CHAPTER SEVEN — A Fresh Start

It took me a while to find Patricia Allen’s phone.

It had been flung across the room during the argument, hitting the floor and sliding under one of the sofas.

When I finally pulled it out, the screen was cracked beyond repair. I pressed the power button anyway, but nothing happened.

I sighed and dropped it back onto the sofa, folding my arms as I tried to assess my situation.

Three children.

I had three children now.

I’d never taken care of kids before. I’d been too focused on my company to even think about starting a family. And yet, here I was living in someone else’s rundown apartment, suddenly responsible for three small lives.

The place was a disaster.

When I opened the kitchen cupboards, a rat darted out, making me jump. Everything inside was either empty or filthy. It didn’t take long to realize where most of Patricia Allen’s money had gone to…alcohol. Not even food for the children.

She’d been living in one of the roughest parts of the city, a crumbling apartment complex in a dangerous neighborhood. It was a one bedroom, one bathroom. The walls were cracked, the air stale. Living there was one thing, but living there without even trying to take care of it… that was another.

My stomach growled. I pressed my hand against it, frowning, then turned toward the bedroom Patricia had shared with her kids. I paused at the door, trying to think of what to say before knocking twice.

“…Billy, open the door.”

There was silence for a few seconds before I heard the soft click of a lock. The door creaked open to reveal a small boy with wide, tear-stained eyes staring up at me.

He couldn’t have been more than five. But he looked younger as he was thin and pale as if he hadn’t been eating well.

I glanced into the room and saw a baby sleeping on a dirty comforter on the floor. My chest tightened.

I looked back down at the boy. “Are you hungry?”

Billy blinked, confusion crossing over his face, as if he wasn’t sure he’d heard me right.

I didn’t wait for an answer. I stepped inside, bent down, and carefully picked up little Gracie. She stirred slightly in my arms, cooing uncomfortably. I checked her quickly to see if she was dry, or had any fever. “Put on your shoes,” I said softly to Billy. “We’re going out.”

Still looking unsure, he nodded and turned to obey. I walked out, rocking Gracie gently as I searched for something to wear. I spotted a pair of worn flats near the door and slipped them on.

Grabbing the thick envelope from the floor, I counted out five hundred dollars and tucked the rest under the bed.

Then I took Billy’s hand. It was small, trembling slightly, but he didn’t pull away.

“Come on,” I whispered.

We stepped out of the apartment, and I locked the door behind us.

I hadn’t even taken a step forward when a nasal voice called out.

“Patty! Where are you off to again? After that fight with your daughter, you should’ve taught her a lesson! Kids like that need to be shown who’s boss. You’re the head of the house now that your husband’s gone, don’t let her walk all over you!”

Another voice joined in.

“Oh, please, Sarah. Even when her husband was alive, those children were wild. If they were mine, I’d lock them in a dark room until they learned respect. That’s the only way they’ll listen.”

Beside me, Billy’s small hand tightened in mine. His fingers trembled, and he took a hesitant step back as if he thought I might actually agree with them.

I squeezed his hand gently, giving him a look that said stay still.

He froze, his wide eyes watching me anxiously.

When I turned to face the two women, Patricia Allen’s memories made them recognizable almost immediately. Sarah and Karen, Patricia Allen’s neighbors and so-called “friends.” Women who spent their days gossiping and spreading rumors about everyone in the building and pretending it was advice. The former Patricia had always tried to impress them and had always listened to their “advice” on how to train children. Advice that the two women didn’t even follow themselves.

I tilted my head and turned to Billy. And said loud enough for the entire hallway to hear, “Billy, from now on, we’re going to take dental hygiene very seriously in our house. Do you know why?”

Billy blinked, caught off guard, his little brow furrowing. “Um… no, Mom?” he sniffled.

I bent down a bit, meeting his big brown eyes. “Because if you don’t brush your teeth properly, when you grow up, your mouth will be so rotten that everything you say will be trash. You don’t want that, do you?”

Billy’s eyes went wide, and he shook his head quickly, his soft curls bouncing.

“No, Mom! I don’t want that!”

I almost laughed. Reaching out instinctively to ruffle his hair, I stopped midway, remembering that this poor boy probably hadn’t had a proper bath in days. My hand hovered for a second before I pulled it back with a faint smile.

“Good boy.”

Straightening, I adjusted Gracie in my arms and walked past the two women brushing my shoulders deliberately against theirs. I didn’t even bother to look back to enjoy their shocked expressions.

It seemed that after dying, my patience for people had drastically lessened.

In this life, I was going to say and do whatever I wanted without apology or restraint.

Outside, the morning air hit me, heavy with smoke and the scent of street food. My stomach growled again, loud enough that Billy glanced up nervously. I frowned and scanned the street until I spotted the only half-decent restaurant in sight.

Without thinking twice, I headed straight for it.

The bell above the door chimed as we stepped in. A young waitress turned toward us with a smile that fell the moment she took in our appearance. Her eyes went from my messy hair to Billy’s torn shirt to the baby sleeping in my arms. It was then I remembered that I hadn’t even cleaned the blood from the side of my head.

Her expression worsened.

“The free charity breakfast isn’t until Sunday,” she said, her tone anything but polite.

I raised an eyebrow. “Then it’s a good thing we didn’t come for that. Is there a table?”

For a moment, she looked like she wanted to argue, but instead she pressed her lips together and gestured toward the back of the restaurant.

“This way.”

We followed her to a small corner booth. I helped Billy climb onto his chair before sitting down myself, settling Gracie who was now slowly waking up on my lap.

Billy fidgeted, his little hands twisting together as his eyes darted around the restaurant. He looked like he wanted to say something but lost the courage halfway through and lowered his head instead.

I glanced at him, then back to the menu, pretending not to notice the curious looks from nearby tables.

When the waitress returned, pen and pad in hand, I spoke before she could.

“I’ll have a plate of grilled chicken, mashed potatoes, and vegetables with coffee. For my son, scrambled eggs and toast with a cup of apple juice. And for the baby mashed potatoes and a cup of milk, please.”

The waitress hesitated, her pen pausing midair as if she couldn’t believe I was actually ordering that much food.

I met her eyes calmly. “That’ll be all.”

The kids hadn’t eaten properly in days that much was obvious. It was better to start them off light now and something heavier for dinner later. Their stomachs needed time to remember what real food felt like before I fattened them up.

For now… this was enough.