Chapter 2

Faced with my silence, Michael continued, "Honestly, I always thought your mom had the face of someone destined to die young. Even if she hadn't been run over, she probably wouldn't have lived any longer. You should count yourself lucky to be getting three thousand dollars out of this!

"Now, take the money, buy something nice for Layla, and apologize to her at the office tomorrow. We'll put this whole matter to rest."

With that, Michael left the money behind and walked away without another glance.

As I watched his resolute figure disappear into the distance, it suddenly hit me. The lawyer who once fought for justice had completely rotted from the inside out. This marriage had also run its course.

…

The next day, I drafted the divorce agreement and went to Michael's law firm.

The moment I stepped into the office, I saw Michael, a man so severely germaphobic he hated physical contact, kneeling on one knee as he gently massaged Layla's foot.

There was a tenderness in his eyes that I had never received from him.

The instant Layla saw me, she pretended to look flustered. "Oh, Bianca. Please don't get this wrong. I-I twisted my ankle, and Mikey was only helping massage it for me out of kindness."

As she spoke, she quickly pulled her foot back and tugged at Michael's sleeve anxiously. "Mikey, hurry and explain! I don't want to lose my job…"

He patted her back affectionately and comforted her, "Hey, you're fine. She's here to apologize to you."

Then, he looked at me with open disdain, his voice turning cold. "Didn't I tell you to bring a gift or something? Why did you come empty-handed? I'm sure you're old enough to know how to apologize properly."

I couldn't be bothered arguing with him anymore. Coldly, I pulled the divorce agreement out of my bag and handed it to Michael. "Sign it. We're getting divorced."

He stared at the papers for a moment, visibly caught off guard. An irritated frown soon twisted his face.

"What are you up to this time? You know my mom only ever accepted you as her daughter-in-law. She'd never agree to us divorcing. You're doing all this just so she'll straighten me out, right?"

It seemed he still remembered Martha, after all.

I forced a bitter smile and coldly said, "She'll never be able to do that again."

Michael's face dropped. "What does that mean?"

I looked at him solemnly. "Go home and see for yourself."

He glared impatiently at me. "Alright. Enough with the games and riddles. So what if your mom died? Why are we still dragging this out? Get out of my office and stop embarrassing me. I'm not divorcing you."

Layla, who had been enjoying the show from the sidelines, suddenly wiped at her non-existent tears and began sobbing at just the right moment.

"Bianca, even though I bought my driver's license, and my driving skills are bad, what happened that day still wasn't my fault! You're trying to bring up divorce now to threaten Mikey into sending me to prison, aren't you?"

She looked so pitiful and wronged, as if she were the real victim in all of this. The teary, fragile look on her face immediately broke Michael's heart.

He pulled her straight into his arms. "Alright, Layla. Don't cry. As long as I'm here, you'll never go to jail."

Then, he glared at me. "Layla's just a kid, Bianca. Do you really have to target her like this? You think waving divorce papers in my face will make me stop defending her? Keep dreaming!

"I'm telling you, your mom died for nothing! You're not getting a single penny in compensation, and you will not lay a finger on Layla either!"

Watching Michael stand protectively in front of the woman who had killed his mother while directing that misplaced hostility toward me, I couldn't help feeling heartbroken for Martha all over again.

But forget it. If her son had taken this stance, then what right did I, a soon-to-be ex-wife, have to say anything more?

I took a deep breath and enunciated, "We're splitting up, whether you like it or not."

He was so livid that he tore the divorce agreement into pieces and tossed them into the air.