Chapter 3

03

The day Bianca moved in, the sky was as gloomy as my heart.

I was watering the bougainvillea on the balcony. I'd raised those flowers for over a decade, watching them bloom and fade, just like my life with Waylon.

She walked in wearing a Chanel suit and four-inch heels. Her perfume was so thick it was suffocating. She walked straight up to me and looked down her nose. "Pearl, we need to talk."

Jaxson's fiancée was with her. She was a young girl in a pink dress, looking naive but acting entitled. She sat on my sofa and started taking selfies, using my antique vase as a backdrop. That vase was an heirloom from my grandmother.

"Talk about what?" I set the watering can down. A drop of water hit the floor and blurred into a small stain. "Talk about how you're taking over my home?"

Bianca pulled a file from her bag and pushed it toward me with a smug grin. "This is a divorce settlement. You leave with nothing, and we'll pretend these forty years never happened."

The agreement stated I would voluntarily give up all marital assets―the houses, the savings, and the company shares.

Waylon's signature was already there. That familiar handwriting felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

"Does Waylon know about this?" I picked up the papers, my grip wrinkling the edges.

"Of course he does," Bianca gloated. "He said his biggest regret is what he put us through."

Waylon emerged from the bedroom then, wearing his robe, his hair a mess. He saw the papers in my hand and looked away. "Pearl, I can explain..."

"Explain that you planned to dump me all along?" I threw the papers in his face. They were light, but they felt like they hit with the weight of a mountain. "Or explain if you felt even a shred of guilt while you were secretly draining our accounts?"

Jaxson suddenly stood up and pointed at me. "Listen, you old hag, don't push your luck! My dad wants to give us this stuff. You have no right to say no!"

"I have every right as his legal wife," I said, staring him down. "And because this house was built on the sweat and tears I shed when we were selling trinkets on a street corner!"

Back then, we worked under the scorching sun and the freezing wind. We couldn't even afford a hot meal.

To save money, I walked miles to pick up inventory until my feet were covered in thick calluses. Every corner of this house belongs to me. Who the hell do they think they are?