A white sedan rolled up behind them, looking all too familiar.
Timmy rubbed his eyes. “Donna, I think that’s Dad’s car.”
Donna, taller and with a better view than Timmy, had already spotted Clive’s white Bentley coming their way. Without missing a beat, she casually stepped to the side, blocking Timmy’s view.
“You’re seeing things, kiddo. Your dad’s probably at home right now, hanging out with his fiancée, Ms. Watts. Why would he come here?”
Timmy scratched his head, thinking it over. Donna’s explanation made sense.
Dad wouldn’t come to the hospital this early just to see Mom. If he cared that much, they wouldn’t be divorced. It must’ve just been a car that looked like his.
“Come on, Timmy. Your mom’s waiting.” Donna grabbed his hand and hurried him inside, quietly hoping Clive wouldn’t catch up.
But of course, the universe had other plans. Just as they reached the elevator, Clive’s voice echoed from behind them—persistent as always.
“Donna. Timmy.”
Timmy recognized that voice instantly. He turned around, eyes wide, and tugged Donna’s hand.
“Donna! It really is Dad!”
Donna said nothing, her face falling.
Timmy hadn’t seen his dad in days and, being a kid, he couldn’t hide how happy he was. He let go of Donna’s hand and dashed over, wrapping his arms around Clive.
“Dad, are you here to see Mom? Why didn’t you shave or wear something nice?” Then Timmy noticed a dried reddish stain on Clive’s cuff. “Dad, did you get hurt?”
There was real worry in his voice.
Clive glanced at his sleeve, remembering the blood from helping Kristen into the car last night.
“It’s nothing, champ. Just a little paint I brushed up against.” He smiled softly at Timmy, then looked up at Donna.
Donna’s face was all ice as she muttered, “Salmeron.”
Clive didn’t seem bothered by her cold greeting. He was carrying a fancy thermos lunchbox and a bunch of yellow roses.



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