Chapter 6

Noticing where Maeva's gaze had fallen, David lowered his head and looked, too. He understood almost immediately.

His brows furrowed even tighter, and annoyance flickered across his face. Life these past few days without Maeva had been, frankly, a mess.

He'd finished an online meeting in his study and gone back to the bedroom, only to find his phone completely dead. But where was the charger? He'd searched everywhere and couldn't find it.

Every morning, he needed a cup of iced black coffee, a habit he'd kept for years. But the coffee the maids had brought him didn't taste anything like what he used to drink.

They tried changing the beans, changing the machine, and even hiring a professional barista to come to the house, but the taste still wasn't the familiar one he liked.

As a result, he felt tired at work and was unable to stay focused.

There was also the issue of getting dressed. In the past, every night before bed, Maeva would lay out his clothes for the next day. His outfits were paired just right, perfectly pressed, and hanging by the mirror in the walk-in closet. His ties, cufflinks, socks, and watch straps would also be prepared in advance.

Now… David just grabbed whatever he could. Whatever his hand landed on, that was what he would wear.

At that moment, he felt a strange stab of embarrassment, as if someone had ripped away a layer of pretense.

Still, getting rid of Maeva was the thing he'd wanted most, and he was certain it had been the right decision. These were just trivial domestic details, nothing more. He would adjust after a bit more time. Once he did, his life would get back on track.

Given the menial tasks she'd performed, anyone could take her place. She was basically just a live-in housekeeper.

Before Maeva could say anything, David spoke first, seizing the upper hand. "What are you staring at?"

She froze for a second.

"You enjoy staring at your ex-husband, huh?" he pressed, aggressive and mocking. "You say you don't love me anymore, but your eyes are pretty honest."

Maeva immediately took three big steps back. She countered, "I was just thinking your taste is pretty bad. Then again, your taste has never exactly been impressive."

His expression darkened. "Oh?"

"How can you possibly say you have good taste when you've fallen for someone like Alaina Fulton?"

David's expression was stormy by now. And with that, Maeva turned to leave.

"Relax. I can't bear to make Grandma so angry that she gets sick," she said, waving a hand. "I'm good at playing the loving couple—I've done it for five years, after all. But you'd better work on your acting, or she's going to see right through you."

This back-and-forth put her in an excellent mood. So this was what it felt like to really let go of someone when one no longer loved them.

She had to hold onto this feeling.

In the past, if David had treated her like this and thrown those cutting words at her, she would've spiraled for a long time, teetering on the edge of depression. She would even go on crying jigs at night, when everything went quiet.

But right now, there was only one word that could describe how she felt—vindicated.

David watched her beautiful figure as she walked away. He narrowed his eyes slightly. How many versions of Maeva were there? How many sides were there to her that he'd never known and never seen?

The obedient, well-behaved one was her, but the sharp-tongued, quick-witted one was also her. The woman who he could love deeply and then walk away just as decisively—that was her, too.

He hadn't even bothered to look at her properly when she'd hovered around him all those years. He'd just found her annoying.

But when she'd pushed open the hospital room door and burst in earlier, panting and out of breath, he'd suddenly realized how beautiful she was.

Maeva had a clean and understated presence, but her features were vivid and striking. She had a delicate face with bright and luminous eyes.

If he remembered correctly, she'd once been the campus belle. She had the sort of fresh, unspoiled beauty that reminded people of their first love. Makeup was almost unnecessary on her.

…

David got into the car and said coolly, "Back to the office."

"Yes, sir," his driver, Glen Schwarz, said.

David picked up a document to review, then paused. There was the scent of leather in the car, not the jasmine fragrance he was used to.

He was a clean freak. His car had to be spotless, and he never allowed strangers to ride in it.

"Where is that smell coming from?" His voice turned a bit icier. "Hmm?"

"Huh? Is there anything, Mr. Cavendish? I don't really smell it…" Glen stammered, looking everywhere and soon discovering the problem. "I think the diffuser ran out of fragrance."

"Replace it," David ordered.

Glen hesitated. "Uh… Mr. Cavendish, that diffuser was prepared by Mrs. Cavendish. I-I don't know where to buy it."

With a sharp slap, David threw the file down onto the seat, pressing his fingers to his brow. Maeva again! Even after leaving, she'd somehow left her fingerprints all over his life.

"Search for the same one. Go to the counters and ask one by one. Are you telling me you still can't find it like that?" His Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke. "It's just a car fragrance. Is she the only one who can get it?"

"I think she made it herself, sir."

David was left speechless.

…

Maeva had lost an hour or two because she'd gone to visit Linda. By the time she arrived at Wilson Stone's company, it was already noon.

"Sorry I'm late," she said politely at the front desk. "My apologies. Is Mr. Stone available now?"

The receptionist looked at her. "You've already been here five times, and I've reported it to him five times. Mr. Stone doesn't want to see you. Stop pestering him."

"I really have something important to discuss with him. I'm hoping he'll give me a chance to talk about a collaboration."

"Mr. Stone only works with major companies in Berdona. He won't be interested in some no-name company like yours."

Maeva opened her mouth to say more, but the receptionist was already shooing her away. "Do you not understand plain language? I should tell security to remember your face and stop you at the door… Come on, off you go. Hurry up."

Still, Maeva refused to give up. As she backed away, she pushed the document folder toward the receptionist. "This is my proposal. Please give it to Mr. Stone. There's a chance he might agree with it if he looks it over…"

The receptionist flicked her hand impatiently. "He doesn't have time for that! Move along!"

The folder hit the floor, and papers spilled everywhere. Those were all the materials Maeva had stayed up late to prepare. She bent down to gather them, and out of the corner of her eye, she saw the elevator doors slide open.

Wilson stepped out.

Her eyes lit up. She snatched up the folder, ducked under the receptionist's outstretched arm, and hurried straight toward him.

"Good day, Mr. Stone," Maeva said, stopping in front of him. "I'm Maeva Pearson, the one who's been trying to meet with you for the past few days. This is my business card, and this is my proposal. I'm confident you'll be satisfied if you just take a look at it."

Wilson, around 40, was on the short and skinny side, but his eyes were bright and sharp. He gave off a shrewd, calculating air.

"I wonder where George Pearson found such a pretty employee," he said, looking her up and down. "He's not much good at doing business, but he's got an excellent eye."

His gaze made her feel uncomfortable, like she was being sized up. Still, she forced herself to hold her ground. "Mr. Pearson is serious about doing things right now. Please give us a chance, Mr. Stone."

"Well, I can give you a chance." Wilson laughed. "There's a gathering tonight, and all the big players will be there. I'll bring you along. They're far more powerful than I am—you can talk to them about cooperation. Whether you succeed or not will depend on your own abilities."

"I'd appreciate that. Thank you, Mr. Stone."

He gave her another long, leering look, his eyes clouded with a greasy sort of interest.

Maeva clutched the folder to her chest like a shield and forced a smile. She needed to prepare well so that, hopefully, one of those big shots would take an interest in her proposal that night and agree to work with her.

The first step was always the hardest. Once she took that first step, everything afterward would get easier.

Maeva had just stepped out of Wilson's company when her phone rang. It was a call from the hospital.

"Hello, is this Maeva Pearson?"

"Yes, this is she. Who's this?"

"This is the OB-GYN department at the hospital," the woman replied. "Have you signed your surgical consent form yet? The sooner we operate, the better. If we drag this out for too long, the embryo will keep growing, and it'll cause more damage to your body."

Maeva tightened her grip on her phone.

"I understand," she said. "I'll make sure to come by the hospital sometime this week."

"Alright. The sooner, the better."

After hanging up, Maeva started rummaging through her bag. She found the surgical consent form. She carefully slipped it between the pages of the divorce agreement, lining up the edges until everything looked perfectly neat.

Only when she was sure that no one would notice anything wrong, whether at a glance or flipping through it, did she finally stop, satisfied.

Tomorrow. She would take it to David tomorrow and have him sign. With how much he despised her now, he would definitely just flip straight to the signature line and scrawl his name without even glancing at the content.