CHAPTER 52: CHAPTER 52: A SMALL HOME

Jean Ellison stood up, meeting Jules Ellison’s gaze, her back as straight as a rod.

"Go ahead, cousin."

"First, we’ve instilled great habits in Jesse, a regular routine, and a fine-tuned diet. I hope you don’t take shortcuts and slack off. The child is still growing."

Jules’s tone carried a note of command.

"I am her mother, and of course, I will take good care of her daily needs, giving her the best that I can offer."

Jean’s voice was clear and firm.

"The best?" Jules seemed to hear a joke, her eyes scanning the small room again, sneering, "Just with this?"

"Fine, let’s move to the second point. Jesse is soon reaching school age. On our side, the best international bilingual primary school has reserved a spot for her. The environment and faculty are top-notch."

She paused, her gaze sharp and directed at Jean.

"And here? Ha, your old, shabby little apartment isn’t a school district house. What good schools could be nearby? Don’t ruin the child’s future. You need to quickly figure this out. Don’t think winning a lawsuit means everything is settled. Schooling is the most important thing."

Jean’s hand, quietly at her side, clenched.

A school district house is indeed her current weakness, also Jules’s most effective weapon against her.

The old apartment she rented mapped to a very ordinary public elementary school.

"Thank you for the reminder, cousin."

Jean didn’t avoid the issue, her tone calm.

"As for Jesse’s schooling, I, as her mother, will of course keep it in mind and will do my best to get her the finest educational environment. No need for you to worry."

She intentionally emphasized "I, as her mother."

Jules was momentarily choked by this gentle yet firm retort, and her face darkened.

"Jean Ellison, what attitude is this? I’m only concerned for Jesse’s wellbeing. You think I want to bother with this? It’s only because I’m afraid you’re not capable enough and will delay the child. You just got back custody, but you have nothing, not even a decent place to live. How are you going to ’figure it out’? Don’t pretend to be something you’re not."

"I appreciate your good intentions, cousin."

Jean’s tone remained calm, even tinged with a hint of distant politeness.

"But Jesse is my daughter. Her life and future should be planned and supported by me, her mother. No matter my current situation, I will be thoroughly responsible for her."

"You!"

Jules was so infuriated by Jean’s subtly sharp words that her face turned pale, her meticulously painted eyebrows arching high.

"Jean Ellison, after a few years of not seeing you, you sure have become much more sharp-tongued. Fine, I won’t interfere anymore. I really want to see how you’re going to be responsible, how you’ll give her ’the best.’ Don’t come crying back to me when you run out of options."

"Rest assured, cousin." Jean’s voice cooled, "No matter how difficult, it’s a path Jesse and I will walk together. Goodbye."

The request for visitors to leave was issued abruptly and decisively.

Jules’s chest heaved several times, clearly very annoyed.

She glared fiercely at Jean, bent down, and instantly her face was covered with a gentle smile, speaking to Jesse.

"Jesse, darling, mommy is leaving, remember mommy’s words. If you miss home, come back anytime. Mommy will be waiting for you at home. Here... if you’re uncomfortable, don’t suffer silently, alright?"

As she spoke, she meaningfully patted the new little suitcase.

Jesse looked at Jules, then at Jean standing aside, plainly dressed yet with a resolute expression, slight confusion on her small, furrowed brow.

Ultimately, she only nodded, saying softly.

"Goodbye, mommy."

Jules straightened up, gave Jean one last scornful look, snorted, and with a quick stride on her expensive high heels, turned around and walked out, forcefully closing the door behind her.

A loud bang shook the old walls, as if dust fell from them.

The moment the door closed, the small living room suddenly fell into silence.

The air seemed to still bear Jules’s strong perfume scent and her overbearing aura.

Jean stood on the spot, her back to the door, her shoulders barely discernibly slumped a bit, as if releasing a thousand pounds of burden.

She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled, trying to steady her turbulent emotions.

She turned around, looking at the small figure in the middle of the room.

Jesse still clutched her small suitcase as if it were her important anchor.

She stood there, unmoving, her big dark eyes unblinkingly fixed on Jean.

In that gaze, there was no longer the bewilderment and compliance when facing Jules, nor the initial aloofness. Instead, it was filled with curiosity, exploration, and even a slight cautious expectation.

Jean’s heart instantly melted.

She squatted down again, this time with movements softer, carrying a near-reverent closeness.

"Jesse," her voice was extremely low, extremely gentle, afraid to disturb anything, "Are you hungry? Can mommy... make you something to eat?"

She tentatively asked, nervously observing her daughter’s reaction.

Jesse didn’t immediately answer. Her gaze shifted from Jean’s face, starting to seriously scrutinize this small, entirely unfamiliar home.

Her eyes scanned the surroundings.

In some places, the wallpaper was slightly peeling, exposing the dull color beneath, but the walls had several cute cartoon animal stickers that Jean had put up a few days ago, trying to add a touch of childlike fun.

Jesse’s gaze lingered on the stickers for a while.

The windows were the old-style wooden frames, the glass cleaned very meticulously, with simple cotton-linen curtains half-drawn, showing the old balcony railings outside and the neighbor’s drying clothes.

A small fabric sofa, covered with a faded plaid cover, looked soft.

A small folding dining table stood against the wall, draped with a clean blue and white checkered tablecloth.

Beside it was a low natural wood cabinet topped with a glass bottle containing a few white daisies, a small jar of fruit candies, and a cookie tin with a bear pattern.

The floor wasn’t smooth tiles or wooden planks but slightly worn dark composite flooring, yet cleanly swept, wouldn’t feel cold underfoot.

In the corner were a few unopened boxes of toys and picture books, waiting to be organized.

Jesse’s gaze slowly and carefully swept over every corner.

She didn’t see the cold, echoing "home" she remembered, nor the uniformed maids who always followed her carefully, making her uncomfortable.