Chapter 2

Whitney stood frozen. Her gaze darted between the young man in Claire's arms and me sitting there in my loungewear, my expression stoic.

"Claire," she began, her voice strained. "Didn't you say you were going back to your family?"

A mocking laugh escaped Claire as she sauntered over to the dining table and glanced at the bowl of soup.

"Girl, you actually believed me?"

She patted Whitney on the shoulder, disdain crossing her face as she glanced at me.

"It's just a man. Sweet-talk him a little, and he'll be fine. How could you actually cook for him? That's so beneath you."

Whitney stiffened. What she feared most was being embarrassed in front of her friends.

I watched her coldly, waiting to see how she'd respond.

Suddenly, Whitney turned around and picked up the bowl of soup—the very one she'd spent four hours simmering and burned her hand making.

"Who said I made it especially for him?"

Right in front of everyone, she poured the entire bowl straight into the nearby trash can.

"I was just practicing, Claire," she said airily, not even sparing me a glance. "Come on. I'll take you all out for drinks."

As she grabbed her car keys and strode to the door, the young man beside Claire burst out laughing.

"Ms. Shaw really has some charm," he remarked. "She's way better than those women who need their husbands to keep them in line."

With her ego thoroughly stroked, Whitney immediately straightened her back.

Just as she reached the doorway, she stopped and tossed a cold remark over her shoulder.

"Sean, I'll pretend I never heard that nonsense about divorce. Your mom's rehabilitation expenses for the rest of the year are due soon.

"You'd better think carefully. Once you divorce me, who's going to pay for that bottomless pit?"

The door closed behind her.

I stared at the bowl of soup sitting in the trash for a few moments before taking out my phone and dialing a number.

"Ms. Grant, Whitney just tore up the agreement."

Keira Grant's voice came from the other end.

"Don't worry. The divorce petition she filed with the court three months ago has already taken effect. The notice of the default judgment would be delivered to her tomorrow."

"Good," I replied with a smile. "Thank you for your help."

…

The next morning, Whitney came home reeking of alcohol and cheap perfume. She tossed her coat onto the couch, slipped off her heels, and walked over to me.

I was having breakfast in the dining room.

"That college boy Claire brought yesterday was pretty good-looking, but I didn't sleep with another man last night," she said, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

"Claire said a woman was expected to play along when she was out having fun. She stayed faithful to her husband out of affection.

"I did you such a huge favor. Don't you think you should show me some appreciation?"

I swallowed my wholemeal bread and glanced up at her. "What kind of appreciation do you want? Should I give you a medal for your virtue?"

Whitney's expression immediately changed as she rose to her feet.

"Sean, don't be so sarcastic," she spat. "I didn't even bring Brian yesterday because I was trying to protect you in front of my friends. What more do you want?"

She actually had the nerve to call abandoning her lover an act of protection.

I set down my glass of milk.

"Whitney, have you forgotten? Three months ago, you left me alone at the hospital while I was bleeding to death and waiting for emergency surgery—all for Brian. All now you're telling me that not bringing him along was some kind of favor to me?"

At the mention of my surgery, something flickered in Whitney's eyes.

"That was an accident!" she argued. "Claire's husband was in a car accident too. He only needed half a month to recover before he went skiing with Claire. Do you really have to hold a grudge for this long?"

Irritated, she ran a hand through her hair before pulling a velvet box from her pocket and throwing it onto the dining table.

"Fine. Stop making a fuss," she grumbled. "Claire bought that college boy a Rolex yesterday, so I bought you the exact same one.

"Put it on and take a look. Then we'll consider the matter settled."

I stared at the box, not even feeling the slightest urge to open it.

"Claire bought that for her lover, yet you bought the same thing to give to your husband," I said, meeting her gaze. "Whitney, are you trying to copy Claire, or insult me?"

My words sent Whitney into a fit of rage. She snatched the box and hurled it onto the floor. It sprang open on impact, and an expensive diamond-set watch tumbled out.

"Sean, don't be so ungrateful!" she hissed. "I was willing to spend money to placate you because I still considered you my husband!

"If you keep acting like this, don't blame me for bringing Brian back. You think I won't?"

The moment she finished speaking, the doorbell rang again.

Whitney frowned and went to open the door.

Standing outside was none other than Brian, the very man she'd claimed to have cut ties with completely.