From Sneers to Cheers: Anthea’s Ascent

Malcolm loved her so much, loved their home to the core, and he had to come around.

As soon as school let out, Lizzie bolted home, determined to have a heart–to–heart with Malcolm.

But after a thorough search of the grocery store, Malcolm was nowhere to be seen. Reluctantly, Lizzie approached Gina, “Mom, where’s Dad?”

Gina, covering for a cashier who had called in sick, was ringing up customers at the front, “Your father’s gone on a supply run.” *

Supply run.

Always the supply runs.

A cold smirk flickered across Lizzie’s eyes.

“What do you need your father for?” Gina asked casually.

“It’s nothing,” Lizzie replied, shouldering her backpack and heading upstairs.

It was well past ten when Malcolm finally made it home.

Lizzie could instantly smell the perfume on him, “Dad, -need to talk to you. Can we go downstairs?”

Peeling off his coat with a chuckle, Malcolm said, “What’s so important that we have to talk downstairs?”

Though he played it cool, Malcolm followed Lizzie downstairs all the same.

The early spring evening was chilly, with gusts of cold wind.

“Lizzie, what’s so secretive that your mom can’t hear?” Malcolm asked.

”

Lizzie looked up at him, not beating around the bush, “It’s about you, Dad. Are you seeing someone else?”

Malcolm’s expression darkened.

“Don’t deny it. I have proof,” Lizzie said, pulling out the photos she had taken before.

“I’m sorry, Lizzie.” Malcolm was at a loss for words, caught in an affair by his own daughter, a feeling perhaps no one could understand.

So this is the reason. No wonder Lizzie has been acting weird lately.

“You shouldn’t be apologizing to me. You should be apologizing to Mom. She works her fingers to the bone every day for this family. She’s like a maid, always waiting on you. Do you think what you’re doing is fair to her? Don’t you care about our family anymore?”

The thought of Gina brought tears to Lizzie’s eyes again.

Confronted with Lizzie’s accusations, Malcolm panicked, his eyes welling up:

“I’m sorry Lizzie. I’ve wronged you. I’ve wronged Gina, and I’ve wronged our family. Please don’t tell your mom, okay? I’ll cut ties with that woman right away.” This is the property of Nô-velDrama.Org.

“Are you serious?” Lizzie looked up at him, searching his face for the truth.

Malcolm raised three fingers in a solemn vow, “I swear. If I’m lying, may lightning strike me down.”

09:59

Hearing this, Lizzie breathed a sigh of relief. Malcolm still cared about her and Gina. “I’ll give you this one chance. I hope you remember what you said tonight.”

Thank you, Lizzie.” Malcolm hugged her, “I’ll make it up to your mom, I promise. She’s a wonderful

woman, and I’ve done her wrong.”

After that night, Malcolm truly seemed like a changed man. No more late nights, and he even started helping Gina with chores.

And Gina’s smile was noticeably brighter than usual. Lizzie too, returned to her usual cheerful self.

A week flew by swiftly.

It was Saturday.

The weather was splendid, the temperature had climbed from a chilly zero degrees to a balmy eighteen.

Willow branches by the river were sprouting new buds, and a gentle breeze carried an unfamiliar floral

scent.

Anthea had promised Sarah a tutoring session for today, so after lunch, she set out for the Allen family.

They lived a fair distance from Anthea’s house. But with the weather so fine, Anthea decided against taking a cab, and a walk would do her good, she thought, basking in the springtime sun.

Saturdays were busy.

And with Cloudcrest being a tourist hotspot, the streets were even more crowded. Glancing at the sun, Anthea briefly regretted not calling a cab.

Just then, a man dressed in black

sped past her, moving with incredible speed like a gust of wind.

Anthea’s brow furrowed slightly, but before she could react, a middle–aged woman clad in a light blue dress, her high heels clicking on the pavement, made up in fine detail, cried out, “Help! Stop that thief.”

Anthea quickly grasped the situation and turned to the woman, “Madam, wait here, please.”

With that, Anthea dashed after the black–clad man.

Her pace was swift. In no time, she cornered him in an alleyway.

The thief, pale and drenched in sweat, slumped to the ground, looking up at Anthea with defeat, “I surrender, please, have mercy.”

“Hand it over,” Anthea extended her hand, her expression cool.

“Alright, just a second,” the thief muttered, fumbling in his pockets, while a sly glint flickered in his eyes.