Chapter 3

The tie I'd carefully picked out for Cameron was still sitting unopened at the edge of the table.

Beside it was an elegant gift box containing a complete set of heavy solid-gold jewelry and a bank card. For a moment, I thought he had finally come to his senses and remembered that he owed me a gift.

But the moment I opened the card inside, I couldn't help laughing bitterly.

[Congratulations to Poppy Campbell on completing her 100 days with the company. Keep up the great work, and here's to many more.]

Cameron's handwriting had always been terribly messy.

I'd been surprised when he'd suddenly announced a while ago that he wanted to practice. I'd foolishly thought that, after all these years of nagging him about it, he'd finally taken my advice.

When I opened the drawer and saw the thick stack of handwriting practice sheets inside, I realized just how ridiculous I'd been.

The same words had been written over and over across page after page. Every single one of them seemed to be mocking me for believing that those efforts had anything to do with me.

I'd treasured those earrings for ten years without ever daring to wear them, keeping them sealed inside a protective pouch.

Now, when I finally took them out, I discovered that the gold had faded away, revealing the dark, tarnished metal underneath.

A sharp pain went through my chest, and I let out a bitter laugh. The gift I'd cherished for years turned out to be a fake.

I threw them straight into the trash, then picked up the unopened tie and tossed that in as well. By the time I finished cleaning everything up, it was already midnight.

Assuming Cameron wouldn't be coming home tonight either, I washed up and went to sleep in the guest room. I never expected him to come back in the wee hours and wake me.

His voice echoed through the house. "Stephanie! Where are you?"

In the past, no matter how late he came home, I'd always stay up waiting for him, make sure he had something to eat, and take care of whatever he needed before finally going to bed.

This time, I shot out of bed and locked the door before he could reach the room.

This was rare! Whenever Cameron went to take care of Poppy, he usually stayed at her place all night, so why had he come home at three in the morning?

"Stephanie, if you're awake, why aren't you answering me?" he demanded.

Every time Poppy had gotten sick in the past, Cameron would stay up all night taking care of her.

At first, I'd been worried that something had happened to him. When I couldn't reach him by phone, I'd called the police, only to discover that he was fine and had been at Poppy's apartment the entire time.

I'd been frantic with worry while he'd lectured me for wasting police resources. Back then, I had been too annoying because I worried about him too much.

Now, apparently, I was annoying because I wouldn't answer him. What a joke!

I rolled over, pulled the blanket higher, and decided I couldn't care less. Yet Cameron kept pounding on the door, and after a while, the irritation in his voice became impossible to miss.

"I've been taking care of Poppy all day, and I'm exhausted," he shouted. "Stop throwing a tantrum and come make me something to eat. Bring me some hot water while you're at it. My feet are killing me. Come give me a massage."

I couldn't even be bothered to respond. Instead, I pulled the blanket over my head, rolled onto my side, and fell asleep again.

…

The next morning, Cameron hadn't gone back to check on Poppy.

To my surprise, he was standing in the kitchen preparing breakfast.

"You're up. Come have some oatmeal. It will help settle your stomach," he said, though his expression remained somewhat stiff and unpleasant.

I knew that he was expecting me to accept it and make peace with him.

"Eat quickly. I still need to take it to Poppy," he added, smugly raising an eyebrow. "She's not as petty as you are. She even told me not to argue with you, and she doesn't need you to apologize. You should be grateful."

I quietly put down my spoon.

So, this was breakfast he had prepared for her. I was merely getting a portion because I happened to be there.

That made sense, though. A man as cold as him would never go out of his way to make breakfast just to win me over.

But by then, I couldn't even bring myself to argue with him. I simply took the divorce agreement I had prepared and placed it in front of him.

"Before I leave, sign it," I said.

But he pushed it back without even looking.