Chapter 2

The car pulled into the gated community and stopped in front of a three-story villa with a private garden.

Marisol handed the keys to the housekeeper and strode inside. The rush of warm air enveloped her and melted away the chill. Ignoring the staff, she headed straight upstairs to pack.

The thought of Lucian reconnecting with Nevaeh behind her back—even involving their son—made her stomach churn with nausea. She couldn't stand another minute in this house.

She didn't take much: just undergarments, a few winter outfits, and the expensive jewelry she often wore. She stuffed them all into a large suitcase. When she reached the nightstand, her fingers brushed against a secondary card tucked inside.

It was linked to Lucian's account.

Lucian had treated their marriage as a forced arrangement by his parents from the beginning. He had been keeping her at arm's length. He never gave her an allowance—their son had his own card, but Marisol only ever had this one.

Back when she was still blinded by love, she'd thought this shared card was a sign of trust. Later, she realized it was surveillance, as Lucian would be notified of every transaction.

Still, Marisol rarely used it. If she did, it was only for household expenses. She relied on her own salary most of the time.

She had gotten her job on her own too.

Back then, she'd applied to Muller Group's tech division as she wanted to be closer to Lucian. With her PhD in Computer Science from Everton University, her résumé showed that she was more than qualified—yet she was rejected outright. She was not even given an interview.

She only found out later that it was on Lucian's orders. He had told Muller Group not to accept her. What was it that he said to her then?

"If you want to be Mrs. Muller, then stay home and be Mrs. Muller. Stay out of company affairs."

Looking back now, every memory from the past seven years cut deep. Had they ever really been husband and wife?

Marisol left the card where it was, taking only her jewelry. She didn't have the patience to sort through the rest. After zipping the suitcase shut, she hauled it downstairs.

The housekeeper, Wanda Smith, emerged from the kitchen at the sound of movement. When she saw Marisol carrying a suitcase, she was startled and hurried after her. "Mrs. Muller, what's this about?"

"Business trip." Marisol brushed her off without explanation.

After so many years of marriage and sharing the same bed with Lucian, she knew his temperament all too well. He was ruthless, vindictive, and unforgiving. His business tactics aside, he'd given her the silent treatment for seven years over premarital disagreements.

She wouldn't show her hand until after consulting her lawyer tomorrow. With love gone, only money remained.

She'd served that father and son for seven years. Even if asset division proved difficult, she deserved compensation for all those years under his distrust.

…

After leaving the villa, Marisol drove to her company's vicinity. She'd already rented a fully furnished luxury apartment on the way here, so there was no point in staying long in this area.

She was working in the tech department of a bank right now. Over the past three years, Marisol had worked her way up from an ordinary developer to a team leader in the department, though she never truly loved the profession.

She initially chose computer science at Everton University because it paid well—and back then, she needed the money. An undergraduate degree was enough to earn what she required before pursuing her real passion.

But later, she buried her love for art and design when she learned of Lucian's interest in computers and AI, hoping to bridge the distance between them. She stayed at Everton for her PhD, determined to create common ground.

That was how she succeeded in earning her doctorate in computer science.

Yet it cost her dearly. Her great-aunt, Emilia Speight, who was an internationally renowned traditional fashion designer, had cut ties with her seven years ago. She believed Marisol was wasting her talent, and they never spoke again after the wedding.

Even after all that, it brought her no closer to Lucian. The distance between them remained as vast as ever. Looking back now, she realized she must have seemed like a joke in his eyes—clinging to foolish, one-sided devotion.

Now that she was divorcing him, Marisol could finally let go of computer science.

She had achieved some success, yes, but it could never compare to her true passion. She only hoped it wasn't too late to return to design. Fortunately, she had never completely abandoned it over the years.

First, she needed to wrap up her current projects and find a successor. Then, she could fully immerse herself in art and design again.

With renewed resolve, she took a quick shower, tidied the bed just enough, and left her unpacked luggage where it was. She wasn't staying long anyway. Exhaustion weighed on her as she finally lay down to sleep.

…

Around 10:00 pm, Lucian finally returned to the Muller Manor with Andre.

The boy sat in the car while clutching the gaming console Nevaeh had given him. He was reluctant to get out. He looked up at Lucian with pleading eyes. "Dad..."

If he brought the console inside, Marisol would definitely confiscate it again.

Lucian knew exactly what he was thinking. He tapped his fingers lightly against the steering wheel and replied coolly, "Leave it in the car. She won't go through my things."

"Yay!"

Reassured, Andre cheered and stuffed the console into the glove compartment. As he climbed out of the car, he couldn't resist asking, "Dad, can I visit Nevaeh again tomorrow?"

"No. We'll be busy."

"Aww!"

Disappointed, Andre quickly changed tactics. "Then can you drop me off at Grandma's? It's winter break, and if I stay home, Mom's just gonna nag me about everything.

"It's so annoying and no fun at all."

This time, Lucian agreed. Instantly cheered up, Andre bounded into the house.

Wanda, who had been waiting in the living room, hurried forward with ginger tea to ward off the chill and took their down jackets from them.

As Lucian handed over his coat, his brow furrowed slightly. "Where's Marisol?"

No matter how late he returned, she would always be waiting in the living room if she was home. She would often personally take care of hanging up his coat and tidying his clothes. Hadn't she called earlier saying she was off work? Why wasn't she here?

Wanda looked surprised. "Didn't Mrs. Muller tell you, sir? She's away on a business trip."

A business trip? Since when did that mediocre bank she worked for require business trips?

The thought flickered through Lucian's mind, but he dismissed it just as quickly. He had only asked out of habit—it didn't matter to him whether she was home or not. In fact, her absence was preferable.

Meanwhile, Andre visibly relaxed. His fox-like eyes—so much like his father's—gleamed with mischief as they darted around.

"Dad, can I bring the game console inside then?" he exclaimed excitedly.

With Marisol gone, he wouldn't have to hide out at Elizabeth's either. He could be the king of the house now, with no one to scold or restrict him.

Lucian gave a nonchalant nod, letting Andre do as he pleased.

He then headed to the bedroom, showered, and changed into soft silk pajamas with the collar left carelessly open. His damp hair fell in loose strands over his forehead, and his sharp, fox-like eyes were slightly hazy from the steam.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the nightstand.

He picked it up and glanced at the screen. It was a message from Nevaeh. As he typed a reply, his gaze caught something out of place, and his fingers stilled.

A space on the nightstand stood empty. The red-hatted robot on it was gone.