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.
âWhatâs the matter, Hayes?â
The boyâs face drooped, and with a struggle, he managed to speak, âDaddyâs hurt⦠Iâm worried about him⦠I want⦠to find himâ¦â
âYou want to go with him?â
He eagerly nodded in agreement.
Marguerite was at a loss. âBut your daddyâs already left, sweetie!â
âCall him⦠back⦠or maybe, we can call Mr. Chuckâ¦â
That was a bit of a pickle. She knew that Frederick was off to dig into the last nightâs shooting. And with his way of handling things, there was bound to be a bloody aftermathâno place for a little boy like Hayes.
As Hayes reached for his childâfriendly phone to dial Chuck, Marguerite instinctively grasped his small hand, saying, âHow about I go find him for you? Will that make you feel better? You stay here, okay?â
A hint of confusion flickered in Hayesâ worried eyes. He wanted to see his daddy safe with his own eyes, but Margueriteâs words brought him a strange sense of comfort.
Teresaâs mommy was trustworthy, and if she went, she would get to spend time with daddy too.
With that thought, Hayes didnât hesitate to nod.
Marguerite tenderly ruffled his hair and gently instructed, âIf you get scared, go find Teresa or grandma.
Wait at home for my good news, okay?â
Hayesâ 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 Margueriteâs 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 Hayesâ slender silhouette with clenched teeth and seething anger.
Why was this little brat still alive? Why hadnât he just died?
For three years, every sight of the child reminded her of Marguerite, that wretched woman! She hadnât had a momentâs peace, always on edge for fear that one slipâup would reveal Hayesâ real identity.
Why did he have to be as tenacious as Marguerite, even escaping Barnesâ bullet?
But if she wanted him dead, he had no right to live!
The only woman by Frederickâs side would be her! No one would threaten her hardâwon 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 Margueriteâs 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 Yunaâs face. In the meantime, she had quietly approached the terrace, her hand inching closer to Hayesâ frail shoulderâ¦.