As soon as they entered the science academy, the kids looked up at the four-story-tall rainforest exhibit, gazing at the tall glass dome above.
The rainforest exhibit was hot and humid, with birds and butterflies flying freely everywhere. Ben spread his arms wide at the sight of all these tropical creatures for the first time, and even Emma opened her mouth in wonder, her eyes full of curiosity.
The kids didn’t want to leave that exhibit at all. It wasn’t until Jolene checked the time that she had to say, “But we still need to go see the big sharks. How about we come back next time?”
Emma took her mom’s hand and walked forward, and Ben reluctantly headed toward the aquarium.
When they saw the massive sharks gliding overhead, the kids got so excited they started chasing after them.
Jolene stepped back a few paces and focused on taking photos of the children, documenting their daily life.
Whenever Raymond stood with the kids, Jolene would call out to them to look back and take a group shot.
As she snapped away, Jolene suddenly realized—how was she any different from those moms in her past life who loved posting photos of their kids on social media?
But her Emma was so well-behaved and adorable. Now Jolene was determined to raise her chubby and healthy—she’d be absolutely precious.
The science academy was enormous. The kids spent the entire afternoon there—after the aquarium, they went to the natural history museum to see rare animal specimens and fossils, and finally ended up at the planetarium, marveling at the dazzling starry sky.
The kids had boundless energy, but Jolene was completely exhausted. Her body hadn’t fully recovered from being drained by alcohol before.
By the time they finally left the science academy, Jolene felt like she was about to collapse.
She’d finished an entire roll of film. On the way home, they passed a photo lab, so Jolene went in and asked about the price for developing a roll of film—it was $15.
Jolene clicked her tongue. She didn’t even have enough money to develop the photos. She figured she’d just keep the film at home and wait until she got paid—there was no rush anyway, since she didn’t know when Child Protective Services might come knocking.
“Do you need to develop these?” Raymond asked when he saw her walk into the shop but come out looking troubled.
“Oh, no rush. I’ll do it next month,” Jolene waved her hand casually.
Raymond raised an eyebrow, seemingly realizing she didn’t have the money. He took the camera from her hand, turned around, and walked into the shop. “There’s plenty more film at home. Developing takes time—we can leave it here. These are photos of Ben, so naturally I should pay for them.”
Jolene could only stand there with wide eyes, waiting for Mr. Raymond to take care of the photos.
Only Jolene knew she felt a little guilty about it. But he had a point—at least half the photos were of Ben anyway.
Once the photos were taken care of, they headed home.
The two kids were tired from the long day. Ben was practically falling asleep, and in the end, Mr. Raymond had to carry him back on his back.
When they got home, the kids ate dinner lazily, washed up early, and went straight to bed—they even forgot about their bedtime story.
Emma’s breathing quickly became slow and steady as soon as she hit the bed—she was already asleep.
Now Jolene finally had time. She grabbed her manuscript, blank paper, and marker pen, and settled at the coffee table on the first floor to start writing her fourth chapter.
The first three chapters had already covered the divorce, the scumbag’s schemes, and the female lead hitting rock bottom. Next, she needed to write about the female lead’s suppressed desperation, and how the scumbag and his subordinate mistress were thriving—she had to push the tension to the max before the readers could truly empathize and be fully invested.
Since they’d come home early today, Jolene managed to write three chapters in one night—about 9,000 words total. Of course, unlike writing web novels where she could revise on a computer, she had to scribble all over her drafts and then copy everything out neatly.
It was a ton of work. The coffee table wasn’t a proper desk, and hunching over it was uncomfortable. Jolene had to stand up and stretch every so often—otherwise, her back would give out long before her book ever got published.
On Sunday, Jolene took the two kids to the neighborhood park to play on the slides and swings. It was filled with children from the surrounding community.
Emma followed closely behind Ben, and Ben—who saw himself as the big brother—actually looked after her quite well.
Basking in the sun and breathing fresh air, Jolene ran through the publishing houses she’d researched in her mind: HarperCollins—mainly serious literature; Random House—strong marketing and distribution, broad publishing scope, including popular fiction; Penguin from the UK—less competitive in the U.S.; Scholastic—well-known children’s book distributor with a wide range; Abrams—not strong enough; Candlewick Press—lacked reach; Disney Press—much more interested in adaptations than publishing…
But right now, Jolene desperately wanted to get published, so she wasn’t in a position to be picky. She’d write a few more chapters tonight and then submit the first ten chapters to publishers.
Whether she’d actually get published, she had no idea—but she had to try. After all, writing was the only thing she knew how to do…
That night, after the kids were sound asleep, Jolene went back to the coffee table on the first floor, wrote three more chapters, and carefully recopied them. She thought it over—tomorrow she’d need to make many copies. She had to keep the originals as proof of copyright.
But right now, she didn’t have money to photocopy all those pages. Jolene only had a few dollars on her, since room and board were provided and she didn’t need to spend anything for now.
But she’d only been here a week, and payday was still far off. Jolene did a rough calculation—she’d asked at the print shop the other day, and for over 2,000 copies, each page cost $0.04. Each chapter of hers was about 3,000 words, which filled roughly five pages. So ten chapters would take about 50 pages. If she sent them to different publishers—say, ten copies—just photocopying the manuscripts would cost around $125…
And that didn’t even include postage…
In that moment, Jolene desperately wished she had a personal computer.
Unfortunately, internet access these days was still dial-up and painfully slow. The main way to submit manuscripts was still mailing the first portion of the work.
She sat in the living room for a long time before finally getting up. She’d have to ask her employer for an advance on half a month’s salary—otherwise, she had no idea when she’d be able to send out her manuscript.
But Jolene didn’t want Mr. Raymond to know she was writing a novel and submitting it to publishers.
After all, there was no guarantee it would get published. If she mentioned it too early and it didn’t work out, she’d just be making a fool of herself. Besides, she was Ben’s live-in nanny—if she spent her time thinking about writing books, it might come across as being distracted or slacking off.
Checking the time—it was already late—Jolene stretched and decided to go to bed.
Just then, Raymond happened to come downstairs for a glass of water and spotted Jolene standing in the middle of the living room.
“Still not asleep?” Raymond’s gaze drifted to the coffee table.
There was a stack of manuscript papers on it. But Jolene had kept them together, and she usually used those blank sheets for bookkeeping or writing up Ben’s little rental agreements and such, so Raymond assumed she was just helping Ben with his accounts.
Of course, he didn’t seem particularly interested in Jolene’s personal affairs—just mildly curious why she was up so late.
“Mr. Raymond, would it be possible to get an advance on one week’s salary?” After getting to know him over the past few days, Jolene could tell he was actually quite easygoing, thoughtful, and kind—so she decided to ask directly.
Even if he said no, she could always borrow from Giovanni. There was no shame in trying to earn money.
The man’s gaze settled on her, as if realizing that this nanny’s financial situation wasn’t great. She’d mentioned being kicked out by her landlord, she’d walked out of the photo lab looking troubled, and both she and Emma wore clothes that looked a bit worn.
He nodded, without pressing for details, his expression neutral. “We can pay you weekly. No need for an advance.”
He set down his water glass, turned around, and took the stairs two at a time. Soon he was back, holding a check with the amount already filled in, and handed it to her. “This is one week’s salary. You can check it.”
The check clearly read “$800.” Jolene looked up in surprise—she hadn’t expected him to calculate her weekly pay based on a 40-hour workweek.
Live-in nannies usually got room and board, so wages were typically lower. Besides, she was home during the day and the work was fairly simple. Based on the original owner’s memories, $2,500 a month was already considered good pay.
Now, if her weekly salary was $800, that meant she’d be making $3,200 a month—definitely a high salary.
Jolene was thrilled. She took the check and said sincerely, “Thank you, Mr. Raymond.”
“You’re doing a good job. Get some rest. Good night,” Raymond said calmly, without asking what she needed the money for.
Feeling great, Jolene knew this $800 would be more than enough for postage and printing all her manuscripts. And after dropping Emma off at school tomorrow, she’d have most of the day free—being a working stiff wasn’t so bad after all.
Monday morning, after breakfast, Jolene walked both little ones to school.
At the office, she picked up Emma’s new uniform—a white polo shirt and a little skirt for girls.
She carried a large bag with her handwritten manuscript inside and headed to the print shop, where she printed ten copies all at once.
She filled out the submission forms required by each publisher and sent them off via express mail, addresses carefully written.
After mailing them, Jolene winced. If none of the publishers picked up her book, that was a whopping $155 down the drain…
She still had some time left, so she stopped by a children’s clothing store. Her own clothes could wait, but Emma was still growing—she couldn’t keep wearing clothes meant for a three-year-old…
Over the next few days, Jolene’s mind was constantly on the publishers. She picked up the kids, took Ben to his tutoring sessions, helped them sell lemonade, wrote her novel at night, and attended her weekly AA support group. Life was busy, but she couldn’t shake the nagging worry in the back of her mind.
Five days later, Jolene watched the mailman walk away, disappointed. Apart from the usual utility bills, there wasn’t a single reply from any publisher…
An experienced author in her past life, now starting from scratch—and reality had already taught her a harsh lesson right out of the gate…
Meanwhile, at HarperCollins in New York, a recent graduate working as a junior editor was reading a submission with great interest. As he read, he muttered to himself, “The writing style is a bit odd, but damn, this story is good… Wait, that’s it? Where’s the rest? Oh—hey, Editor-in-Chief, isn’t there a movie called The First Wives Club coming out in September? I’ve got a manuscript here about a divorced single mom getting revenge on her ex-husband. Should we consider publishing it?”
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