Chapter 2
The woman on the other end paused, then laughed even more delightedly.
Her voice held undisguised interest and a hint of challenge:
“Send me the address. I’ll pick you up.”
The next morning, Victoria glanced at the empty seat to her right and instructed the housekeeper:
“Mrs. Miller, have someone call him down for breakfast.”
Mrs. Miller raised her lowered head, looking puzzled.
“Mr. Bennett left early this morning. He took a suitcase.”
Victoria’s fork paused.
“He left?”
“Victoria, maybe you should take me home after all. Owen must be upset, and that’s why—”
Victoria cut Ethan off coldly.
“It’s not the first time he’s run away from home to make a point. He’ll calm down after a few days and come back.”
“Don’t worry about him. Eat your breakfast.”
As she spoke, she pushed a glass of warm milk toward Ethan.
He lowered his head and took a couple of sips, looking utterly content.
Victoria picked up her fork again.
But she couldn’t stop seeing my face from the night before, so pale it was almost translucent. My cold, final words. The divorce papers still sitting on the coffee table.
“Tch.”
She made a quiet sound of annoyance and abruptly lost her appetite.
She stood, moving a little more hurriedly than usual.
“Clear it away.”
“Have the car brought around. I’m going to the office.”
Meanwhile, not long after being discharged, I was taken back to the hospital by Claire Morgan. I’d apparently forced myself to leave while still far too ill, then developed such a high fever in her car that I lost consciousness.
Drifting in and out, I vaguely felt someone gently massaging the bruises on my right hand.
“A car accident? What do you mean, they issued three critical-condition notices? Are these complications?”
“The incision on his abdomen is infected. I’ll step outside. Have a nurse clean it and change the dressing right away.”
“Turn the heat up. Where’s the IV warmer?”
…
I struggled to open my eyes and saw only a pair of anxious eyes.
“Claire?”
“I’m here. Go back to sleep. You’ll feel better when you wake up.”
She took my cold right hand, warmth seeping into my skin. My fever was so high I could no longer tell who she was.
All I knew was that her hand felt so warm.
Ring. Ring. Ring.
It was Victoria’s eighth call to me. Still no answer.
Whenever I’d gotten upset before, it had taken only two or three calls.
She hadn’t even needed to say anything nice. I would come running back.
“Scott, go find out—”
Before Victoria could finish, someone from her secretarial staff knocked and entered with a visitor.
“Ms. Hayes, Mr. Parker insisted on seeing you. He says… he represents your husband.”
The man adjusted his glasses and introduced himself.
“Hello, Ms. Hayes. I’ve been retained by Mr. Owen Bennett.”
“I’m here to discuss your divorce.”
Victoria froze for two seconds.
Then she scoffed, smiling as though everything made sense now.
“Mr. Parker, is this Owen’s latest little stunt? Where is he?”
“I’m busy. I don’t have time to play along with his running-away games. Tell him to move back as soon as possible. Ethan is sensitive. Constantly worrying about Owen is bad for his rehabilitation. Tell Owen to apologize to Ethan properly when he comes home.”
Her tone was dismissive, as though she were discussing an unreasonable child throwing a tantrum.
For a moment, Mr. Parker said nothing.
Instead, he opened his briefcase and took out a document.
“Mr. Bennett instructed me to show you this if you didn’t believe him.”
It wasn’t a divorce agreement. It was a printed official statement.
“At Mr. Bennett’s direction, his investment firm and all affiliated companies released this statement to the media and their business partners through official channels at ten o’clock this morning.”
“It formally informs the public that Mr. Owen Bennett has initiated divorce proceedings.”
The smile on Victoria’s face shattered. Her pupils contracted.
Black ink on white paper, bearing the company seal.
This was the very approach she had always preferred, the one she excelled at.
Only then did Victoria realize.
I wasn’t joking.
I really wanted to divorce her.