She leaned in closer, savoring the scent of baby Sam before placing a gentle kiss on his chubby cheek. He was fast asleep in her arms, exhausted from crying during the pediatrician's appointment. Sam had insisted on her presence, clinging to her throughout the examination while she comforted him with soft coos and soothing murmurs as the doctor attended to him.

"You love him like he's yours," Otis remarked from the driver's seat, meeting Jema's eyes through the rearview mirror.

"Shh, you'll wake him," Jema replied, placing her finger to her lips to quiet Otis. Despite this, she smiled in acknowledgment of Otis's observation.

It was true—Jema loved Sam deeply as if he were her child. She longed for him to be hers, imagining the joy of witnessing his milestones: crawling, teething, taking his first steps, and eventually growing into a fine young man. She yearned for mornings spent preparing breakfast for him at the kitchen island, waving goodbye as he headed off to school, and eagerly awaiting his return to hear stories about his day. Jema envisioned Sam becoming the heartthrob of his school, hoping he inherited most of his father's appealing traits—except for the brooding demeanor and perpetual frown.

Despite experiencing significant losses at a young age, Jema had learned not to indulge in dreams of happy endings or lasting peace. She understood that life could change in an instant, destroying everything she had built. It was a hard lesson to accept, especially when she looked at the infant in her arms and couldn't help but envision a world of fantasies—a utopia where they were safe from enemies, where she was his birth mother, and where she could witness his growth without fear of separation or job loss. The idea of losing her connection with him filled her with dread, longing to secure her place in his life.

As they drove home, passing a playground where children joyfully loitered with their families and pets, Jema was reminded of the profound responsibilities of parenthood. It was something she had desired with Jacob; she cherished the idea, igniting hope in her heart to build a family with him. However, Jacob's demeanor had shifted after discussing parenthood, claiming suddenly that he had to leave for a job.

This rejection had left Jema heartbroken, the memory of Jacob's initial enthusiasm contrasting sharply with his subsequent coldness and excuses. It was a painful reminder of how fragile dreams could be, especially those involving family and lasting happiness.

She had prodded him, coaxing Jacob to share his deepest fears, only to have him disappear in the middle of the night, leaving her alone and cold in their bed.

"Is something wrong, ma?" Otis's voice shook Jema out of her somber thoughts.

Jema wondered why he asked, but as she prepared to respond, she realized why. Her voice was heavy, her words reluctant to come out. "I'm fine, Otis, just reminiscing about someone from the past," she managed to reply, and he handed her a tissue to wipe her wet face.

"Fiona left me," Otis blurted out, blinking awkwardly.

"I heard. I'm so sorry to hear that," Jema offered a sad smile to the quirky man before her. It seemed to have taken a great deal of effort for him to share such personal details, evident in the way he shifted uncomfortably in his seat as if the admission pained him deeply. "I always thought you guys would overcome everything together."

"We would have. I would have if she stayed," Otis replied, his voice heavy with regret.

"But she didn't. Why?" Jema inquired gently.

He hesitated, his fists clenching tightly on the steering wheel as he guided them toward home. "She chose money over me," he admitted bitterly.

"Oh, man. She doesn't deserve you then," Jema replied emphatically.

"Why not?" Otis challenged.

Jema couldn't believe it—Otis was asking her why his ex, who left him for another wealthy man, didn't deserve him.

"Because anyone who leaves a good relationship for money will never find true happiness. You'll just end up with another jerk who has money and a nasty attitude that might get you hurt in the end. It doesn't make sense!" Jema exclaimed, her frustration evident.

"She still loves me, I know it. We wanted different things," Otis added, his tone resigned.

"How sure are you?... that she's not with anyone else?"

"I know her, she loves me."

"Oh—" Baby Sam stirred in her arms, interrupting her last words. "Hey, look who's awake after causing a ruckus at the hospital," Jema said playfully to the infant.

"Does he understand you?" Otis asked, glancing at them through the rearview mirror.

"I hope so. It's been said that babies can understand what we tell them; we just have to keep at it for a while before they do. They're smart," Jema replied, her eyes fixed on Sam. "And so is he," she added with a smile.

"We're here," Otis announced as the car came to a stop. He quickly exited and rushed to assist Jema, but Madame Evana appeared out of nowhere and yanked open the door for her.

"Thanks," Jema said, eyeing the older woman cautiously before stepping out of the car with baby Sam in her arms.

"Nurse Lilian will take him to his nursery," Madame Evana announced, signaling for Otis to carry the remaining items upstairs. Jema paused as she saw the beautiful nurse approaching with her hands open, ready to receive baby Sam.

"I can take him," Jema insisted, but Madame Evana was firm, flashing a piece of paper at her. "We need to talk," she said sternly.

After a moment of hesitation, Jema reluctantly handed baby Sam over to the nurse, who smiled down at him and whispered soothing words, much like she had during their ride home. Jema felt a pang of longing as she noticed how easily Sam seemed to warm up to Nurse Lilian, showing no signs of fussiness. Instead, he eagerly grasped at her blond hair as if he had been waiting to hold onto it.

Jema followed Madame Evana inside and towards the west side of the mansion. "What did you need to talk about? I'm famished," Jema spoke, coming to a halt and refusing to follow like a docile follower. It was no secret that she and Madame Evana had not been on the same page, both before and after Jema's return to the mansion. Madame Evana had sneered at Jema, pinning her with an intimidating gaze and making her disdain clear. She wanted Jema gone from the mansion and out of their lives for good. The last incident should have been the breaking point, or so Madame Evana had hoped until the master returned home and instructed her to clean out the nursery and Jema's room and Martha to take over Jema's meals and ensure she was well-fed.

"My first request still stands. Second, a puppy for baby Sam, quality time with the master and his son, and permission to return home and bury—" Madame Evana began to read aloud.

"Stop!" Jema interjected before Madame Evana could finish reading. Her face flushed with anger. "Why do you have that? You weren't supposed to see it—it wasn't meant for you!" Jema seethed, struggling to maintain her composure.

"It wasn't enough that you've taken charge of serving him breakfast? Now you audaciously request him to spend family time with you and baby Sam!" Madame Evana bellowed furiously. "Do you think you're his family, Jema? Do you believe you have the right to make such requests of the master—"

Once again, Jema cut her off. "I don't think that! He asked me to. I wouldn't dare cross that line if he hadn't given his approval."

"You think he blurred the lines?" Madame Evana's sunken face contorted with condescension as she challenged Jema. "Good heavens, a dog!" she scoffed. "And what was the first request about, hmm?"

"It's none of your business," Jema retorted.

"It is in every way my business, you ungrateful wench! You need to know your place, Jema. You're just a mere farm girl with an ugly past. Theodore might have been grateful to you for saving his son, but don't think for a second he's the man of your dreams. I see the way you look at him," Madame Evana snapped, surprising Jema to the core. "You can't deny you want him. That ideal, picturesque family you dream of having as your own—it's not within your reach, Jen." She emphasized the name, knowing how much it upset Jema to hear her name used incorrectly. "I've seen him date accomplished women whom you could never measure up to. A pair of their nice heels could pay off your family's debt," she seethed, inching closer. She bent slightly, her eyes daring as she shook her head at Jema. "He's way above you, dear, and you're just here," Madame Evana gestured to the bare floor. "Far apart," she added.

Jema blinked rapidly, hoping that Madame Evana's words wouldn't affect her. She stood there, tongue-tied, watching a woman old enough to be her mother tear her down and rubbish her name like it meant nothing. "Well, you're right about all that," she finally agreed, wetting her lips. "I can never measure up, but I'll take my chances," Jema whispered, ready to leave, but Madame Evana's next words stopped her in her tracks.

"I want you to leave this mansion. I want you to quit your job and return to Hartwood first thing tomorrow morning. Don't leave any letters for the master, don't say goodbye to baby Sam, just disappear like you did the last time and never set foot here again."

"Why would I do that? Huh? Why would I forsake a motherless child whom I've come to love and cherish?" Jema countered.

"You didn't think this the first time you left, so why now?" Madame Evana retorted.

"I made a mistake! But I came back for him. Honestly, Madame, I don't want to fight with you. We can't be enemies while raising a child together, it's toxic for him."

"That's why you should leave. How much do you want? Just say it and be on your way. I'll be his mother; I'll nurse him myself without your help, so just disappear!"

Jema stared at her feet, her heart filled with bitter sorrow at the thought of leaving baby Sam. She wasn't sure she could bear another loss. "I can't," she shook her head and looked directly at Madame Evana. "Theo wants me here, and that's all that matters!"
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Again, Madame strives too hard. Do you think she should let it rest?