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Days had gone by since I'd last been at C.I. It'd been about 3 days after my bitter exchange with Luke and Laurel. They had stolen my sleep and peace of mind. I would watch my son go to bed every night and watch him wake without getting proper sleep. Every time I tried to sleep, I heard Laurel's voice, continuously repeating that she was expecting Luke's child.

"Talk to me. I understand you're hurt, but you shouldn't be." Lydia says, as she enters the kitchen.

"Hi. Good morning." I say, sipping my cup of warm water, lemon and honey.

"Good morning, and again, thank you for letting me crash here. Honestly, I've stayed longer than I planned to, and that I should."

"No, no. I enjoy your company. This is your house too, and you love my son and he loves you too."

Lydia smiles at me. I smile at her too. Lydia was like a caged butterfly. She didn't deserve to be with David. She deserved happiness. She deserved someone as wild and loving as she was.

"Why are you hurt, really?"

"Maybe I'm hurt because he rejected my son and he's accepting the son of that. . .thing."

"Are you sure? Is that the real reason? The only reason?"

"No." I say as I begin to sob. "I'm hurt because I love him, and the fact that he's moving on and starting a new family with someone else is killing me. Louis and I should be his family. The only consolation I have is that I know how much of a monster he is. He and Laurel are the perfect match and you know what? I'm going to stop talking about him. I don't want to talk about this." I say, wiping my eyes. I drink my lemon-honey mixture.

"I understand." Lydia says. She continues, "The decor team'll be here shortly. Tomorrow's our baby's big day, remember?"

"I know." I say as I nod. "I'm so excited, it's almost as though it's my birthday." I giggle excitedly.

A few hours later..

I'm in my bedroom, trying to watch some television. Ashley's with Louis and Lydia's in the living room with the people decorating the house.

I'd remembered my tiff with aunt Ruth and I didn't feel comfortable about it. It would be the first time I'd gotten into an argument with her. I pick up my phone and text her.

To: Aunt Ruth; Forgive me. Please attend Louis' birthday tomorrow, it won't be complete without you.

I hoped she would respond to my message, but she never did.

**

"Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday, happy birthday, happy birthday to you!" I sing as I hold my son, dancing around the room. As usual, he had a smile on his face.

"Heh." I take out his pacifier as I clean his mouth with my shirt. "How old are you today, baby? You're one. Say one." I say, as I raise my index finger up. He begins to mumble words I find hard to understand.

"In a few months or even a year, you'll be able to talk to mommy well. We'll have super long conversations, right, monkey?" I ask him as though he would reply me. "Your nappy's full, baby." I say. "I need to potty train you. You're becoming a big boy, aren't you?"

Lydia comes in with Ashley and the cook. "Where's my godson?"

"Happy birthday Lou-Lou!" Ashley says, blowing the party horn.

"I see you're all ready, well, except the birthday boy." I say, as I hold his chin. Delores waves at Louis.

"Well? Go on, give him a bath. We're waiting and in a few hours, our guests will be here."

***

I made sure Louis had all the nice things I had, ranging from designer toys to clothes. I'd dressed him in a custom made Gucci shirt and trousers.

"You might have your daddy's face, but you sure are stylish like your mommy." I say as I brush his blonde hair excitedly. I carry him up from the bed and head over to the living room. I needed to get dressed.

"Woah. This is amazing." I say, as I scan my living room now turned into a mini zoo-aquarium. It was beautiful. The living room was extremely large so the space gave it a more realistic vibe. I notice Louis slapping my breasts. I look at him. "Aht, aht, aht. No, sir. You're not getting any breast milk. Heck, I've run out of breast milk. Louis, you're one today, you can't have breast milk for the rest of your life, my love." As though he understands what I'm saying, he begins to cry. His pacifier drops, but I catch it on-time before it touches the floor.

Ashley comes in. "Let me hold him."

"Thanks. So, any progress? Have you found somewhere you like?"

"Yes, well, I found two places. I really like them, but I'm having a hard time choosing one." She says.

"Okay, do you want my help? What are your choices?"

"There's Dakota High and there's Springfield. I just happen to like both, you know? There's really no difference except for the fact that Dakota and Springfield are long time enemies."

"Dakota High? No, please. Definitely not."

"Why?"

"Well, Dakota High was the high school I went to before I went to college, and I must say, it's a toxic area."

"That was your school?"

"Yes, and it's not a pretty place. I don't know, times have changed but I'm just telling you from my experience. Besides, only the children of the extremely rich go to Dakota High. I mean, don't get me wrong, I'll foot your bills, but when people find out you actually work here, it won't be pretty. I'd advise you go to Springfield."

"Then it's settled. Thank you, Ms. Richardson. You've been so good to me."

"No, thank you. Thank you for caring for my son because I know most of the time I'm not home. I'm grateful for that."

"Honestly, no one has ever done so much for me. When I was 9 my foster mom kicked me out. Same story when I was 12, until my foster dad died. I spent most of my time in an orphanage where I was treated like trash until I met you. It's been a year."

"That's true, but what about your real parents? Don't you know anything about them?"

"No, I don't. I honestly don't even remember most of my childhood. I only just woke up one morning and found myself in the backseat of a car. In a junkyard. That's as far as I remember."

"Do you remember if you had siblings? Do you have a momento? A photo? A pendant?" I ask her.

"Well, I do have a necklace and my doll."

"If we can just find where the necklace was bought and by whom, I think we can find your family, Ashley."

"No." She says, looking sad.

"Why? You can always talk to me, Ashley."

"Because, they're dead." She responds, looking at me.

"Why would you say that? How do you know that?"

"Because I have nightmares. I see them die." Her response sends chills down my spine. Whatever Ashley went through must've been one hell of an experience. I couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

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