Chapter 4

He had a picky palate and a delicate stomach. No matter how upscale the restaurant, it was rare for him to find food that suited his taste. Only the meals I prepared could make him truly comfortable. To earn the two million dollars I received monthly as my "salary," I quickly got up to pack the lunch boxes. "Flick, I've got things to do. I'll call you later," I said.

"Wait, Eliza, you—" Flick tried to interject, but I hung up before she could finish.

Walking into the towering Haven Group office building, I could feel the stares of those around me. Their gazes were sharp, filled with curiosity and amusement, as if waiting for a spectacle. In the past, they used to call me "Mrs. Harrington" with flattering smiles. The moment I arrived, someone would rush forward to help carry my things, showering me with warm greetings.

Now, the employees looked me up and down, whispering among themselves, their muffled laughter occasionally breaking through. Fiona Lang's sudden promotion as James Harrington's new secretary had fueled endless gossip. With James bringing her home and rumors swirling about their affair, it wasn't surprising that the staff had shifted their loyalties. They now fawned over her, leaving me as nothing more than a relic of the past.

But I was here to deliver lunch. That was part of my job, too. Let them laugh all they wanted—I earned two hundred times what they did in a month.

James's office was empty when I walked in. His charming new secretary was nowhere to be seen. As usual, I carefully set up the lunch I'd prepared for him, arranging the plates and utensils with precision. Then, I gave him a quick update on my other "duties" at home.

"I visited your mother this morning," I began. "The doctor said she's been in good spirits lately. She might even enjoy some time in the sun."

James barely lifted his eyes, responding with a low "Hmm."

Whenever James was too busy, it fell to me to visit and care for his mother. She had been battling bone cancer for years, her condition fluctuating frequently. No matter the situation, I was always the first to arrive. With a team of top-tier doctors and caregivers at her side, there wasn't much for me to do except sit by her bed and chat with her.

When James picked up his teacup to take a sip, I finished tidying up the lunch setup and prepared to leave. He glanced briefly at my left hand, at the ring on my finger, though I didn't notice.

She still loves me, he thought silently after I left. The proof was in the wedding ring I continued to wear. His own ring had long been taken off, collecting dust in its box. To her, this marriage was something she couldn't bear to let go of. Surely, she cried for him in the dark of night, overwhelmed by longing. All her talk about staying for the money? Just an excuse. She couldn't bring herself to leave him. Her cooking was delicious, her love for him deep.

James leaned back and sighed. Eliza was a good woman. But he simply didn't want to continue anymore.

Back at home, I tossed the empty lunch boxes into the dishwasher and washed my hands. Out of habit, I stroked the large diamond ring on my finger. This ring was one of the most valuable pieces of my assets. I treasured it like nothing else, terrified of losing it. Only when it was securely on my finger, where I could admire it now and then, did I feel at ease.

When I checked my phone, I saw a missed call from Flick and a few anonymous text messages filled with insults. They were likely from James's admirers. A man as handsome and wealthy as James never lacked for admirers, even though he was married. During my seven years as Mrs. Harrington, I had received countless messages like these. I had long grown numb to them. James, of course, had no idea I was being harassed—I had never bothered to tell him.

In the early days, I had trusted that he wouldn't betray me. Now, I simply didn't care. I didn't even bother deleting the messages. They weren't worth my time.

As long as James wasn't away on business trips, I made sure to prepare three meals a day for him. It had become an unspoken arrangement. Even though he often attended dinner parties in the evening and rarely came home to eat, I always made a meal just in case. I didn't want him to come back and find there was nothing warm waiting for him.

After finishing dinner, I curled up on the couch in the living room. Officially, I was waiting for my husband to return home. In reality, I was engrossed in a video game.

At that same moment, James and Fiona were enjoying a candlelit dinner together. Fiona wore a fitted little black dress that accentuated her curves. Under the soft glow of the candles, she looked stunning, almost ethereal.

James rewarded her beauty with a luxury car key, which he presented with a broad smile.

Fiona accepted it with glee, playfully teasing him, "James, when are we getting married? I want to be with you openly, without any secrets. I dream of having a proper title, of truly being yours."

Whenever she brought up this topic, James would promise her that he would get Eliza to sign the divorce papers. He always assured her it was only a matter of time. But tonight, something was different.

Noticing his silence, Fiona asked, "James, what's on your mind?"

James finally spoke, his tone measured. "Fiona, I've been thinking. Eliza still loves me. She's been a good wife and a devoted daughter-in-law for seven years. Why can't I be magnanimous and give her another chance to keep loving me?"