Chapter 22:A Wife for Steven

I was stunned as the woman continued.

"And what are you still doing here? Are you trying to win my son back?"

I stared at her in disbelief.

Just then, the younger woman stepped forward. "No, Mother, she is not Natasha." She moved closer to her mother's side. "Have you forgotten what she looks like?"

I let out a breath as I realized she had mistaken me for someone else.

Steven appeared from the other side of the entrance. "Mother, welcome. This is Emilia, my assistant. Emilia, this is my mother, Mrs. Ivy, and my sister, Miss Sophia."

I greeted them warmly and hoped they would be kind to me, especially after Mrs. Ivy had taken me for Natasha. Perhaps it was only her age.

I watched as they carried their small bags upstairs, with the maid helping them.

Later, I sat at my desk and gazed out of the window, at the right side, as I always did. My elbow rested on the table and my cheek against my palm. This time, I was not thinking about Rui. I was thinking about Steven's words and hoping he had meant them and was not only pretending to be kind.

A sound jolted me upright.

Sophia stood in front of my desk, her hand flat on the surface. Her eyes moved over me slowly, from head to toe.

"Emilia, right?"

"Yes."

"I just want to ask you some silly questions." She laughed and scratched her head. "So, are you really just my brother's assistant?"

"Yes, I am only his assistant."

She began tapping her long fingernails against the desk in a restless rhythm.

"Have you ever watched my brother watch football? He is so loud. I am sure he sometimes wishes he could jump in and kick the ball himself." Her grin stretched wide.

"I noticed it a few days ago," I admitted, and a small laugh escaped me. "Is it always like that?"

"Always." She looked up, as though she were thinking. "Okay, what about this: have you ever heard him talk to his tie when he is nervous?" Before I could say no, she rushed on. "And he cries a lot, you know."

My eyes widened. Was she serious? The man who pretended to be so hard cried? I burst out laughing before I could stop myself.

"Sophia!" Mrs. Ivy's voice rang down the corridor.

Sophia winked at me and slipped away. I stared at Steven's door, unable to shake what I had heard. I hope it is not true, I thought, though a small part of me hoped it was.

A few minutes later, I was buried in an assignment, but I still noticed Mrs. Ivy. She walked past my desk several times, sometimes stopping to look at me with her arms folded and her fingers tapping, as though she were solving a puzzle.

Please let her be more like Sophia, I thought.

At last, she walked straight toward me with her chin raised and her eyes fixed on mine. I could not bring myself to meet them. But she passed my desk and went directly to the window I always used, where she stood looking out at the view.

My phone buzzed. It was a message from Rui.

Hi. Have you blocked me yet? If you have not, I just want to talk. I would like to clarify things, and I would like to see you.

I stared at the screen. Why was he sending me messages like this? Why did he want to see me? He should keep far away from me. Perhaps he was only checking whether I had blocked him.

I pressed the block button without hesitation. I was his ex-wife, not his doormat, and I would not be either again.

____

The days passed, and I settled into a life that felt strangely free. There was no stress, and I simply took in what each day offered. I believed that something good was waiting for me.

Mrs. Ivy and Sophia were still living in the house, and they asked me questions constantly. Some of them I did not know how to answer, so I found ways around them.

Then, one morning, Mrs. Ivy called for me.

"Emilia, bring your notebook. Make sure you have a pen."

I exhaled and followed her down the corridor. She led me into a room I had never noticed before, tucked away at the end of the hall. The moment I stepped inside, she closed the door and locked it behind us. Then she clapped her hands twice.

To my surprise, Ten young women filed out from the far end of the room, each dressed immaculately. One touched up her lipstick every five minutes. Another kept checking her reflection in a small mirror. All of them stood perfectly still, like contestants awaiting judgment.

"Emilia, you will take notes on each of them," Mrs. Ivy said.

It felt like a competition, and the prize was Steven. Mrs. Ivy had made her intentions clear: if her son would not take action, she would take it for him.

"He is hardly uninterested in women," she muttered. "I see no reason why he is not making an effort to marry."

It began with a race. "Because my son enjoys football," Mrs. Ivy explained, "and a woman must keep up." Those who could not keep pace were told to leave. Next came a test of poise, and two women who failed to meet her standards were dismissed. I felt sorry for each of them as they left, heads lowered.

Then came the question of charm. "How will you win my son?" Mrs. Ivy demanded. "I want a grandson." One woman was too shy to answer, and she was sent away as well.

By the time we reached the tie test, five women remained. Each was given a tie and a simple scenario.

"If my son is nervous and his tie will not stay straight," Mrs. Ivy said to each, "how will you handle it?"

The women lined up, fumbling with the silk. One tugged so hard that her knot nearly choked the mannequin.

"That is how you strangle a man," Sophia whispered into my ear.

I pretended to be absorbed in my notes, but unfortunately, one of the women heard her.

"Who do you think you are to judge?" She dropped the tie and marched straight toward Sophia, her eyes blazing.

The woman stopped inches from Sophia. The room fell silent. Mrs. Ivy turned slowly in her chair, and her expression was unreadable.

Then someone knocked on the door, twice and firmly.

"Mother." It was Steven's voice, calm but clipped. "I need to speak with you."

Mrs. Ivy did not move. Her eyes drifted from the angry woman to Sophia, and finally to me, standing there with a notebook full of her notes.

"Not now, Steven," she called.

"Now, Mother."