Chapter 5

Fortunately, Steve still trusted me. He merely flipped up the corner of each page and signed wherever his signature was required. He didn't even read the contents of the contract. When he finally signed his name on the last page, which was the divorce agreement, my pounding heart settled back to its normal rhythm. I was terrified he might realize what it was. Hence, I took the contract away the moment he finished signing. Back in the master bedroom, I quietly took out the page bearing Steve's signature and hid it between the pages of a book. The waiting period for a divorce to be finalized was one month. ... That very night, I began preparing to move out of the master bedroom. When Steve returned and saw me limping as I packed to make room for his mistress and his illegitimate child, he stopped me. "Let Maria or the maids handle this. Once this wave of attention dies down and they leave, you can move back. Don't worry. They won't be staying long," he said, his tone relatively gentle. I chuckled derisively, my gaze gliding across his serious face. "Should I be thankful for your thoughtfulness?" Steve's expression soured on the spot. I wasn't moving houses. In fact, I was just moving to a guest room. So, there wasn't much to pack. All I took with me were some skincare products and a few pieces of clothing. My most important item was a small wooden box on top of the wardrobe. I didn't ask anyone for help. Standing on a chair, I carefully took the box down myself. The child in those photos was the most precious one to Steve. What was inside this box was the most precious thing to me. Unfortunately, my precious one would never get to live freely and jovially like other children. She would remain forever in this small, lightless box. When I took the box down, Steve was on the balcony. He was on the phone, meticulously discussing with his assistant, Jake Sawyer, which route would be safest to bring Isabel and Dorothy over. When he came back inside and saw me holding the box in my arms, he looked mildly displeased. "Why are you taking that with you?" There was a hint of puzzlement in his eyes. I couldn't help but wonder whether things would be different if our child hadn't died. Would he still have cheated? Would my child be his most precious one, too? As that thought flashed through my mind, I immediately put a stop to it. I refused to keep draining my sanity for a cheating scoundrel. Just as I was about to leave, Steve suddenly grabbed my wrist. "I asked you a question. Why are you taking that?" I looked at him coldly. "Because this is the only thing in this house that truly belongs to me." Something flickered in his eyes. Perhaps it was the last remnants of the tiny sliver of conscience he had left. His grip slowly loosened. I moved into the guest room and placed the box in the safest spot. Then, I stared at it for a long, long time… ... Sometime in the afternoon the next day, Isabel and Dorothy came to the villa. Maria had just finished preparing lunch. The entire spread was vegetarian. No matter how elaborate or refined the dishes were, it was still vegetarian food. Neither Isabel nor Dorothy was used to it. But in an effort to please Steve, she pretended to eat enthusiastically at first. She even coaxed, or I should say forced, Dorothy to eat along with her. I sneered inwardly. So this was the glamorous starlet I saw on TV. Frankly, she wasn't all that. I felt thankful that she wasn't my idol. After sampling a few dishes, Steve set his fork down in dissatisfaction and asked Maria, "Were these ingredients flown in fresh today? The risotto tastes off, too." Maria glanced at me awkwardly before explaining, "In the past, your meals were all prepared personally by Mrs. Griffin. For the risotto, Mrs. Griffin mixed Arborio rice, highland barley, truffle shavings, and hazelnut bits in specific proportions before cooking it. "She isn't feeling well today, so I could only replicate the appearance of her dishes. I can't really replicate the flavor." Steve clearly hadn't expected that simply changing who cooked would make such a stark difference. His gaze lingered on me for a long time, thoughtful and probing. However, he never heard me volunteering to take over. After all, why would I humiliate myself by spending time and effort to help another woman keep her man well-fed?