Chapter 3

I returned to the apartment I had purchased before getting married. There, I started to settle into a life on my own.

I didn't have much—this apartment was the only valuable possession I owned.

At one point, I had planned to leave it to Jackson. To me, it felt like the most tangible expression of a mother's love.

But everything shifted with one careless remark from Sophia. "How could Jackson possibly live in a place this old and rundown? It's hardly worthy of someone who's the heir to the Walker family."

Having grown up surrounded by luxury, Jackson didn't hesitate to agree. He threw a tantrum, outright refusing to accept the apartment. "I don't want to live in some rundown place. I want to live in Dad's villa!"

My heart shattered to see him throw such a fit.

Mason quickly pulled Jackson into his arms, soothing him gently. "Don't cry, Jackson. I would never make you live in a place like that."

Shooting me a cold glare, he snapped, "Athena, what do you think you're doing? Why would you want Jackson to live in a rundown place like yours?

"Do you want him to grow up to be a good-for-nothing, just like you?"

I couldn't understand how my genuine love for Jackson had been twisted into something so unforgivable in their eyes.

I swallowed my words, forcing a bitter smile. In the end, I told them I wouldn't transfer the property after all.

At the time, I kept telling myself that Jackson was just being immature, speaking without thinking. I convinced myself that I shouldn't let such things affect us.

But if he truly loved me as his mother, how could he say something so heartless?

Looking back, the signs had been there all along. I just hadn't recognized them in time.

Freed from the constant rush of daily responsibilities, I finally had the chance to focus on myself. I took my time to cook a meal I actually enjoyed, and then settled in to watch a concert I had been wanting to see for ages. These were the things I never had the chance to savor before.

Mason was all about spicy food, while Jackson couldn't have seafood because of his allergies. As for me, I couldn't handle spice at all, but seafood was my absolute favorite.

Back then, I was constantly focused on fulfilling everyone else's needs, never pausing to consider my own, always mindful of others' feelings while completely ignoring mine.

Suddenly, a sharp ringtone broke my train of thought. I glanced at my phone—Mason was calling.

I hesitated for a moment, tempted to block his number. But I knew his temper. If I didn't answer now, another call would come soon after. It was better to just get it over with.

"What's the matter?"

After a brief pause, Mason reluctantly asked, "Where did you put the tie I had custom-made last month?"

I thought for a moment before responding, "In the second-to-last drawer of the walk-in closet."

Once Mason found what he was looking for, his mood lifted. "If you weren't the only one who knows where everything is in this house, I wouldn't have bothered calling," he said smugly.

I didn't respond, preparing to hang up. But he wasn't finished.

"Alright. Once you're done with your little tantrum, come back home quickly. My patience only stretches so far.

"Jackson barely ate tonight. He didn't like the housekeeper's cooking. Doesn't it hurt you to see our son like that?

"And besides—"

Before he could finish, I interrupted coldly, "Mason, tonight I'll make sure the housekeeper knows where everything important is in the house.

"From now on, don't call me again. Whatever happens to Jackson is no longer my concern. I don't want to hear about it.

"And just to be clear—I wasn't bluffing about the divorce. This is the end. We're done."