Indeed, this is the moment she’ll exact vengeance on her spouse. A week ago, she overheard his conversation with his mistress, and that’s when her plan took shape…

I don’t know how to describe him. He’s a scoundrel and a villain, Miranda whispered. But I’ll deal with him and everyone associated with him later.

Right now, I want to see my girl. Vivian. The only thing I’m grateful to Kevin for is that he at least named our daughter as I asked.

Let’s go to the playroom, the children are there now. Ms. Barbara decisively stood up and headed towards the door. Miranda hurried after her.

In the playroom, there were about 20 children aged 3 to 6. Some were stacking blocks, others were drawing at the table, and the boys were playing with toy cars. One girl sat quietly in the corner, clutching a plush teddy bare to her chest. Miranda looked at her, and her heart squeezed.

How much this little girl resembled herself as a child. Just as slender, with a slightly upturned nose, her wheat-colored hair neatly braided in a thick braid. The only thing Miranda couldn’t discern was the color of her eyes, hidden behind thick glasses.

She has very poor eyesight, the woman exclaimed in horror. Her vision is rapidly deteriorating, sighed Ms. Barbara. But if we perform the surgery within the next couple of months, we can halt the myopia.

Ophthalmologists have given a favorable prognosis. In that case, we can restore her vision, not 100%, of course, as there’s still astigmatism. But it can be managed if we perform the surgery.

Can I approach her? Miranda whispered, her voice trembling. You can, but don’t reveal your true identity yet. You understand that the girl is already going through a lot.

She has poor eyesight and can’t play properly with the other children. She often cries, and now there’s this shock of her mother appearing and leaving again. You understand that I can’t give her to you.

I understand everything, Miranda said and took a step towards the girl. Hello, Vivian. Miranda crouched down next to the little girl.

My name is Aunt Miranda. Hello, the girl spoke softly and looked attentively at the unfamiliar woman. Are you our new caregiver? No, I’m a photographer, Miranda answered, swallowing the lump in her throat.

I want to take your picture. Are you okay, with that? Me, the girl exclaimed in surprise. But I… I… She sobbed and fell silent.

Oh, sweetheart, why are you upset? Miranda was surprised and gently stroked the girl’s head, noting how silky her hair was. And Vivian’s eyes were green with a yellow fleck, just like hers. Auntie, please don’t photograph me, Vivian whispered.

I’m ugly, you see. Who told you that? Miranda sat down on a small chair next to her and embraced the little girl. That’s not true.

Look at my glasses, all the kids laugh at me. And they call me names too. Don’t listen to them.

You are beautiful. I came here today just to choose a hero for my photo shoot, and soon I’ll be back with my camera. We’ll take amazing photos together, and everyone will be jealous.

Please, don’t do that, the others will cry. Instead, take pictures of all of us. Yes, you’re right, that’s what I’ll do.

It’s settled then. We’ll have a photo shoot soon. We will.

The boy who stood nearby had clearly eavesdropped on their conversation and started tugging at Miranda’s sleeve. Auntie, are you really coming to us? Are you telling the truth? Absolutely, Miranda smiled, trying to hide the tears welling up. I will definitely come and photograph all of you.

The boy immediately ran to inform everyone about the upcoming photo session. The excitement was palpable as all the children cheered, clapped their hands, and shouted in joy. Miranda gently stroked Vivian’s head once more, smiled at her, and headed towards the exit.

What have you done, the headmistress scolded her. I asked for quiet, without any fuss. And you? I just wanted to give the children a positive experience, Miranda defended herself.

To be honest, I came up with it on the spot. Well, is it really so bad if you end up with high-quality photographs? You can use them wherever you need. Well, okay.

You’ve convinced me. And most importantly, you’ll show me Vivian’s diagnosis and the cost. Provide me with the details and all.

I’ll try to address this issue as soon as possible. To be honest, Miranda didn’t know yet how she would solve the problem, but she had a strong sense that she would do what needed to be done. As she rode in the taxi, she recalled the girl’s face.

Yes, she was her little one. There was no need for any expertise. Angry thoughts overwhelmed her again.

How could Kevin treat her like this? Although, why was she surprised? After he had tried to poison her with medication, openly threatened her, after she overheard his conversations with his lover, and then that woman shamelessly came to their house, there was nothing left to be surprised about. And his mother? She was clearly aware of the situation with Vivian, and most likely, she was the instigator. To the maternity hospital, she asked the driver to change the route.

He cautiously glanced at Miranda but didn’t say anything, just nodded in response. She even smiled, but the smile quickly vanished from her face. Yes, she would never end up there for the same reason other women are brought in.

So what? She now had Vivian. And Miranda would do everything in her power to get her daughter back and heal her. Absolutely.

At the maternity hospital, she asked for a doctor named Mr. Peterson. She remembered that he was the head at the time. He was the one who had delivered the sad news to Miranda, and his stamp was on the documents Angelina had shown her.

Mr. Peterson is in his office, they told her at the reception. Can I go in? No, of course not, exclaimed a female medical worker. We’re not allowed to go to the wards.

Then fetch Mr. Peterson for me, Miranda demanded. It’s urgent. Her tone made the woman comply, and soon the head of the hospital descended.

Miranda felt that he recognized her. He even paled slightly. Miranda also remembered him perfectly well.

Yes, he was the doctor who told her about her daughter’s heart failure. Miranda tightened her grip on the voice recorder she had conveniently brought with her. We need to talk, she said confidently.

I see that you recognize me. No, I don’t know you, the doctor blatantly lied. His hands even trembled, so he hid them in his lab coat pockets.

Well, I think if you strain your memory, you will remember. A woman on bedrest for three months, premature birth at 22 weeks, and then supposedly the baby dies, Miranda said, lowering her voice, and then added louder, I can provide more details. I will call security now, Mr. Peterson raised his voice.

Fine, Miranda almost whispered in response. And I will call the police. Mr. Peterson, I just need to talk to you.

I know that my daughter is alive. I saw the refusal documents. The only problem is, I never refused my daughter.

Fine, come with me to my office. Just put on a gown and wear shoe covers, the doctor replied, sighing with resignation. He closed the door tightly behind Miranda in the office and pointed to the table, then took a seat across from her.

I’m sitting here, listening to you, he said dryly. I won’t keep you long. I just need to know what really happened six years ago.

Miranda discreetly turned on the voice recorder. You did remember me. Keep in mind that I saw the signature on the child abandonment papers, and I didn’t sign those papers.

I suggest you tell me everything. I won’t go to the police, I have other plans to deal with my husband. Deal with him as much as you want, the doctor replied gruffly.

But he wasn’t the initiator of that story. Ms. Caroline? Yes, her. Understand, she used to be a judge, and the whole town knew her…