Chapter 5

Sophie quickly pulled up her collar.

"There were so many mosquitoes last night. I kept waking up because they were biting me."

Sean didn't seem to have much of an appetite either.

He stood and gave Liam an instruction.

"Have someone take care of the mosquitoes outside."

Liam nodded and followed him out.

Once they were in the car, Liam took the wheel while Sean settled into the back seat.

Glancing at his boss through the rearview mirror, Liam couldn't help wondering.

Mrs. Shaw had brought up divorce, but Sean didn't seem bothered at all.

Even after working for him for so many years, Liam sometimes had no idea what went on in the man's head.

Everyone said Sean Shaw was impossible to read. Since Liam had managed to stay by his side for so long, people naturally assumed he must be an expert at figuring out what his boss wanted.

But Liam was just as clueless as everyone else.

His hands tightened slightly around the steering wheel.

"Mr. Shaw, would you like me to find out where Mrs. Shaw is working now?"

Sean sat in the back in a dark suit, his laptop open on his lap.

He'd started working the moment he got into the car.

As usual.

Sean was always in control, never allowing his emotions to get the better of him.

His effortless confidence and polished composure were the result of years spent among the wealthy and powerful.

"No need."

His tone was indifferent.

His fingers didn't even pause over the keyboard.

Liam sighed inwardly.

So much for being good at reading his boss.

—

Wendy had studied law years ago, but after moving overseas, she'd met a mentor who introduced her to investigative journalism.

Two years ago, she'd exposed one of the most shocking international child-trafficking cases in recent history.

She spent three months undercover, risking her life to capture the evidence.

Her mentor had once told her she had a reckless streak that most journalists lacked.

She wasn't afraid to put her life on the line.

Being a journalist meant uncovering the truth, no matter how cruel or horrifying it might be.

You couldn't bury the facts simply because they were too painful to face.

Three years ago, Wendy had just suffered a miscarriage when she learned that she wasn't the Wynns' biological daughter.

She was a child who'd been switched at birth, with no idea who her real parents were.

And when she'd lost her baby, the one person who should have stood by her had abandoned her.

Instead of helping his bleeding wife, Sean had carried the injured Sophie away, leaving Wendy lying on the ground.

One devastating blow after another had pushed her beyond what she could bear.

For a time, she lost her ability to speak.

It was during that period that she met her mentor.

Wendy's mentor had told her that if she cared so little about her own life, she might as well put that recklessness to use doing something worthwhile.

Then she'd shown her several photographs of abused children.

"These kids were perfectly healthy when they were trafficked. If they resisted, their captors broke their arms and legs and forced them to beg on the streets. The ones who obeyed were sold off.

"You almost became a mother yourself. Surely this means something to you."

It did far more than that.

It made her furious.

She thought of the baby she'd never gotten the chance to hold.

The grief and hatred nearly tore her apart.

Wendy had never studied journalism.

But her mentor told her she didn't need to.

All she needed was the courage to film what she saw, speak the truth, and fight to expose it.

There had been a time when Wendy was a pampered young woman who'd never known real hardship.

But during those three months undercover, she ate spoiled food and endured beatings every few days.

Strangely enough, the physical suffering helped clear her head.

Perhaps she'd already experienced so much emotional devastation that pain no longer frightened her the way it once had.

She managed to secretly film the traffickers transporting children.

She captured footage of the abuse.

She even got clear shots of several perpetrators' faces.

Then, with the precious footage in her possession, she escaped by jumping from a moving vehicle.

Her mentor later told her she'd been right about her.

She really did have no regard for her own safety.

The investigation became an international sensation.

It made headlines around the world.

Mothers of trafficked children left heartbreaking comments beneath the reports, while countless others praised the journalist brave enough to uncover the evidence.

Wendy thought about it for a while before choosing a professional name for herself.

Jaca.

It was under that name that she officially entered the public eye as a journalist.

Her very first investigation had made international headlines.

Her mentor said she had a natural talent for the profession.

So she continued learning from her while pursuing increasingly difficult stories, focusing on subjects other journalists were afraid to touch.

Before long, Jaca had become a widely recognized name in international journalism.

But no one knew the woman behind that name was Wendy Wynn.

A few months ago, Jaca created an account on a social media platform.

Within a single night, she'd gained millions of followers.

Only then did the media discover that Jaca was from Kingswell.

Yet she hadn't posted a single update on the account.

Instead, her followers had taken it upon themselves to organize numerous charity initiatives in her name.

Everyone understood that exposing powerful criminal networks could put a journalist's life in danger.

No one wanted Jaca to reveal her identity and risk her safety.

But the mystery surrounding her had also attracted plenty of attention seekers hoping to exploit her fame.

Whenever someone tried to use her name for publicity, her followers immediately called them out.

They were fiercely protective of her.

And Wendy could feel their love and support.

Over the past three years, she'd experienced a world far bigger than the one she'd left behind.

She no longer felt trapped by the people and painful memories of Kingswell.

She'd genuinely fallen in love with journalism.

This time, however, she'd accepted an assignment from her mentor that required her to return home.

She'd arranged for her to work temporarily at a local television station, explaining that she had another assignment planned for her later.

For now, Wendy simply needed to report to the station and start her new job.

Her mentor had forbidden her from using the name Jaca at the station, so Wendy had no choice but to work under her real name.

She hadn't gone through the station's usual hiring process. As far as everyone else was concerned, she'd gotten the job through connections.

Needless to say, her arrival wasn't exactly welcome.

When Wendy was escorted into the news department, she immediately sensed the tension in the room.

A chair scraped loudly across the floor.

A woman in her early thirties abruptly stood up, gave a contemptuous snort in front of everyone, and stormed out.

The employee showing Wendy around looked embarrassed.

"This is your desk. Someone will come by later to get you up to speed on your assignments. The woman who just left was our on-camera reporter. She's been replaced. You're younger, and you've got a more camera-friendly face, so the department decided to put you on air instead."

Wendy blinked, her brows drawing together.

Her mentor hadn't mentioned any of this.

No wonder that woman was upset.

Wendy had barely arrived, and she'd already taken someone else's position in front of the camera.

Anyone would have been unhappy about that.

The television station was a large operation, with each department handling its own responsibilities.

Everyone in Wendy's department had a degree in journalism or media studies, most of them from the country's top schools.

Wendy, on the other hand, had studied law in college.

Her degree had nothing to do with journalism.

The woman at the desk beside hers rolled her eyes and deliberately raised her voice.

"Must be nice having connections. She shows up out of nowhere and takes Ms. Grant's job just like that. Wonder how she pulled that off. Her pretty face, or something else?"

Everyone immediately looked over at Wendy, their expressions openly hostile.

Grace Grant was thirty-four this year.

On-camera reporting was generally considered a young person's game, and several people in the department had been eyeing her position.

They'd all been waiting for the year-end reshuffle, hoping they'd finally get their chance.

Instead, halfway through the year, a complete outsider had swooped in and taken the job.

And to make matters worse, the newcomer was stunning.

Who knew if she'd slept with some executive to get the position?

That sort of thing was hardly unheard of at the station.

There were so many people hired through connections that practically everyone seemed to be related to someone in management.

But even by those standards, Wendy's appointment was unusually blatant.

Still, no matter how unhappy they were, no one dared take things too far.

Instead, they collectively gave her the cold shoulder.

Wendy couldn't have cared less.

When she'd worked overseas with her mentor, results were all that mattered.

In less than three years, she'd broken eight major stories under the name Jaca.

Every single one had been big enough to spark international debate.

Her mentor might have pulled some strings to get her into this station, but Wendy knew she had more than earned her place.

So really, it wasn't that her coworkers were excluding her.

She was the one who had no interest in dealing with any of them.

From the moment she'd returned to Kingswell, she'd made up her mind not to let anyone push her around again.

She simply tuned out their snide remarks.

Then someone decided to take a more direct shot at her.

"You should learn a thing or two from Jaca. Now there's a real journalist. Nobody even knows what she looks like, but her work speaks for itself. She's miles ahead of the competition. She doesn't need to rely on a pretty face like you."

Wendy caught the unmistakable admiration in the woman's eyes when she mentioned Jaca.

Suddenly, arguing seemed completely pointless.

She quietly settled in at her desk and worked through the assignments handed over to her.

When the workday ended, she took a cab back to the villa.

To her surprise, Sean was already home.

It was rare for him to finish work this early.

Of course, Wendy wasn't foolish enough to assume he'd come home to wait for her.

"Sean."

She greeted him, eager to settle their divorce and move out as soon as possible.

Sean looked up.

"Your parents want us to come over for dinner."

His tone was indifferent.

Wendy smiled.

She reached into her bag and pulled out the divorce papers she'd prepared in advance.

"There's no need. This won't take much of your time. Just sign the papers, and we can get the divorce registered tomorrow. No point dragging things out and making everyone miserable."

Sean studied her face.

She was smiling, but there was something almost confrontational about it.

In the past, her eyes had always lit up whenever she looked at him.

He'd seen what Wendy looked like when she was in love.

And that was precisely why he could tell something had changed.

Perhaps she really didn't love him anymore.

She was desperate to get away from this place.

So desperate that she wasn't even trying to hide it.

Sean lowered his gaze to the divorce agreement.

Wendy had already signed her name.

She wasn't asking for a single thing.

No money. No property. Nothing.

Her handwriting was neat and elegant.

He remained silent for several seconds.

Then he picked up the fountain pen beside him and signed his name.

He slipped the agreement into a document folder, gathered it with the other files beside him, and handed everything to Liam.

Liam accepted the folder, suddenly feeling an inexplicable weight on his shoulders.

He hadn't expected his boss to sign so quickly.

Had he been wrong about Sean all along?

Sean remained perfectly composed.

He rose to his feet, his expression as cool and unreadable as ever.

"We'll go to the courthouse tomorrow. Can we have dinner now?"

Wendy glanced at the signed divorce agreement, satisfied.

Then she turned toward the stairs.

"I'll meet you outside the courthouse at eleven tomorrow morning. As for dinner with the Wynns, I'll pass. That's not my family anymore."

She paused and looked back at him.

"Sean, let's end this on good terms. You'll be there on time, won't you?"