotted Max in the middle of the line, his face a mixture of nerves and pride.

When his name was called—“Maxwell True!”—I felt something in me swell so hard it hurt. He strode across the stage, shook the principal’s hand, and accepted his little diploma with a grin so wide his cheeks could’ve split.

I clapped until my palms stung. My throat tightened as he gave a tiny wave, scanning the crowd until his eyes landed on me. That smile was mine. That moment was ours.

After the ceremony, the crowd spilled out into the courtyard. The air outside was warmer, full of chatter and the rustle of gift wrap.

“Mom!” Max barreled into me, diploma clutched in his hand like treasure.

I wrapped him in my arms, breathing in the faint scent of his shampoo. “I’m so proud of you, Maxie.”

He grinned up at me. “Mom…”

“Okay, okay. Max.” I kissed the top of his head anyway.

Mike joined us, ruffling Max’s hair. “You did great, champ.”

For a few minutes, we were a little unit, posing for photos, laughing as Max made faces in each one. But beneath it all, my stomach was a knot. Every time Mike smiled at me, every time he asked if I was okay, the truth sat on the tip of my tongue. Damon’s betrayal. His connection to Jennifer. The fact that he’d been in our lives under false pretenses.

My phone buzzed again. Dad.

I stepped aside, pretending to check a message, and silenced it. I could almost hear his voice in my head: Eloise, don’t ruin the family over this. Let Jennifer go.

But I wasn’t letting her go. I’d spent too long cleaning up the mess she’d made of my life.

We wandered toward the refreshment table. Max went straight for the cupcakes, blue frosting smudging at the corner of his mouth. Mike reached for a bottle of water, his eyes scanning the crowd.

“I saw Damon the other day,” he said casually.

My hand froze around a paper cup. “Oh?”

“Yeah. He said he might swing by the celebration later.” Mike’s tone was easy, but I caught the way his jaw tightened, just slightly.

I forced a smile. “Well, let’s see if he does.”

Inside, my blood went cold. If Damon came here today, if he stood in front of me with that smug grin, I wasn’t sure I could stop myself from tearing him apart in front of the cupcake table.

I decided, right then, that I would tell Mike. Just… after today. After Max had unwrapped his gifts and eaten his cake and gone to bed with the glow of the best day of his little life.

Until then, I could keep it in.

Mike slung an arm lightly around my shoulders as Max tugged us toward the playground for one last victory lap with his friends. The smell of grass and sun-warmed wood chips clung to the air. I watched Max climb the slide ladder, his hair catching the sunlight, his laughter ringing out like a bell.

That sound—that joy—was why I kept my secrets close.