No sooner had Frederick left the room than Hayes dashed to the terrace, pressing his small frame against the window ledge to peer outside with earnest longing in his eyes.
It was then that Marguerite noticed Frederick left from the back door of their sprawling suburban home and into a gleaming new Maybach. The car from last night, stained with the remnants of a violent encounter, had already been disposed of by Chuck in the dead of night.
The engine roared to life and the man was gone, prompting Hayes to point his tiny finger towards the slowly disappearing car before turning back to Marguerite with an urgent, stirring gaze. It was clear he was desperately trying to convey something.
“What’s the matter, Hayes?”
The boy’s face drooped, and with a struggle, he managed to speak, “Daddy’s hurt… I’m worried about him… I want… to find him…”
“You want to go with him?”
He eagerly nodded in agreement.
Marguerite was at a loss. “But your daddy’s already left, sweetie!”
“Call him… back… or maybe, we can call Mr. Chuck…”
That was a bit of a pickle. She knew that Frederick was off to dig into the last night’s shooting. And with his way of handling things, there was bound to be a bloody aftermath–no place for a little boy like Hayes.
As Hayes reached for his child–friendly phone to dial Chuck, Marguerite instinctively grasped his small hand, saying, “How about I go find him for you? Will that make you feel better? You stay here, okay?”
A hint of confusion flickered in Hayes‘ worried eyes. He wanted to see his daddy safe with his own eyes, but Marguerite’s words brought him a strange sense of comfort.
Teresa’s mommy was trustworthy, and if she went, she would get to spend time with daddy too.
With that thought, Hayes didn’t hesitate to nod.
Marguerite tenderly ruffled his hair and gently instructed, “If you get scared, go find Teresa or grandma. Wait at home for my good news, okay?”
Hayes‘ eyes brightened as he quickly nodded again.
With that, Marguerite grabbed the car keys and swiftly left the house.
The little boy remained perched on the terrace railing, watching Marguerite’s yellow car vanish into the distance, his gaze lingering long after she was gone. But innocent Hayes had no idea that his small figure on the terrace had already caught the attention of Yuna.
He was even more oblivious to the fact that, at that moment, home was actually the most dangerous place to be.
Yuna stared at Hayes‘ slender silhouette with clenched teeth and seething anger.
Why was this little brat still alive? Why hadn’t he just died?
For three years, every sight of the child reminded her of Marguerite, that wretched woman! She hadn’t had a moment’s peace, always on edge for fear that one slip–up would reveal Hayes‘ real identity.
Why did he have to be as tenacious as Marguerite, even escaping Barnes‘ bullet?
But if she wanted him dead, he had no right to live!
The only woman by Frederick’s side would be her! No one would threaten her hard–won status!
Hatred swiftly consumed Yuna.
She would make sure Hayes Winston met his end in the most tragic way possible!
She would push him off! And now was undoubtedly the best chance!
In Marguerite’s room, she could push him without anyone seeing her! Then, Marguerite too would never have peace!
With these thoughts, a twisted, malevolent smile spread across Yuna’s face. In the meantime, she had quietly approached the terrace, her hand inching closer to Hayes‘ frail shoulder….