Chapter 2

Willow was shocked to hear it.

"You want a divorce? Why so suddenly? Did you have a fight with Richard?"

Maria gripped her phone tightly, her voice weak. "No, I'm just tired. I don't want to stay with him anymore."

In the past seven years, Maria had always tried to sound happy. She never told her brother about her troubles. Maybe it was because she wanted to prove that she was doing well. No matter how coldly Richard treated her or how exhausting it was to raise such a rebellious son, Maria had never once complained to Willow.

No wonder her brother was surprised.

Perhaps it was the bond between siblings, but Willow went quiet and didn't ask anything else. In the end, he just said, "Alright. When are you coming back? I'll pick you and your son up myself."

Maria paused. "Jonny is staying with Richard. I'm not taking him."

Willow gasped. "You're okay with letting him go? Don't worry, Mari. If you really want a divorce, I'll help you fight for custody."

"No, it's fine. Once I take care of things here, I'll contact you again," Maria said.

She quickly hung up, afraid Willow would ask more questions. Her thumb trembled as it pressed on her phone.

She sat on the sofa, completely drained.

Ever since she gave birth to their son, Maria had never thought about leaving Richard. Never had she expected that her son would be what finally pushed her over the edge.

She said she had things to handle, but really, there was nothing to deal with.

The marriage certificate was fake. She was never Richard's wife and had no place in the Shaw family, and had no legal paperwork to show for it. All she had to do was pack up and leave, and she could cut ties with Richard and Jonathan for good.

Maria steadied herself and went upstairs to pack.

Suddenly, the bedroom door opened.

Jonathan walked in with a toy in his hand, surprised to see her packing. "Mom, why are you packing? Where are you going?"

Maria looked at Jonathan. Even though he was her own flesh and blood, he suddenly felt like a stranger. "I'm going away for a while."

Jonathan's face lit up. "Really? When do you leave?"

Kids couldn't hide their excitement. He sounded so eager for her to go.

Maria's heart sank. "In a day or two. I'll be gone for a long time."

Jonathan's grin grew even wider. "Great! Have a safe trip, Mom!"

He bounced out, eager to call Eleanor to share the news.

Watching him go, Maria frowned, but still couldn't help reminding him, "It's past seven. Your homework…"

Jonathan groaned in irritation. "Ugh, you're so annoying! You used to help me at eight, right? Why are you nagging me so early?"

Maria pressed her lips together, forcing a self-mocking smile. "Sorry. This is the last time."

Jonathan noticed something odd with his mother today. Usually, she would start nagging him about how the teacher would check his homework tomorrow, and that he should finish early and go to bed.

Well, he couldn't care less. Feeling vindictive, he slammed the door behind him.

Maria went to the desk, took out all the reference books she had used to help Jonathan study, and lined them up on the table. Every book was marked with notes, even the first-grade ones.

Richard never bothered with these things, so she had handled all the parenting and teaching herself—only to end up being detested by her son.

She had given her all for six years to ensure Jonathan had top grades, could play the piano and guitar, and was always healthy and never got sick.

Yet… None of it compared to a few toys and treats from Eleanor.

Tears streamed down Maria's cheeks. She quickly wiped them away and organized Jonathan's things, labeling everything neatly.

At eight o'clock, Maria didn't go to Jonathan's room to remind him about his homework.

Jonathan was happy, thinking his mother must have lost track of time, and played games until he fell asleep. Meanwhile, Mr. Graham thought Maria would be taking care of Jonathan and didn't check on him.

Around nine, Richard came home from work.

Maria heard the door and was startled. She was sending a text she had written for her doctor.

[Sorry, doctor. You don't need to schedule my surgery anymore. I've decided to try conservative treatment overseas instead.]

Richard came in and glanced at the dining table. It was empty, with no sign of the chickpea pasta soup Maria usually made for him. He often worked late, causing him to skip meals and leading him to suffer from stomach problems. Thus, Maria made him chickpea pasta soup every night.

Richard was puzzled. When he turned to Maria, his expression softened. "Where's the soup tonight?"

Maria looked at him calmly. "I wasn't feeling well, so I didn't make any."

Richard loosened his tie, pausing at her words. "Are you feeling sick? You've been having nosebleeds and look paler than usual. I'll hire two more staff at home. You're doing too much on your own and tiring yourself out."

He set down his things on the table and touched her forehead.

As Maria let him touch her, she suddenly remembered how distant he had always been before that fateful night. Under the influence of drugs, he became a hungry beast and painted red and blue on her. After that, he woke up embarrassed and refused to let her go, determined to take responsibility. His ears had turned completely red.

After that, Richard had truly changed; he treated her better than anyone else while remaining distant with outsiders. He would take good care of her, and only her.

"Your forehead's fine. Why do you look so pale?" Richard's voice broke her thoughts. "Want some cookies?"

Maria looked at the pink dessert box in his hand. Crab apple cookies—her favorite.

There weren't any crab apple trees in the city, but every Wednesday, a famous shop sold these pastries. For five years, Richard had gone out of his way to buy them for her. Maria used to feel very touched, thinking that even if he was cold, he must care about her deep down.

Now, she realized it was all just wishful thinking.

Five years of pastries meant nothing, especially when their marriage didn't even exist in the first place. Maria's eyes darkened even more.

Richard noticed she wasn't eating and asked, "Don't want any?"

"I have no appetite," Maria snapped back.

Richard was about to say more when he noticed her purse on the sofa and a half-exposed medical report. He frowned. "Did you have a checkup?"

He reached for the papers, but Maria grabbed his sleeve.

She forced a smile. "I'm fine. I just need to stay out of the sun more."

Richard relaxed and patted her head. "I'll have one of the staff make you some warm soup."

Maria clenched her fists and finally spoke up. "Richard, what if I were really sick? What would you do if I got a terminal illness?"

Richard froze, suddenly uneasy. He frowned and said, "Don't say something like that. If you feel bad, I'll take you to a doctor. You won't get any terminal disease."

Maria's expression was unreadable as she pressed, "We've been married seven years. Is there anything you're hiding from me? If you tell me now, I can take all of it."

Richard stiffened, looking unsettled. "I'm not hiding anything. Is something the matter?"

Maria looked away, something gleaming in her eyes. "Nothing. Maybe I'm just overthinking. I just really hate being lied to. If you ever lie to me, I'll be gone for good. The three of us will never be together again."

Richard was stunned. For some reason, he had a bad feeling—as if something huge was about to happen. He tried to reassure her, smiling gently.

"Mari, we'll always be a family. Don't say things like that. I'm going to check on Jonny."

With that, Richard went into Jonny's room and closed the door.

Maria's heart finally turned cold. There was nothing left to hold onto.

Maria took out the keys to the house and car, along with a farewell letter. There was no need for a divorce certificate, no need for divorce proceedings, or even splitting assets. They were never truly married, after all.

The house and the Rolls-Royce in the garage were all gifts from Richard. Now that she had given them back, there was nothing that would bind them together anymore.

She left the keys and letter on Richard's desk in his study.

Maria walked out the door and disappeared into the night, pulling her suitcase behind her.