The next moment, a deliberately suppressed gasp came from beside me.
“Ah!”
The mistress slightly furrowed her brows, instinctively holding her waist, her expression fragile and innocent.
Almost simultaneously, he had already turned around.
His movements were swift, without the slightest hesitation. One arm steadied her shoulder, and his other hand gently rested on her hand, asking in a low voice, “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”
The two of them stood very close.
So close that anyone who looked at them would think they were a family.
I stood there, like an intruder, a stranger who had wandered in.
If he had paid a little more attention, even just glanced at the signs around, he would have realized that the place we met was the gynecology clinic.
But he didn’t.
His attention was entirely on her.
On her slightly pale face, on her soft voice as she responded, and on the way she leaned into him.
And I, I was nothing more than the ignored background.
I suddenly felt a bit ironic.
I was standing here, I had said nothing, and I was the one who was his wife.
But in this moment, there was no place for me in his world.
When I entered the door, the smell hit me immediately.
The lights were on in the living room.
I stood in the entrance, and at a glance, I saw Chase holding a bowl of soup, patiently feeding Emma spoon by spoon.
Felix sat beside them, behaving unusually well.
“Auntie, you’re so gentle. Can you be my mom?”
In that instant, it felt like I had been shoved into an ice cellar.
How could these words come from my own son?
Emma smiled gently and gracefully, reaching out to rub Felix's hair. “Of course, as long as your dad agrees.”
My heart jerked painfully.
I walked into the living room with a blank expression.
“It’s so late. Where have you been?”
Chase looked up, and seeing my pale face, he was clearly taken aback. His tone softened involuntarily. “What happened to your forehead?”
I didn’t answer.
I had just come from the hospital and stumbled at the door. What was the point of saying anything?
Emma immediately raised her voice in a playful tone, “You’re back, Joyce! Just in time, I brought you some gifts. Come look.”
Chase cleared his throat, his expression a bit awkward. “Joyce, Shiyu is pregnant and needs to rest. For now, she’ll stay here. You should be more mindful. She’s lactose intolerant, can’t eat cold food, needs to sleep until 10 AM for her beauty rest, and the fruits need to be juiced…”
Each word felt like a knife, stabbing deeper into my heart, one after another.
I couldn’t believe it and let out a cold laugh. “What, you want me to take care of her?”
“Be good, Joyce. Everything in the past is behind us, don’t dwell on it,” he paused for a moment, then spoke with casual certainty, “You’ve worked as a maid in the Chase family, so I trust you to handle these things.”
He didn’t finish the sentence.
Felix, standing beside us, innocently added, “Yeah, mom, I like Aunt Lu too.”
I lowered my head and saw on the side of the dining table a list of 267 “care instructions for the young lady.”
On the floor were a few luxury shopping bags haphazardly discarded. A Chanel handbag with worn-out corners, an Hermes keychain from a gift package, and Dior high heels that were clearly used.
The so-called “gifts” were nothing but a pile of discarded junk she had thrown away.
Suddenly, I remembered many years ago.
Chase’s good friend had once called me “the maid who serves,” and he immediately turned hostile, halting a billion-dollar project that night.
He said, “Joyce is my wife. Whoever dares to belittle her is slapping me, Chase, in the face.”
But now, he had slapped his own face.
He had made me serve the enemy as a personal maid.
It turned out that deep love and vows could be so easily shattered.
