Chapter 2

From that day on, Lindsay actually started acting like a proper wife. She stayed by Mason's bedside every single day, bringing him food and water, taking his temperature, and fetching his meds.

Even when he repeatedly brought up divorce and told her to keep her distance, she pretended not to understand a word of it. For an entire week, she waited outside the newspaper office every evening to pick him up from work.

In the past, getting the proud, high-and-mighty Lindsay Statham to stand out in the freezing wind for several hours just to pick him up from work was something Mason wouldn't even dare dream about.

But now, it was really happening, though only as compensation—a way to make up for the identity that Harry had stolen from him.

Looking at Lindsay standing just a few steps away from the newspaper office's entrance, Mason did exactly what he'd done the last few days—he ignored her and walked straight past her.

He'd only taken a few steps toward the bus stop when a slender arm shot out in front of him and stopped him. Lindsay frowned slightly and said, "The bus here only comes once an hour. By the time you get on and then transfer, it'll take you two hours to get home. What's so bad about me giving you a ride?"

Mason checked the time on his phone, then asked flatly, "Are you sure you don't have anything more important to do right now?"

Setting aside the first few days, he honestly hadn't expected her to show up again on this day. After all, this was the day Harry flew back. He'd made it very clear that he wanted Lindsay to pick him up, and he'd made such a big deal out of it that even Mason knew which flight it was.

Lindsay didn't even hesitate at his question. She said, "I told you I'd take our marriage seriously. I'm not gonna get involved with anyone else."

Mason curled his lips.

Ever since Harry had left the country five years ago, Lindsay had spent almost half her time overseas. Her bookshelf was crammed with hundreds of boarding passes, and every last one flew straight to Lumiere, where Harry was.

For feelings that deep to be tossed aside just for Mason—a man she'd never even spared a glance at before—was something anyone would find laughable.

"Stop with this tantrum." Lindsay didn't want to waste any more time arguing on the sidewalk. "It's still early. I booked us a table at a restaurant so we can go on a date. As long as you play along, I'll do what you asked and… go visit Landon's grave."

For the first time, something flickered across Mason's face. Ever since Landon was born, the number of times Lindsay had actually met with him could be counted on one hand.

Other kids grew up smothered in affection, cradled in their mothers' arms, and showered with love. Landon could only hide behind a wall, peeking at Lindsay from a distance before running off.

Why? Because Lindsay had laid down the rule that whenever she was home, neither Mason nor Landon was allowed to show their faces in front of her. Seeing them annoyed her.

No matter how broken things were between Mason and Lindsay, Landon… would still want to see his mother, wouldn't he?

…

Nearly every sales associate in a luxury boutique at a mall snuck curious, envious glances at Mason. They all wondered how a man dressed so plainly, with nothing to his name, could be accompanied by such an effortlessly elegant woman. On top of that, she didn't even bat an eye when swiping her black card for his clothes.

If this had been in the past, getting such treatment would've left Mason stunned and secretly delighted. He would've been willing to swallow his pride and play along for Landon's sake.

Now, all he felt was how wrong it all was. This so-called date he and Lindsay were on only felt awkward. He was miserable, and from the look on her face, she wasn't exactly having a great time, either.

Even after they were seated in an upscale steakhouse, with Lindsay expertly pointing out dishes on the menu and discussing them with the waiter, all Mason could think about was when this would finally be over.

Just then, a man in a casual suit strode straight toward their table.

Before Mason could even look up, the man grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back. Then, he snatched up the red wine from the table and dumped it over his head.