Her Revenge Went Viral

The door was unlocked with a key while I was at my computer, going over the quarterly report. The noise from the entrance carried a damp chill. I looked up and saw Fiona Ward holding my daughter Sophia by the door. They both looked like they'd just been pulled out of water. Sophia's pink little jacket was dripping, her hair stuck to her pale little face. Seeing me, she pouted and rushed over. "Mom, I'm cold." Her little hands were icy cold, her teeth chattering from the chill. My heart tightened. I quickly grabbed a towel to wrap her up, then touched Fiona Ward's arm—it was just as freezing. "How did you get so drenched? Didn't you take a cab?" I asked as I ran to the bathroom to turn on the hot water. Fiona rubbed her red, frozen hands, her voice filled with frustration: "There was a traffic jam outside the early learning class for over half an hour. The rain kept pouring down, and no cabs stopped." She paused, then added, "I called Mr. Zimmerman seven or eight times, but he never answered. I really had no choice, so I just ran back with Sophia." Michael Zimmerman? My brow immediately furrowed. He clearly said this morning before leaving that he would pick up Sophia today. How could he have not gone? What confused me even more was that I specifically told them the spare car key was in the entryway drawer, so Fiona could use it anytime to take Sophia out. "Didn't you see the car key in the entryway drawer?" I asked, holding onto the bathroom door frame. Fiona Ward hesitated for a moment, then shook her head. "No car keys, Isabelle. I looked in the drawer this morning and it was empty—I thought you'd put them away." My heart sank as I quickly turned and walked toward the entrance. I pulled open the drawer, and sure enough, it was completely empty—the silver car keys were nowhere to be found. The spare car was something I'd specially bought last year for getting around. It was mostly for Fiona Ward to take Sophia out—fuel-efficient and easy to park. I took out my phone and opened the app. The driving record on the screen made my pupils shrink—between 10 a.m. and 2 p.m. today, the car had traveled nearly thirty kilometers. At that time, Fiona was taking Sophia to her early learning class, so there's no way she could've driven the car. Then who was driving? Sophia was soaking in a hot bath in the bathroom, her little face slowly regaining color, still humming the new nursery rhymes she'd learned in class. While drying her hair, I sent Michael a message asking if he had taken the spare car key. My message went unanswered, like it vanished into thin air. It wasn't until after eight that Michael came home smelling of alcohol. "Where did you go?" After I got Sophia to sleep, I stood in the living room waiting for him.