"Thank you, Miss Finch."
Wilfred let out a long breath, a confident smile returning to his face. "I promise, if I have time, I'll go visit Professor Finch."
"Alright. I'll let my grandmother know so she can make your favorite—sweet and sour ribs."
Margery smiled.
For a moment, Wilfred found himself staring, caught off guard by that smile. When he snapped out of it, he quickly looked away.
"Miss Finch, I'm heading to Family Court now. If everything goes smoothly, the divorce should be finalized today, so I probably won't need to trouble you with the lawsuit after all. But if something unexpected comes up, I'll give you a call."
"Okay, no problem. I'll get going then. See you around."
Sliding her sunglasses on and tossing her long golden hair, Margery returned to her sports car.
A smile slowly curved at the corner of her lips.
Ever since she'd heard from friends that Wilfred and Hildegarde were getting divorced, Margery had been quietly keeping tabs on him.
Seeing the man she'd secretly admired since childhood finally pulling himself together again—
It made her genuinely happy.
Wilfred, I can't wait to see you become that genius again. That boy who used to tug on my ponytail... My boy, put on your armor and rise again!
In the end, Hildegarde never showed up at Family Court.
Wilfred waited there all afternoon for nothing.
When pickup time at the preschool approached, he had no choice but to drive over and get Penelope.
"Daddy, Daddy, guess what?"
"Uncle Patrick got beat up!"
"A bunch of moms held him down and hit him!"
The moment she got in the car, Penelope launched into an animated retelling of the afternoon's events.
It turned out that after Patrick learned the honey bread Hilary brought had become a huge hit among the preschoolers, he rushed over with several more bags. The result?
The parents discovered he was behind the tainted treats and immediately tore into him.
They demanded compensation.
Patrick, unaccustomed to such treatment, started arguing back.
The argument escalated, and several parents gave him a thorough beating.
"Were you and Hilary okay?"
Wilfred didn't care what shape Patrick was in. Frankly, after he'd called Marjorie, he'd expected something like this.
"We're fine. I protected Hilary. I didn't let her get hurt."
Penelope said it matter-of-factly.
"Good girl."
He reached over and ruffled her hair, then drove her to get fried chicken.
Kids loved fried food—though of course, not too much of it.
After their meal, Wilfred took Penelope back to the Pruitt villa.
He still had some belongings there.
The drive was quiet.
Twenty minutes later, the car pulled into the parking spot in front of the villa's courtyard.
"Mr. Dickerson is back."
Marjorie, who was playing in the yard with Hilary, spotted him immediately.
Looking at Marjorie's exhausted face and his older daughter deliberately turning away, refusing to acknowledge him, Wilfred simply smiled. "You've had a rough time, Marjorie."
"Oh, Mr. Dickerson, it's so good you're back. These past few days without you, I've felt completely lost."
Marjorie sighed with relief.
Wilfred didn't dwell on her grievances. Taking Penelope's hand, he walked into the villa.
"Ow, Hildegarde, easy! That hurts... Those crazy women—if they hadn't been women, I wouldn't have held back. I wouldn't be in this state. Ow, ow..."
Before he even reached the door, Patrick's pitiful wailing echoed from inside.
Penelope covered her mouth, stifling a giggle.
Wilfred gave her a light tap on the head, then stepped inside.
In the living room, Patrick sat on the sofa while Hildegarde stood before him, dabbing iodine onto his wounds with a cotton swab.
When Patrick saw Wilfred, a flash of resentment crossed his eyes. Then he immediately leaned closer to Hildegarde, putting on a show of intimacy.
"Oh, Wilfred, you're back! I knew it—you couldn't stay away from our Hildegarde. Good to have you home. But hey, don't get the wrong idea. I got a little banged up, so she's just disinfecting my cuts. There's nothing going on between us, okay?"
Wilfred remained unmoved by Patrick's performance.
When Hildegarde saw Wilfred walk in with their daughter, a mocking smile tugged at her lips.
She lifted her chin, a victor's smugness flickering across her face.
She'd known all along—Wilfred couldn't leave her.
Throw a fit, make a little scene, and he'd come crawling back.
"Since you're here, don't just stand there. Go to your room and get Patrick a fresh set of clothes. His are ruined."
Wilfred ignored her. Holding Penelope's hand, he headed upstairs.
"What kind of attitude is that, Wilfred?"
"Who do you think you're giving that sour face to?"
Hildegarde's temper flared.
"Oh, Hildegarde, don't blame him. He's probably just jealous seeing me with you. Should I leave?"
Patrick put on a wounded expression.
That only made Hildegarde angrier.
"Forget him. We haven't done anything wrong. If he wants to sulk, let him!"
"A man this petty—I really regret marrying someone like him!"
A gleam flickered in Patrick's eyes.
An almost imperceptible smile curled at the corner of his mouth.
Wilfred returned to the bedroom and quickly packed his things.
There wasn't much, really.
A few changes of clothes, some materials he'd collected over the years on mathematics and racing, and Penelope's daily necessities.
All of it barely filled one suitcase.
When he came downstairs with the luggage, holding Penelope's hand, Hildegarde's eyes flashed with fury the moment she saw them.
She forgot all about treating Patrick's wounds.
"What is this supposed to mean, Wilfred?"
"Yeah, what's going on here?" Patrick chimed in. "Couples fight, but they make up in the same bed. Why are you packing like you're moving out?"
"It doesn't mean anything."
Wilfred looked at Hildegarde's face, twisted slightly with anger.
Once, he had loved that face desperately.
Loved her to the bone.
But now, he felt nothing.
"Don't misunderstand. Everything in here is my personal property. I haven't touched a single thing that belongs to the Pruitts or anything you've bought me over the years."
"And me! This Barbie doll—Daddy saved up to buy it for me."
Penelope poked her little head out, her voice soft but firm.
Hildegarde was livid.
"Are you serious about this, Wilfred?"
"Just because I'm close with Patrick, you're jealous, is that it? You're a man—can't you be a little less petty? Acting like this only makes me look down on you even more!"
Wilfred's gaze drifted to their wrists.
A luxury couple's watch set.
