Chapter 2

James Harrington had been openly flaunting his relationship with Fiona Lang for a while now. His friends already referred to Fiona as "Mrs. Harrington." They all assumed I, the legal wife, was clueless about the affair.

In reality, I had known long before any of them, but I chose to act as if nothing had happened.

That afternoon, I went grocery shopping as usual and drove back to Harbor View Estate. Just as I was pulling into the driveway, Evelyn Thorne, my middle-aged neighbor, stopped me. Her face was twisted in hesitation, her voice low and concerned. "Eliza, I just saw James bring a woman home. You might...not want to go back tonight."

She offered to let me stay at her place for the night. "What he's doing is cruel, but no matter what, you two should talk it over calmly as husband and wife."

Evelyn must have thought I had no idea about James's infidelity, imagining I'd fly into a rage, lash out, or even collapse from shock upon seeing something unbearable. Maybe she thought I'd end up needing an ambulance.

I smiled at her calmly, thanked her for the warning, and walked back to the house. Her stunned expression lingered as I strode away.

As expected, I found Fiona Lang in the living room again. She and James were sitting on the couch, laughing and flirting like teenagers. Ignoring them, I walked into the kitchen, put on my apron, and started preparing dinner. It was the same routine I'd followed for the past seven years. I was paid $200,000 a month for running the household. Cooking was part of my job.

Once dinner was ready, I called out to James in my usual tone. "Mr. Harrington, you two must be hungry after all that excitement. The porridge is ready—care to have some while it's hot?"

James's face darkened at my words, but he unconsciously let go of Fiona's hand and sat down at the dining table. He picked up a spoon and tasted the porridge. "Fiona, come try Eliza's porridge," he said after a moment.

Fiona rose from the couch, sashaying into the kitchen to serve herself a bowl. She returned to the table, her eyes brimming with adoration as she gazed at James. "James, if you love porridge so much, I'll make it for you from now on."

They sat there, practically performing their affection for each other in front of me. I pretended not to notice, calmly eating my dinner across from them.

Fiona and I were about the same height, but the contrast between us couldn't have been more stark. She was dressed to the nines, her makeup flawless, her heels sky-high. In contrast, I wore no makeup, my hair tied back simply, and I had an apron on. I looked more like the live-in maid than the lady of the house. Fiona smelled of expensive perfume, while I carried the faint scent of kitchen grease. James's gaze flicked toward me, filled with disdain.

When they finished eating, they lingered in the living room, showing no intention of leaving. I hesitated before asking, "Are you two staying the night?"

James remained silent, but Fiona smiled sweetly. "I hope that won't be a problem."

I thought about it. James and I had been sleeping in separate rooms for some time now. There wasn't really any issue. However, his room only had one bed and one pillow. If Fiona was staying, I'd need to set it up properly for them.

"Wait here. I'll go make the bed," I said. I quickly gathered some linens and brought them to James's room. As I was carefully spreading the comforter, I suddenly heard his voice behind me.

"Eliza!" His sharp tone made me flinch. I turned to find James standing in the doorway, rubbing his temples in frustration, his glasses now in his hand.

"Eliza, haven't you had enough of this?" he snapped, leaning against the door frame.

I looked down at the bed, then back up at him, confused. "What did I do wrong?" I asked. After a moment's thought, I adjusted the air conditioning to a more comfortable level. "Is this better?" I asked.

He shoved me out of the room and slammed the door shut. The sound echoed through the house.

What was his problem?

Our rooms were on opposite ends of the estate, and the house was well-insulated. Even if they made a racket, I wouldn't hear a thing. Later that night, Fiona knocked on my bedroom door. She was wearing my silk bathrobe, her neck marked with fresh love bites. Her voice was sickly sweet.

"Eliza, James doesn't have room for you in his heart anymore. He loves me. We're truly in love." She leaned against the doorframe, her tone turning sharper. "Stop clinging to him. You're just dragging him down. Because of you, he's miserable every single day. Do him a favor—agree to the divorce and let him go."

I waited quietly until she finished her speech. Then I smiled faintly and asked, "Do you know how I go grocery shopping every day?"

Fiona frowned, confused. "What?"

"In a Rolls-Royce," I replied.