Immune To The Billionaire's Toxic Regret

The following evening at 6:00 p.m. Kendal parked her black Volvo SUV along the curb outside an elite, ivy-covered private preparatory school. She turned off the engine, picked up the plastic Transformer toy from the passenger seat, and pushed her door open.

The crisp wind caught the edges of her tan trench coat as she stepped onto the sidewalk. The school's heavy wrought-iron gates were open, and students in sharp navy-blue uniforms were pouring out onto the street.

Kendal stood near the trunk of a massive oak tree. Her eyes scanned the sea of blue blazers, searching for one specific face.

A few moments later, she spotted him. Ten-year-old Freddie Beach was walking slowly, his head down, kicking a dead leaf along the pavement. He looked small and isolated amidst the noisy crowd.

The hard edges of Kendal's eyes melted into absolute softness. She raised her hand and called his name, her voice carrying over the chatter.

Freddie's head snapped up. The moment he saw her, his face lit up. He broke into a run, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, and launched himself at her.

Kendal dropped to a crouch. She caught him perfectly, wrapping her arms tightly around his small frame. She squeezed him hard, then pulled back and handed him the Transformer toy.

Thirty feet away, a black Maybach with tinted windows pulled silently to the curb.

Gus Kowalski, the elderly butler and driver for the Thomas family, stepped out of the driver's seat. He walked around the back of the car to open the door for young Buddy.

As Gus reached for the door handle, his eyes drifted toward the oak tree.

His hand froze mid-air.

He blinked hard, his wrinkled eyelids fluttering as he stared at the woman crouching on the sidewalk. He looked at her profile, the way her hair fell, the curve of her smile.

"Young... Young Madam?" Gus gasped. The words tore from his throat, loud and trembling.

The title hit Kendal's back like a whip. Her spine snapped straight. The smile vanished from her face instantly.

She stood up slowly and turned around. She locked eyes with Gus. The old man's face was pale, his eyes wide with shock and filling with rapid tears.

Gus took two shaky steps forward. He raised his trembling hands, stammering that it was a miracle, thanking God she was alive.

Kendal's thumb dug viciously into her index knuckle. She took a step backward, physically positioning her body in front of Freddie, shielding the boy from Gus's view.

She stared at the old man and stated in a voice made of absolute ice that there was no Young Madam here, only Kendal Butler.

At that exact moment, Buddy walked out of the school gates. He wore the same navy-blue uniform. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Kendal standing with Gus.

Buddy looked at Kendal. Then he looked at the boy hiding behind her legs.

Freddie felt the stare. He peeked out from behind Kendal's coat, his eyes narrowing defensively at Buddy. He grabbed a fistful of Kendal's trench coat and tugged at her coat, asking why the other boy was crying and staring at them.

Kendal reached down and placed a comforting hand over Freddie's fingers. She looked at Buddy. She saw the devastating hurt pooling in her son's eyes, but she forced her heart to turn to stone.

She looked back at Gus. She ordered him to stop this ridiculous display and stated she wanted absolutely nothing to do with the Thomas family ever again.

Gus's eyes dropped to her left hand. He saw the massive diamond ring. He looked at the boy clinging to her coat. The tragic reality of the situation crashed down on the old man's shoulders.

Buddy watched his mother fiercely protect another boy while looking at him with total indifference. His chest heaved, and he dropped his gaze to his shoes to hide his tears.

Kendal forced herself to look away from Buddy's shaking shoulders. She grabbed Freddie's hand, turned her back on them, and walked quickly to her Volvo.

Gus let out a heavy, broken sigh. He walked over and gently placed his hand on Buddy's shoulder.

Kendal started the engine. She looked in the rearview mirror, watching the old man and the crying boy standing on the curb. Her stomach churned with acid. She slammed her foot on the gas pedal and sped away.