Chapter 2

Composing myself, I took the resignation letter I'd already drafted and headed straight to the company to handle my exit.

All the way, colleagues whispered and pointed.

"Isn't that Claire? How does she still have the nerve to show her face here?"

"Seriously. Who does she think she is? Last month, she dared to ask Julian for ten thousand dollars and he had security kick her out."

"With her salary, how many years would it take to earn ten thousand for Julian?"

"Ha, ignore that clown. Let's go…"

Hearing those whispers, I gave a self-deprecating smile.

Married for years, Julian had never announced our relationship. In fact, to avoid suspicion, he'd always kept me as a regular low-level employee.

For years, I'd worked diligently, even pushing myself to the point of hospitalization after a particularly brutal negotiation, just to secure major deals for the company.

I wanted to become exceptional, to make him acknowledge Lily and me.

But every promotion application I submitted was rejected, again and again.

Confused, I confronted him, seeking an explanation.

He'd just smile, cling to my arm, and sweet-talk me: "Claire, this is all part of my plan to mold you. It'll make you an even better wife and mother!"

"Besides, isn't it enough that I'm the only one earning? Do you think I can't provide for you and Lily, or are you trying to climb the corporate ladder and take over my power?"

I was speechless, believing he had his own reasons.

But the day Cassidy returned, he mobilized dozens of luxury cars to greet her at the airport, the celebratory fireworks deafening.

That very evening, Cassidy was parachuted into the company, straight into a VP position.

Only then did I truly understand: the difference between love and indifference was stark.

Given that, there was no point in continuing this ridiculous marriage.

I submitted my resignation.

Stepping out of the company, I expected to feel heavy-hearted. Instead, there was only lightness.

For years, I'd been like a bird with clipped wings, trapped in a cage, experiencing nothing but oppression.

Now, freedom stretched before me.

I went to Lily's grave. Before her small headstone, I carefully placed all her favorite toys.

I stayed with her until deep into the night, then dragged my exhausted body home.

To my surprise, when I opened the door, Julian, uncharacteristically, was waiting for me.

"Do you even know what time it is? I thought you'd decided to stay out all night."

On the sofa, Julian sat with furrowed brows, arms crossed, looking thoroughly displeased.

That expression was his signal for me to appease him.

But I just found it strange. In the past, if Cassidy so much as got a tiny scratch on her finger, he'd be by her side, staying up all night. Yet today, Cassidy had landed in the hospital, and he wasn't with her?

It wasn't my concern, and I couldn't care less. I asked flatly:

"Is there something you want?"

My cold tone made Julian's face stiffen.

Before, no matter what happened, I always greeted him with a smile. But since he returned from his trip, I seemed to have transformed. I didn't argue or fuss with him anymore. Even the warmth in my eyes when I looked at him was gone.

This sparked a flicker of unease in him. He quickly said:

"You're still mad about me going out with Cassidy, aren't you? I told you, it was just to clear my head."

"Didn't Lily always say she wanted to go to the beach? Fine, once I'm less busy, I'll take you and Lily. Is that good enough?"

His attempt at reconciliation sounded more like a handout to me now.

Lily and I were like two pets to him—amused when he was in a good mood, kicked aside when he wasn't.

Julian suddenly remembered something and looked at me, puzzled.

"Hmm? Where's Lily? I haven't seen her since I got back."

"Did you send her to your mom's house?"

I stared at him in disbelief. He'd been back for two days, and he was just now asking about our daughter?

He didn't care about Lily at all. He didn't care about this family.

Before I could speak, Cassidy walked out of the bathroom, wearing my bathrobe.