Chapter 2

Quinley woke up in a hospital. A young lawyer stood helplessly at her bedside. "Ms. Clark, the case has already been classified. You should try to let it go. Your health comes first." Quinley came to, heart still aching. Ignoring the IV in her hand, she sat up abruptly and rummaged through her bag. "Can you help me check if this is valid?" Her voice trembled as she handed over a divorce agreement. "Ms. Clark, your husband has already signed this. Once you sign and submit it, you can get the divorce certificate in a month," replied the lawyer. This morning, Quinley had knelt before Gary, holding that very document. Maybe Gary had rushed out the door too quickly, or he simply didn't believe she would actually go through with it, because he was convinced the agreement was fake and didn't bother to look at it—he just signed it. But he would never guess that everything she said was real. Quinley didn't want to wait a second longer. She pulled out the needle and rushed to the county clerk's office to submit the paperwork. After completing the process, she made one last stop at the seaside. In the chilly drizzle, she dropped to her knees. "Mom, from now on, I'll go wherever there's a sea. I'll stay with you forever." However, the only response was the cold ocean wind. She remained on her knees for a long time. Then, she wiped her tears and dialed a number. "Hello, I'd like to schedule… a fake death rescue," she uttered determinedly, despite her broken voice. "One month from now, the cause of death will be 'homicide.' I'll arrange the location. All you need to do is prepare a completely new identity and get me out once I'm rescued, then send me abroad." Yes, she wasn't going to get a divorce. A month from now, she was going to take back justice with her own hands and leave Gary with a surprise he'd never forget for the rest of his life. By the time Quinley finished everything and returned home, night had already fallen. The living room lights were on. Gary was feeding Luna spoonfuls of soup. "Gary, I posted that apology letter online," Luna said as she tilted her head to rest on his shoulder. "Quinn's been slandering me this whole time. Getting attacked online will teach her a lesson. You're not allowed to interfere." Gary's Adam's apple bobbed, but he still replied, "Alright. She made a mistake, so she should be punished." Quinley remembered the hate received online. They said her mother deserved to die. They called her a filthy maid who was not even worthy of licking the soles of a rich woman's feet. A sharp pain pierced her heart, but she walked into the living room without a trace of emotion on her face. "Where were you?" Seeing the pallor in her face, Gary froze for a second, his tone suddenly softening. "What happened to your forehead?" Quinley ignored him. Luna quickly changed the subject. "You're back, Quinn. Perfect timing. I brought you some gifts. Come take a look." Gary cleared his throat lightly, looking hesitant. "Quinn, Luna's been in a coma for too long. She hasn't recovered fully yet, so she'll be staying here for now. I need you to be extra attentive. She's lactose intolerant, can't eat anything cold, and she needs to sleep in for her beauty rest until ten. Also, any fruit must be juiced for her." Each word was like a knife stabbing into Quinley's heart. She let out a cold laugh of disbelief. "What? You want me to take care of her?" "Quinn, what's past is past. Let's not dig into it anymore. You used to work as a maid at the White estate, so I trust you with this—" Gary stopped himself from continuing. On one side of the dining table, there were exactly 267 instructions written for taking care of Luna. On the floor lay a mess of discarded luxury items—crumpled shopping bags, a Chanel clutch with scuffed hardware, a Hermes keychain that came as a free gift, and a pair of obviously worn Dior heels. So, these so-called gifts were just a pile of trash tossed aside. Quinley remembered years ago, when one of Gary's close friends had casually called her "a mere maid," Gary had flown into a rage. That same night, he pulled strings to shut down a billion-dollar project the man was working on. "Quinn is my wife. Anyone who insults her is insulting me!" And now, Gary was insulting himself for asking Quinley to be the personal maid of her mother's killer. So much for deep love. So much for vows. Those were nothing but empty words. Quinley would never believe it again. She forced herself not to cry. She would endure it all for the last 30 days. But the very night Luna moved in, she threw a tantrum over a nightmare. She ran barefoot into the master bedroom just as Gary had finished showering. "Gary, I can't sleep alone." Luna whimpered like a spoiled child, climbing straight into Gary's bare chest. "The mattress in the guest room is too hard. I'm scared. I want you to sleep with me." Gary's brows furrowed slightly. Quinley knew he was feeling sorry for Luna again. Even with Quinley still standing right there, he picked Luna up and settled her on his lap, wrapping his arms around her in comfort. Then, he looked to the left side of the bed. "Quinn, Luna's never suffered a day in her life. Could you… Sleep in another room for now?" In that moment, Quinley saw the flash of smugness on Luna's face. She let out a mocking smile and picked up her pillow from the bed. "Ms. Scott, if you like the bed, then it's yours." Yes, it wasn't just the bed and the master bedroom. She didn't want the man either.