Chapter 4

Vincent hired a new chef, a middle-aged woman who was especially polite to me.

"Mrs. Hayes, what would you like to eat?" she asked.

I was taken aback. "I... I'm not Mrs. Hayes."

"She likes to pretend to be the nanny now," Willow said with a smile. "Just call her Miss Sophia."

The chef looked confused but nodded.

Ethan had been avoiding me these past few days.

Once I tried to hand him a toy, and he threw it on the floor.

"I don't want you to touch it!" he shouted.

Mr. Vincent watched from the side, sneered, and said nothing.

Today no one was home, so I thought I'd clean the study.

I pushed open the door. The bookshelves inside were full of books and photos.

I took a cloth and started dusting.

Halfway through, I saw a photo.

It was a picture of Willow and Vincent together, both standing by the ocean, smiling happily.

I frowned and kept looking.

There were at least seven or eight photos like this on the bookshelf.

In contrast, there was only one photo of Vincent and Sophia, tucked away in a corner.

I thought to myself, these two definitely have something going on. How did the lady of the house tolerate this?

I was already silently rejecting the idea that I was Sophia. I wasn't that much of a lovesick fool.

While organizing the desk, I saw a notebook in the drawer.

Curious, I took it out and opened it.

The first page had just one line: "Why hasn't he come home yet..."

Flipping through, it was all this kind of rambling.

"It's 3 AM, I've been waiting in the living room all night."

"Willow came again today. She said she and Vincent are just friends, but why is she living in my house?"

"Ethan said he likes Auntie Willow better. My heart is broken."

Looking at these words, I thought—tormenting yourself like this for a man, why bother?

Might as well be a nanny—at least there's a salary.

I kept flipping.

"We fought again today. He said I was being unreasonable."

"I just wanted an explanation. Does that count as being unreasonable?"

"Ethan defended Willow today and said I'm a bad mommy."

"I'm so tired..."

The handwriting got messier and messier. Some places had tear stains.

I flipped to the last page. There was only one sentence: "I want a divorce."

Now that's more like it! This kind of person deserves a divorce!

I casually put the diary away. This crybaby lovesick fool definitely isn't me.

At dinner that night, Ethan kept staring at me.

His eyes were red, like he'd been crying.

"Mommy..." he suddenly called out quietly.

I looked up at him.

"Do... do you really not remember me?" he asked, his voice trembling.

I didn't know how to answer.

Mr. Vincent put down his fork and looked at me, a hint of expectation in his eyes.

I opened my mouth and finally nodded.

Ethan cried.

Willow quickly comforted him. "Ethan, sweetie, don't cry..."

I also said, "Ethan, don't you like Auntie Willow the most? Having her here is enough..."

Ethan froze, then ran upstairs crying.

Mr. Vincent stood up and looked at me coldly.

"Have you acted enough?" he said. "Even lying to your own son?"

Then he went upstairs too.

Only Willow and I were left at the dining table.

She sighed. "Sophia, why do this?"

I didn't say anything.

She stood up, walked over to me, and said softly, "You know what? Vincent actually cares about you a lot."

"It's just that what you've done these years has really disappointed him."

She patted my shoulder and went upstairs.

I was a bit helpless. "What's there to act about? He cares about me, but I don't care about him."