Chapter 3

The moment I stepped out of Pierce Corporation, a gust of wind slipped down my collar.

My phone rang.

“Ms. Shaw? The cardiac support device you ordered has arrived.”

I froze for a moment.

Adrian had pulled a lot of strings to get that device before the soul swap.

It was still in clinical trials.

He had gone through all that trouble because my grandmother had always had a weak heart.

I rushed to the nursing facility and handed the device over to her doctor.

When Grandma saw that I had come alone, she glanced toward the door twice.

“Where’s Adrian? I haven’t seen him in two weeks. Did you two have a fight?”

“No.”

I tucked the blanket more securely around her.

“He’s been busy lately. He’ll come see you in a few days.”

Grandma sighed.

“At my age, who knows how many ‘few days’ I have left?”

Then, as always, she started fussing over Adrian.

“Adrian always gets an upset stomach when he catches a chill. Make sure he keeps his stomach warm.

“And don’t laugh at that old herbal remedy I taught you last time. It works.

“If he hadn’t brought in those specialists three years ago, I probably wouldn’t even be here now.”

I lowered my head with a small smile.

But my eyes stung.

Sometimes, even when someone wasn’t there, traces of them remained everywhere.

The device was one.

Grandma talking about Adrian was another.

So I could only keep waiting.

Fifteen more days.

That evening, when I returned to the house, I pressed my finger against the scanner at the front door.

“Fingerprint not recognized.”

The mechanical voice was cold and unmistakably clear.

[Hahaha! He even deleted her fingerprint. Now does she understand who the real lady of the house is?]

[Vivian already moved in. How does the supporting female lead still have the nerve to come back?]

[Young Adrian said he’d give Vivian a home, and he really meant it!]

I stood outside without moving.

Mr. Walker appeared on the other side of the security panel, looking deeply uncomfortable.

“Mrs. Pierce, Mr. Pierce gave instructions that from now on, if you come back, we have to ask his permission first.”

Vivian’s voice floated from inside.

“Mr. Walker, let Ms. Shaw in. It’s cold outside.”

The door opened.

As I stepped inside, a thought suddenly crossed my mind.

What if one day, the twenty-eight-year-old Adrian stopped loving me too?

My home.

My front door.

Everything I had taken for granted.

Apparently, all it took was one sentence from someone else to shut me out.

The thought slowed my steps.

Vivian came over to greet me.

“Ms. Shaw, don’t blame Adrian. He was just worried I wouldn’t feel comfortable living here.”

I ignored her.

Adrian was sprawled across the couch playing a video game.

Without even looking up, he said, “I already contacted an attorney.”

“Tomorrow, I’m getting everything I own formally transferred to Vivian.”

He paused.

“Including this house.”

This time, I really did stop.

I could protect my share of our marital property.

But anything Adrian had owned before our marriage was legally his to dispose of.

By the time the twenty-eight-year-old Adrian returned, some of those things might be impossible to recover.

Of course I wanted to stop him.

But I couldn’t say anything.

Right now, Adrian was convinced I only cared about his money.

If I tried to talk him out of it, he would only take it as proof that I was reluctant to give up his assets.

Worse, he might give Vivian even more just to prove me wrong.

So all I could do was watch.

Mr. Walker stopped me at the bottom of the stairs.

“Mrs. Pierce, your belongings... Mr. Pierce had them moved into the guest room.”

The smallest guest room was tucked away at the far end of the hall.

My clothes and jewelry had been dumped across the bed.

Several of my handbags lay crooked on the floor.

I stood in the doorway for a long time before slowly walking inside.

That was when my mother-in-law called.

“Anna, my birthday dinner is Wednesday. Come early and help me greet the guests.”

“Okay.”

After hanging up, I bent down and picked up a dress from the floor.

Suddenly, I didn’t feel like counting down the days anymore.

I opened my messages and texted my personal attorney.

“Put together a complete list of all marital assets that can be divided.”

Over the next few days, the bills kept coming.

Jewelry.

Designer bags.

Sports cars.

It was as if Adrian wanted to make up for everything his eighteen-year-old self had never been able to give Vivian, all at once.

I stopped interfering.

Instead, I went into the study and pulled out the investment banking notebooks I hadn’t touched in six years.

A layer of dust covered them.

I opened them again.

Then I started reaching out to former colleagues.

Piece by piece, I began rebuilding the assets, connections, and career I had once put aside.