Chapter 2

I signed the document, and the cremation proceeded.

There was no need to inform my mother. My parents had already divorced, and my father never remarried. My grandparents were too old for news like this.

During the process, a colleague sent me a screenshot of Lucinda's latest status. It showed two three-day passes to a famous theme park.

I searched the social media site, only to discover that she had blocked me.

A message popped up in the chat: [Brianna, do you know Mr. Mitchell's taking Lucinda on a trip?]

I tightened my grip on my phone. The message wasn't sent out of concern for me. It was just another one of Lucinda's lackeys doing her dirty work. She had no shortage of toadies eager to provoke me and fish for a reaction.

I turned off the screen and carried my father's urn with me to the courthouse.

Our divorce agreement had already been prepared the month before. Lance had signed it without hesitation.

Back then…

Watching him approve it without even checking the contents prompted me to ask, "Are you sure you don't want to read what's written there?"

He set down his pen and pushed the document back toward me.

"Why? I trust you enough!" he said impatiently.

The Lance I knew in the past would never have relied on trust alone. No matter how meticulous I was, he always reviewed my reports himself to ensure everything was up to standard.

None of that applied to Lucinda. Every document she submitted passed without review. I had voiced my concerns before, but he was completely unfazed.

"The document is complicated. I might end up requesting amendments that make things worse because I made mistakes while reviewing it."

"If a complicated document could confuse you, why wouldn't it confuse Lucinda?" I argued.

He chuckled. "She's my secretary. Of course I trust her."

…

At the time, I thought he had simply changed. Then I watched him draft three different project proposals for Lucinda as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, and I realized it wasn't trust that had made him stop reviewing documents and reading the fine print. He simply had something more important to him.

A month had passed since we submitted our divorce agreement. It was time to make it official.

The clerk handed me a form and said, "We need Mr. Mitchell to be here and sign this personally before it can be finalized. Where is he?"

I checked Lance's flight details. "He's taken his new girlfriend on a trip."

The clerk paused and looked at me sympathetically. "I see. Still, we need at least a verbal confirmation from Mr. Mitchell to proceed if he cannot be here in person."

I nodded and called him.

It took three attempts before he finally answered at the end of the third call.

"How dare you call me when you still haven't deleted that comment like I told you to?! She's still waiting for your apology! If you're not going to do those things, then we're never retrieving your father's body from the hospital!" he barked the moment he answered.

It was his favorite tactic. Whenever I refused to do what he wanted, he resorted to threats. He was especially fond of using them whenever the issue involved Lucinda. If she felt upset, he would immediately assume that I was at fault and demand an apology, regardless of the truth.

One time, I needed surgery after a serious injury, and a direct family member had to sign the consent form. He told me I had to apologize to Lucinda or he would refuse to sign it. If my condition worsened to the point that I had to lose a leg, all the better. It would be a lesson I would never forget, he had said.

After that, he hung up.

I tried calling again, but he had already switched off his phone.

"This tells you his position on the matter, right?" I asked.

The clerk nodded and continued processing my paperwork while I waited for more than 20 minutes with my father's urn resting on my lap.

Many people in the hall noticed me and looked at me with pity.

I brushed my fingers lightly through his ashes.

Then, suddenly, Lance called.

"Where are you?! Why aren't you at the company?!"

I stared out the window in silence. He didn't ask any further questions. He never really cared where I was.

"Wherever you are, go to Lucy's house and feed her goldfish. Also, clean and tidy her room while you're there," he demanded.

"No, let's not ask Brianna to do that. She's already busy enough as it is!" Lucinda said worriedly from the side. "I can just hire a cleaning service."