Chapter 33: 33

Chapter 33

"Where’s Vladimir?"

France stood before a storage room, his brows furrowed, eyes scanning sharply. In front of him were three boys—classmates—who looked like they'd seen a ghost.

France hadn’t attended class that morning. He’d overslept after spending most of the night thinking about what gift to give Vladimir for his upcoming birthday. Despite waking up late, he decided to come in by noon—his gut told him something bad might happen to Vladimir, and he was right.

Without hesitation, France delivered a hard kick to the door next to the three boys. The sudden bang made them jump in fright.

“Where’s Vladimir?” France asked, voice steady but cold. “Tell me now, while I’m still calm and asking nicely.”

His words were laced with sweetness, but the look in his eyes was enough to make the boys panic. Without another word, they burst into tears and ran down the hallway, shouting for a teacher.

France didn’t move. He froze in place when he heard a thud come from behind the storage room door. He grabbed the doorknob and tried to open it—it was jammed. He tugged and yanked until finally, it gave way.

There, on the cold floor, lay—

“Vladimir?”

He rushed inside.

Vladimir was lying facedown on the floor. His school uniform was stained and damp, his body trembling slightly. France’s hands went cold at the sight.

“What the hell happened to you?!” France exclaimed, kneeling beside him. “Why are you covered in cuts?! Who did this to you?”

France reached for his phone. “I’m calling a teacher.”

“No!” Vladimir said weakly, grabbing France’s wrist.

France stopped, stunned.

“My parents,” Vladimir whispered.

France clenched his jaw. With burning frustration, he hugged the smaller boy tightly. “Fine. But I’ll treat your wounds. You’re coming with me.”

—

Later, Vladimir tried to explain. He said he had fallen earlier—that was how he got hurt—and that he got locked in the stockroom by accident.

“Lie… Lie… Lie…”

It repeated like a broken record in France’s head. He didn’t believe a word of it.

If Vladimir had simply fallen, why was his uniform so filthy? Why was it wet? Why did he have fresh bruises again?

France pulled out a clean set of uniform from his bag—he always carried a spare—and handed it to Vladimir.

“Change into this,” France instructed.

Vladimir obeyed silently and went inside one of the cubicles to change.

“I forgot my lunchbox in the clinic,” France called out from outside the cubicle. “Stay here. Watch my bag.”

“Okay,” Vladimir replied softly.

France left the restroom with a faint smile. He didn’t actually forget anything at the clinic. He was headed somewhere else.

—

He walked to their classroom. As expected, it was empty—their classmates were still out on the field for P.E.

France walked between the desks, scanning the rows until he stopped in front of three school bags. He stared at them, his eyes cold and calculating.

—

Meanwhile, Vladimir had finished changing and stepped out of the cubicle. He sat near the entrance, holding France’s bag protectively while his own bag sat behind him.

He had his head bowed, resting against France’s backpack, when the restroom door opened.

“You look like a lost puppy,” France said, grinning. “Come on. Let’s head back to class.”

Vladimir stood immediately and shyly clung to the sleeve of France’s shirt as they walked out.

“You’re a big guy,” France muttered, annoyed. “Why can’t you defend yourself?”

As far as France knew, they were about the same age. He had just turned nine this year—but Vladimir was taller than most ten-year-olds. No one would believe he was only eight.

“Where were you this morning?” Vladimir asked in a whisper. “Were you sick?”

France glanced at him, then scoffed.

“I’d go to school even with a fever. I just overslept. And the guard wouldn’t let me in after the bell.”

—

Back in the classroom, it was still empty.

Vladimir sat down and placed France’s bag beside him. France went over to the shelf to get his textbook.

“Page 8 and 9—that’s what we worked on this morning,” Vladimir said helpfully.

France gave a quick thanks and flipped to the pages. Then, without sitting down, he walked over to the trash bin and dumped several folded letters he found stuck between the pages.

“Messy,” he muttered.

Then he turned back to Vladimir. “Get my lunch bag from the pocket of my bag. I’ve already eaten, so it’s all yours. My mom made something new—you’ll probably like it.”

At the mention of food, Vladimir’s eyes lit up. He eagerly reached into France’s bag and took out the lunchbox.

France stole a glance at the boy’s beaming expression. He smirked.

“Heh. Idiot,” France mumbled with a shake of his head.

Not once did Vladimir question why France had claimed he left the lunchbox in the clinic, only for it to turn up in the bag he’d left behind.

France sat beside him and began answering practice questions in his workbook.

They decided not to join the P.E. class anymore. It was almost over, and lunchtime would follow soon anyway.

—

“Before your birthday, take care of yourself,” France said without looking up. “If you don’t, your mom might worry. They’ll be taking you to the mansion before your birthday, remember?”

Vladimir froze.

“Will I have to go back to the mansion after my birthday?” he asked quietly.

France didn’t answer for several seconds.

“My dad’s doing everything he can to speed up the custody process,” he finally said.

France’s thoughts churned. In truth, it would be better if Sonia saw Vladimir’s bruises. It would strengthen their case in court and help them gain full custody—but...

He looked at Vladimir again.

That wasn’t what Vladimir wanted. For some reason, the boy was terrified of letting his mom know what was happening to him—of letting anyone know that Themarie was abused him.

—

Their classmates began returning. Some walked over to France.

“Why weren’t you here this morning?”

Then, one of the boys shouted, “Where’s my game console?!”

Another one scrambled through his things. “Where’s my lunchbox?! My mom’s gonna kill me!”

Panic spread as more students began checking their belongings.

Then—

“Vladimir! You took them, didn’t you?! You were the only one here!”

One of the bullies stomped toward Vladimir, who quickly covered his head.

“I didn’t! I didn’t take anything!” he said, trembling.

Before the boy could get any closer, he suddenly tripped—his foot caught behind France’s.

The boy crashed to the ground face-first and wailed in pain. Blood spilled from his mouth as three of his front teeth clattered on the floor.

“France! Are you okay?!”

Everyone ignored the injured boy and rushed toward France, who was now sitting on the floor, holding his foot and crying.

“My foot… It hurts…!”

“France!”

Vladimir’s eyes widened. He dropped the lunchbox and hurried to France.

Without thinking, Vladimir scooped France into his arms—bridal style—and bolted out of the classroom.

“I’m taking you to the clinic!”

“W-what the hell, Vladimir?! Put me down!” France hissed, hiding his face behind his hands.

“No,” Vladimir said firmly, running down the hallway. “You’re hurt.”

Students in the hallway turned to stare, some of them giggling or gasping. France, mortified, wanted to sink into the ground.

—

Later that day...

“Mom! Sophia!”

I arrived at the restaurant where Mom and Sophia were waiting. They had asked me to meet them, but I was terribly late.

They both stood to greet me, giving kisses on the cheek.

“We thought something happened to you,” Sophia said, checking her phone. “You never run late. I was about to call Fabian.”

“I had to cook lunch for France and drop it off at school,” I explained. “He didn’t go in this morning, and I didn’t want to leave him alone. Then traffic was horrible—and I didn’t realize my phone had died.”

I apologized profusely.

Mom just chuckled. “It’s fine, sweetheart.”

I had actually tried to move the meeting earlier to 7 a.m. because I knew I couldn’t leave France alone. They had agreed—and I still ended up late. I felt guilty.

“Sonia,” Sophia said with a laugh, “You’re a mom. Of course we understand.”

Mom smiled warmly. “Family comes first. We know that.”

“Thanks,” I said gratefully. “And don’t worry—no beans, right?”

They both laughed. They knew I hated beans.

They were celebrating the fact that I got the female lead role. We hadn’t celebrated last time because Sophia had been busy with her new shop, and Mom was away on a business trip.

“By the way, Mom,” I said, “I heard from Fabian about the upcoming Martinez family reunion. He mentioned you and Sophia are handling everything. Would it be okay if I helped?”

Sophia and Mom exchanged a look.

The reunion happened every three years. Fabian had mentioned I’d be invited, but I wanted to help—not just attend.

“Are you sure?” Sophia asked. “It’s a lot of work. Most daughters-in-law don’t even want to—”

I laughed. “You’ve both done so much for me. Even if I have to stay up overnight to help, I’ll do it.”

Mom smiled and reached for my hand. “Thank you, ija. I really appreciate it. This year’s reunion is extra stressful since it’ll be held at the mansion.”

“It’s okay, Mom,” I said. “I’ll be right there with you. And I’m sure Fabian won’t mind if I’m busy for a few days.”

“He’ll have no choice,” Sophia muttered. “That man doesn’t even let you do chores.”

I scratched my cheek awkwardly as they both laughed.

“Just explain it to your husband gently,” Mom added. “Your dad-in-law actually wanted the reunion at a hotel so I wouldn’t be stressed—but I insisted on the mansion. He got so annoyed, he slept in the living room for two nights.”

“What did you do, Mom?” I asked, curious.

She smiled sweetly. “I joined him on the sofa. We were squished, but by morning, we were both back in bed. All forgiven.”

“He’s still not happy about it, though,” she added.

Most of their past reunions were at hotels or resorts. This year, it was going to be different.

“Wait, Auntie—why did you agree to host it at your mansion?” Sophia asked. “Did you invite them?”

“No,” Mom replied bluntly. “They all insisted on it. Said they wanted a ‘change of scenery.’”

Then she leaned closer and whispered, “To be honest, I don’t like most of my husband’s relatives.”

She said nothing more after that and told us to eat.

After a while, Mom said she knew a new spa nearby and invited us to check it out. She also wanted a new hairstyle.

We were all in.

Sophia’s phone rang. She looked at the screen. “It’s Fabian,” she said, then handed me the phone.

“Fabian? What’s up?” I asked.

He laughed on the other end. “Your phone’s dead again, isn’t it?”

“Forgot to charge it,” I admitted with a wince.

“I’ll pick up France later. Be home before 9 p.m., okay? I’ll send the driver for you.”

My face lit up. “Thank you!”

“No problem. Enjoy, honey,” Fabian said before ending the call.

“He has a heart after all,” Sophia teased.

I grinned. “He told me once he only gives me a 7 p.m. curfew because he knows you won’t let me go home earlier unless he gives a set time.”

“He’s evil,” Sophia declared.

We only go out together occasionally, so yes, I have a curfew. Shopping, walking, relaxing—it’s exhausting sometimes.

“This iced coffee is amazing,” I commented, sipping from my glass.

“Well, well—look who it is. Sonia?”

My body went cold at the familiar voice.

Slowly, I turned around—and there they were.

Victoria and her mother. Victor’s twin sister. Victor’s mother.

Two of the people who had helped destroy my life and my family.

My ex-in-laws.