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In the sterile silence of the conference room, a storm was building up. Clement Palmar, a man of science and medicine, was in the throes of betrayal. His partners, in a clandestine move, had inked a contract on his groundbreaking new drug without his consent. Clement had envisioned a partnership with the corporation that would benefit not only himself but also the company's future. Yet, there he stood, his trust frayed at the edges.

The door swung open, and Robert Brown entered, his presence commanding the room's attention. He had already acquainted himself with Clement's partners earlier, but now he addressed Clement directly. "Dr. Palmar," he began, his voice steady and assured, "I've considered the terms your partners relayed. I'm prepared to offer you royalties for your invention, and beyond that, I'd like to sponsor your PhD endeavors. In return, you'll join my company as a full-time partner." The determination in Robert's eyes was unyielding, reminiscent of the steadfastness of a workhorse.

The revelation sent ripples of shock through the room. Bernard, Clement's closest confidant and colleague, was taken aback. This proposal had not been part of their earlier discussions. For Clement, the offer was a lifeline. He had only agreed to the initial deal out of financial necessity, to fund his research and pursue a PhD. But this contract promised more than just monetary gain—it offered stability for his family and his scientific pursuits.

"While you deliberate on the agreement and forward the documents to my secretary, Mr. Smith, I must excuse myself to address another matter," Robert announced, excusing himself with a finality that left no room for immediate questions.

Meanwhile, at Gaelle's school, the day had taken an unexpected turn. Classes had ended prematurely to accommodate the upcoming meeting, one in which the students were to participate. Parents gathered, eager to reunite with their children, but Gaelle's gaze swept the crowd in vain for a familiar face. With a heart heavy with disappointment, she retreated to a secluded corner of the playground, seeking solace under the shade of a tree adorned with a solitary swing. There, she sat, a small figure dwarfed by the vastness of the schoolyard, her eyes holding a glimmer of hope that someone would come for her.

Gaelle's eyes, brimming with the threat of tears, scanned the playground. She had not noticed the boy on the adjacent swing until his voice, tinged with anticipation, broke through her worry. "Are your parents not coming too? My mom will be late—she's a nurse at the hospital and only gets off after her shift. My dad's at work, so it's just going to be her," said little Jamale, his face alight with the certainty of his mother's arrival.

Gaelle's spirits lifted slightly at his words. "My dad's at work too, but my mom—she's always on time. She's never late. Something must've happened," she replied, her voice quivering as she fought back tears.

Meanwhile, Marilyn navigated the congested streets with growing anxiety. Marilyn, caught in the unexpected grip of traffic, felt panic overwhelming her. "It's barely mid-day; why is there a traffic jam now? This is so unusual. I'm going to be late for my baby's meeting. Oh dear, I am so sorry," she voiced her frustration to the empty car, her words a mix of apology and dismay. Then, as if the universe heard her plea, the congestion dissolved, leaving her path clear.

Upon her arrival at the school, Marilyn's uncharacteristic delay drew surprised glances from the other parents. Her reputation as a time-conscious individual and as the wife of the renowned Mr. Brown preceded her. With a flurry of barely acknowledged greetings, she made her way to Gaelle's classroom, only to find the teacher in a grave conversation with a stranger. "He's at the playground, but I can't let you take him without permission. If you can get approval from his father, I'll let him go with you," Miss Titty was explaining to the woman, who seemed to bear unsettling news for Jamale.

Marilyn, overhearing this, felt a pang of sympathy but her mind was consumed with finding Gaelle. "Hello, Miss Titty, where is my daughter, Gaelle Brown?" she asked, her voice laden with worry. "They're both at the playground," the teacher responded, gesturing for Marilyn to follow. As they walked, Miss Titty continued her conversation with the women, leading them to the children and the unfolding events at the playground.

In the quiet of the schoolyard, Miss Bright shared the sad story with Marilyn and the teacher as they approached the play ground. "I'm Edithe Palmar's sister. We're both nurses. Today, Edithe had to leave work early, but then she came back hurt in an ambulance. She was in a big accident and is now in the hospital. Someone has gone to tell Mr. Palmar about it..."

Marilyn interrupted, "Wait, Mr. Clement Palmar?"

"Yes, he's my brother-in-law," Miss Bright answered.

"I just saw him at Brown Pharmacorp," Marilyn said, shocked.

"It's very sad, but I still have hope. Jamale should be with his dad. I'll call to get permission to take Jamale there," Miss Bright said, pulling out her phone.

Gaelle, close to tears, didn't notice Jamale pointing out, "Look, there! Is that your mom and my aunt Bright? Why is she here? She doesn't have kids."

Gaelle ran to her mom, crying, "Mom, why are you late? Are you okay? Did something bad happen to you?

Miss Bright looked sad. "He said Jamale should stay at school."

"I'm okay, baby. I was just stuck in traffic. Jamale, come over, you'll be our special guest today," Marilyn comforted her daughter and tried to make Jamale feel better.

Jamale walked over. "Auntie Bright, did mom send you? She's always busy at work."

Marilyn quickly said, "She came to say you'll be my special guest. I have pies in my car. Can you and Gaelle help me get them?"

Jamale and Gaelle smiled and ran to the gate to look for the car. Miss Bright took a moment to thank Marilyn and the teacher, then left quietly, not wanting to spoil Jamale's happy moment. It might be a while before he could be this happy again.