Chapter 3

Although my mind was fixated on the alimony, it didn't stop me from calling out to the housekeeper. "Mary, prepare two more dishes for dinner."

When the lavish dinner was served, I took a piece of honey-glazed ham steak and placed it in my money tree's… no, Chris' plate. In a concerned tone, I asked, "Have you decided on which school you're going to?"

He lowered his head and hummed in acknowledgment, "Mmhmm".

"Which grade will you be in?"

"Junior year."

"Any problem keeping up with your schoolwork?"

His spoon stopped in midair.

"I'm doing fine."

I served him another spoonful of greens.

"It's getting cooler out. We have a thicker comforter in the wardrobe in the guest room."

Chris didn't reply, nor did he look up. All he did was focus on the food on his plate.

Shane didn't say anything either.

Like father, like son—they were both equally quiet.

After dinner, the dishes were cleared away, and I opened the refrigerator to look for fruit. I cut them up into even slices and arranged them neatly on a plate.

Footsteps stopped behind me.

"Aren't you going to ask me anything? Doesn't it bother you that he cheated on you?"

Chris' voice sounded raspy.

I cut an orange into eight wedges and arranged them on the white ceramic plate.

"That's between you two. I only have to go along with whatever Mr. Zimmer has decided."

"You really don't care? Not even a little?"

I turned off the tap and dried my hand on the hand towel, laughing cheerfully.

"Listen, kid. Your dad and I are in a contract marriage."

I hung the hand towel back on its hook and smiled meaningfully.

I continued, "It'd be considered a breach of contract if I cared too much."

Chris fell silent as he studied my expression.

As I was leaving the kitchen with the fruit platter, I spotted Shane standing at the kitchen entrance.

From that day on, Shane came home less often.

When Mary asked how many people she should cook for, I told her just two.

No one found it strange that the lady of the house was getting along with her husband's illegitimate son while he was away.

On Friday afternoon, Charles Turner, the lawyer I'd contacted, sent me a document.

"Mrs. Zimmer, this is the initial draft of the evidence list for the divorce proceedings. Please have a look."

I scrolled through it.

The seventh piece of evidence on the list stated, "The husband concealed the existence of a child outside the marriage, constituting serious marital misconduct."

"Aunt Wendy."

Upon hearing Chris' voice, I quietly closed the document.

He was standing by the balcony, gazing intently at me. "What were you looking at?"

I put my phone face down.

"Just work."

He didn't move.

"You're lying. After you married Shane, he's been paying for everything. Since when have you been working? Aunt Wendy, are you divorcing Shane because of me? You can't divorce him."

"Why not?" I asked.

Turning his back toward me, he said in a lowered voice, "Because…"

That brat! He'd left me hanging! How could he just walk off without explaining?

The next morning, Chris woke up early. He watched me when I sat on the couch, flipping through some documents.

When I got up to pour myself a glass of water, he followed me and stood in the kitchen doorway..

Then, he followed me back to the couch.

Finally, I closed my laptop.

"Chris, what's gotten into you?"

He didn't retort. Instead, he repeated what he'd said the night before. "You can't divorce Shane."

I stared at him. "Wasn't that the whole point? You wanted me to find out he cheated on me, and you wanted to destroy our marriage?"

His lips pressed into a thin line. "That's true, but…"

"Then why are you stopping me from getting the divorce?"

He lowered his eyes and fell silent.

I went to the study and closed the door, shutting him out.

Five minutes later, he slipped a piece of paper under the door. It was folded in half, torn out of his school notebook.

He'd pressed so hard while writing that the pen had torn through the paper in two places.