MasukChapter 3
The next morning, her phone woke her up at seven. It was not her alarm. It was a call from a number she did not recognize. She almost ignored it, but something made her pick up. “Hello?” Lillian answered grudgingly. “Lillian Harper?” The female voice was almost too calm. “Yes. Who is this?” There was a short pause and then, “It’s Vanessa Clarke, Nathaniel's current girlfriend.” Lillian’s whole body went still. Of all the things she had expected this morning; her mother calling her for breakfast, maybe a follow-up from Nathaniel’s lawyers, this was not it. Lillian sat up slowly, her fingers tightening around the phone. “How did you get this number?” She asked. “That doesn’t matter,” Vanessa said. “I think we need to talk.” “I have nothing to say to you.” “Maybe not,” Vanessa replied. “But I have something to say to you. Something important. Something that will make this easier for both of us.” Lillian laughed, but it came out hollow. “Nathaniel told you already?” “He told me last night when he came to my apartment,” Vanessa said in a pleasant tone. “He told me everything. About the divorce and how he wants to move on. And I think you should too.” Lillian’s expression hardened. “Excuse me?” “I know how this sounds,” Vanessa continued quickly. “But listen to me before you respond. Holding on to him right now won’t change anything. He has already made up his mind, Lillian.” “He is still my husband,” Lillian said. “Even though he doesn't want me.” “And that is exactly why you should let him go with dignity,” Vanessa said. “Dragging this out will only hurt you more. You deserve better than begging for a man who has already walked away.” Lillian pushed herself out of bed and walked to the window, her pulse beginning to pound. “If you called to lecture me—” “I called to offer you a way out,” Vanessa cut in, her voice was softer now. “No unnecessary drama, no long and exhausting legal battles back and forth. Just a quiet ending where everything is settled smoothly… and you can finally have some peace.” Lillian frowned. “What are you talking about?” “I’m talking about you signing the papers,” Vanessa said. “Sign them and walk away before this turns uglier than it already is.” “And why do you care?” Lillian asked sharply. “Because I don’t want this to become a fight,” Vanessa replied. “Nathaniel doesn’t either. And honestly neither should you.” A pause followed, then Vanessa added, “I’m willing to make it worth your while.” Lillian went still. “What does that mean?” Vanessa said. “You don’t have to leave empty-handed. I know what you’ve invested in that marriage, the years, the hard work, and the pain. That deserves compensation.” Lillian let out a disbelieving laugh. “You think you can buy me off?” “I think I can make this easier for you,” Vanessa said calmly. “$50,000. Enough for you to start over comfortably.” “You are unbelievable,” Lillian said. “I’m being realistic,” Vanessa replied. “Nathaniel has already moved on. As you can see, he is with me now and we plan to get married. The only thing standing in our way is you” Lillian pressed her hand against the wall, her grip tightening. “And you think I haven't moved on?” “No,” Vanessa said. “We both know you haven't, which explains why you have refused to sign the divorce papers.” Silence stretched between them. Vanessa continued almost persuasively. “Think about it. You don’t have to see Nathaniel again. You don’t have to hear about me. You can close this chapter completely and start fresh, on your own terms.” Lillian said nothing still. “I’m not asking you to like me,” Vanessa added. “I’m asking you to be smart. Sign the papers. Take what you deserve. And leave him alone.” “Goodbye and don't you dare contact this number again,” Lillian said softly and ended the call. She stood in her old bedroom for a full minute, staring at the blank screen of her phone. Then she went downstairs.Her mother was already at the kitchen table with toast and eggs. She looked up when Lillian walked in and immediately read her face.
“Good morning, sweety,” Margaret said. “Why is your face like that?”
“Vanessa called me,” Lillian said.
Her mother set down her fork. “Vanessa Clarke called you? This morning?”
“Yes.” Lillian pulled out a chair and sat down heavily. She repeated everything Vanessa had said, word for word.
Margaret listened without interrupting. When Lillian finished, her mother was quiet for a moment.
“Do you want to sign the papers?” Margaret asked.
Lillian rubbed her temples. “I don’t know, Mama. I genuinely don’t know.”
“What if Nathaniel changes his mind—”
“It doesn’t matter if he changed his mind,” Lillian said firmly. She surprised herself with how steady her voice was. “He told me he never loved me. Those were his exact words. You don’t say that to someone and then expect them to wait around.”
Margaret nodded slowly.
“I am not signing those papers yet,” Lillian continued. “Not because I want him back. I need time to think clearly. Without him. Without Vanessa. Without any of it.”
Her mother reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “Okay, sweety. You've got all the time you need.”
Just then, the doorbell rang.
Margaret frowned and said. “I am not expecting anyone.”
She stood and walked to the door. Lillian stayed at the kitchen table, staring at her untouched plate.
She heard the door open. Then her mother’s surprised voice. “Nathaniel.”
Lillian’s head snapped up.
“Mrs. Harper.” Nathaniel’s voice came clearly through the hallway. “I apologize for coming without notice. I need to speak with Lillian,” he said. “Please,” he added.
Lillian stood up slowly from the table. She walked to the kitchen doorway and stopped when she saw him.
Nathaniel Brooks stood at the front door looking nothing like the powerful, cold man who had slammed divorce papers on a table the night before. His shirt was slightly wrinkled and his eyes looked tired, as if he had not slept at all.
Nathaniel looked at her across the hallway. “Lillian,” he said quietly. “Please can we talk?”
Lillian held his gaze and said nothing for a long moment. Then she replied, “You have five minutes.”
Lillian Carter hurried straight to the foundation. As the taxi came to a halt, her eyes caught two people live streaming, passionately discussing the city’s women.The moment they saw Lillian stepping out in scrubs, the chat exploded into chaos.“Whoa! That's Lillian Harper!! Am I seeing things?”"No way, it’s real! There are only two in all of Los Angeles—the other belongs to some mysterious billionaire, and I hear the one who brought it was a rich stranger!"“She’s, the one divorced by her husband, the one who put Patricia Brooks behind bars.”“Yeah, I saw that… It was trending not long ago. Wasn’t it some big shot? The Elite and their secrets,” another commentator added.“Streamer, get closer! Ask her something!”As Lillian made her way to the foundation office, the chat went into overdrive.The three streamers stared in disbelief, stunned that they were staring directly at Lillian.“What? Rich people dress down? Look at her in those scrubs. Is she even the right person, or just on
Lillian's phone buzzed on her kitchen counter.It was not a text. It was a photo. Then another. Then another. Twelve in a row.Nathaniel's love letters. But Lillian didn't open it, she hurried straight in scrubs to the cab waiting for her.She was headed to Arthur's Vance estate. As they reached the gate in the blistering rain. The driver honked but no response till two burly men walked, the mansion security detail. One of knocks at the window while Lillian's phone kept ringing Arthur Vance but he didn't pick. “This is private property, you need to leave.” One of them said. Fisting angrily at the vehicle.The other pulls out a radio communicating with someone over the phone. Examining the vehicle like a decoy as they circle round. “I'm Lillian Brooks, I'm here to see Arthur Vance.” She yelled her voice cutting throw the noisy droplet and thunderstorm. Lillian steps in the cold rain, like a woman crazy sending them off the Cab.She stood drenched in the rain, insisting they let her
One day left.One day left on the twelve-month clause that said if Lillian divorced in twelve months, she gets controlling shares. One day left before she could file for divorce and keep 50% or not file and keep 50% anyway because she filed the deed at 11:47 p.m. One day left before she had to decide if she wanted to be Mrs. Brooks or just Lillian Harper, nurse, who happens to own half a company and happens to be married to a man who is learning how to live inside a fortress.One day left and three white bottles on her sill that said For Lillian and For Gerald and For the next one.One day left and ten letters, two lockets, three diaries, three plants, one toolbox with empty bottom compartments, one briefcase full of security footage, one adoption papers, one torn page 48, one succulent that survives even if you forget it.One day left and a photo of herself being watched through her own window at 3:08 a.m. by someone who wrote You have one day left. Decide. Or I decide for you. - P.
The tenth letter was from Victoria.Not William. Victoria.Lillian opened it at 3:07 a.m., sitting on her apartment floor, surrounded by soil from three plants that survive even if you forget them, even if someone overturns them, hugging Vanessa, with Nathaniel replanting, with Victoria shouting from the street.Inside, in Victoria's neat, ruthless handwriting:Lillian, You have to decide tonight. Not tomorrow. Tonight. Because tomorrow the clause expires and you have to file or not file divorce and keep 50% or not keep 50% and be Mrs. Brooks or just Lillian Harper, nurse. You have to decide what kind of powerful woman you want to be. Not the kind who takes $50,000 and thanks for service. Not the kind who takes 50% and thanks for service. The kind who decides, not because a clause says so, not because a deed says so, not because a mother forced a father, not because a lawyer added a line, but because she wants to. So decide. Tonight. And whatever you decide, I will file it. For free.
Lillian ran to her third-floor apartment at 2:17 a.m., alone, because she had learned not to come alone to the Brooks estate, but she had not learned not to come alone to her own apartment about freedom.The front door was open, just like in the photo. The three plants overturned on the floor, soil spilled, one expensive green one, two small succulents that survive if you forget them, now not surviving.And written on her living room wall in red lipstick, in her own handwriting from three years ago, and William's shaky handwriting underneath:IF YOU ARE READING THIS, SOMEONE DID NOT WANT THE WILL TO BE READ. TRUST NO ONE. - L.H.You were right, Lillian. Someone didn't want the will to be read. It was me. I didn't want you to read it because I knew you would become more powerful than any of us. And you have. - W.Lillian stared at her own handwriting on her own wall, in her own apartment about freedom, and felt the floor shift again, just like that first night with divorce papers on a
There was no ninth letter.Victoria said there was no ninth letter. Gerald said there was no ninth letter. William only wrote eight. The white bottles were the last secret. The rest they have to write themselves. Without $50,000 and thanks for service.But Lillian found a ninth envelope anyway.It was taped under William's desk, where Patricia's shotgun once rested, where James's toolbox once sat, where Grace's adoption papers were stolen, where Eleanor's diary was hidden.Cream envelope, single initial: L. Again. Same as the eighth. Same handwriting. But fresher ink. Not shaky. Neat.Lillian opened it at 2 a.m., alone in William's study, while everyone else slept on cold marble or on couches or in police cars, while Nathaniel slept on Margaret's couch holding soup, while Grace slept in Lillian's old apartment with three plants, while James slept with his empty toolbox, while Vanessa slept in stained scrubs holding a briefcase.Inside was not a letter from William.Inside was a letter







