Raising a Snake? Not Again

My face burned. "Stuart said he'd pay it back... And Peter's getting married. I'll have more free time now. Worst case, I'll find a job."My friend didn't look convinced, but in the end, she lent me the money.Mumbling a quick thanks, I took it straight to Peter's new place—only to find a stranger there.Lily, usually so distant, was all smiles, chatting warmly with the woman.I'd met Lily's mother before. This wasn't her.Unease crawled up my spine.The woman patted Lily's hand, beaming. "Good, good. You're just like a daughter to me. If Peter ever gives you trouble, I'll make sure he behaves."Peter strolled out, his voice light, playful. "Mom, who's really your kid here?"I froze.The woman... looked just like Peter.A chill shot through me.***That day, I snapped. I screamed, demanded answers.Stuart rushed over—but instead of explaining, he shielded the woman behind him, his eyes cold with disgust.And Peter—the boy I raised, the son I gave everything to—stood besid

I caught the careful probe in his tone and let out a quiet laugh. A nasty little idea popped into my head.Forcing down my hatred, I softened my voice, layering in just the right amount of concern. "Me? I'm at the hospital... I'll be home later, don't wait for dinner... Oh, my phone's dying—ah, the doctor's calling. Gotta go!"I hung up without hesitation and shut off my phone, picturing the sheer panic on his face.He must've thought I found Peter and rushed Peter to the hospital.I suddenly realized how well I knew him. No way would he go back to where he left the kid—too risky. What if I had called the cops? What if officers were already there, looking for the baby's parents? If he showed up, how would he explain it?But as long as I didn't bring Peter home, he wouldn't be able to relax, either.It was the dead of winter.And when I finally strolled in, empty-handed, watching him squirm in uncertainty?That thought alone was delicious.***I stayed out until eight, finally leaving t

Stuart went on and on about how pitiful the kid was.A nearby nurse nodded. "That's right. I can't imagine what kind of heartless parents would dump a baby in the middle of winter."If he'd been brought in any later, he wouldn't have survived. Even now, his future looks bleak. His throat's so damaged he can't even cry properly—he may never speak."And after burning up with fever for three days... even if he's not brain-damaged, his development will—""Enough!" Stuart snapped, like she'd hit a nerve.Realizing his outburst, he forced a stiff apology before turning to me. "Elaine, I need to talk to you."He wanted to adopt the kid. Said he was too pitiful to be left alone.Then came the real reason—his latest medical report. Low sperm motility. Chances of having kids? Almost zero. This child showing up now? A gift from fate for the two of us.He said...My head buzzed.He'd fed me the same lies in my past life—just dressed up differently.His so-called infertility kept me from

"Busy? You already quit your job. What could you possibly be busy with? I give you two grand a month—isn't that more than enough?" Stuart's voice dripped with entitlement.How ironic.Stuart had always been a cheapskate. In my past life, even Peter's school supplies had come out of my pocket. Now that he didn't have me to leech off, parting with over a third of his measly five-thousand-a-month salary must've hurt. Not a shred of guilt or gratitude toward Rosie for raising his kid.My PI told me Stuart was stashing money for his boss's mother's birthday gift, hoping it'd land him a promotion.To pull it off, he even cut that woman's allowance—from three grand to two. Same as Peter's.I did the math. By the time the birthday rolled around, he'd have close to thirty grand saved up. Probably thought it was a game-changer.Too bad I knew the truth—his boss's wife came from old money. Twenty, thirty grand? Pocket change.In my past life, I'd handed Stuart a hundred grand for the gift,

Three hundred grand.Stuart couldn't scrape that together even if he sold himself.So, after years of radio silence—ever since I refused to adopt Peter—he finally swallowed his pride and came crawling back.His excuse? He needed money for a "gift" for his boss."If you don't trust me, I'll even write you an IOU!" He tried to sound confident, but his eyes darted, clearly hoping I'd be understanding enough to let it slide.I laughed and tossed the video in his face."Stuart, I'm divorcing you."And not just that—I was taking back every penny he'd spent on Peter and Carmen.Legally, my parents' inheritance was mine alone, including the house we lived in. But our salaries? Marital assets. Meaning in the divorce, we'd split them down the middle.I made a thousand less than him, so I'd even walk away with a little extra. Consider it pain and suffering compensation.Stuart must've felt his whole world caving in.On one side? Benson—a real ex-con with nothing to lose—waiting for his