[You know, I kept getting messages from him while I was in Paris. He begged me to come back! He said that if I returned, everything in the Walquists would be mine!]
[You’ve seen what was left in the trash can of the villa, right? Seriously, Grady is just as impressive in bed as ever!]
Zeth sent message after message, but Marcella didn’t check any of them.
It wasn’t until her peripheral vision caught the last notification that her hands, mid-way through packing, froze in the air.
For a moment, she didn’t know what to do.
[Do you know why he named your son Seth? You don’t seriously think it means chosen for a purpose, do you? I mean, that’s just hilarious!]
[Seth, Seth—it’s actually a masculine variation of my name! Grady’s actually been saying “I love you, Zeth!” all this time!]
[Grady said that once you gave birth to the child, he would have repaid you. After that, well, he wouldn’t owe you anything for the rest of his life!]
Zeth was right. That was exactly what Grady had told Marcella back then.
So when he shed those tears—was it because he was worried about her, or because he was finally free to go back to Zeth without any hesitation?
Marcella knew Zeth was trying to provoke her on purpose.
But when Marcella read those messages, she still couldn’t stop the tears from falling.
She didn’t want to dwell on it any longer. Taking a deep breath, she packed everything in the room that belonged to her.
From books to pillows—seven years of her life, yet everything had fit into just four suitcases.
When she stepped out, dragging her luggage and waiting for the movers, Seth stood by the door.
His expression was filled with irritation.
“Mom, what are you throwing a fit about this time? Even if you’re divorcing Dad, can’t you at least make me dinner first? Seriously, Mom! Ugh! If only Aunt Zeth were here!”
Marcella turned back and shot him a cold look.
Whatever else Seth had been about to say got stuck in his throat.
When she returned, he let out a sarcastic laugh.
“I thought you weren’t coming back. Guess you couldn’t bring yourself to leave, huh?”
He had this smug look on his face as his eyes fixed on her phone—as if he was waiting for something.
Sure enough, the next second, a message from Grady popped up.
But the first thing he said wasn’t to ask her where she was.
It was to question why she had blocked him.
She didn’t reply.
Another message immediately followed.
[If you can’t even take care of our son properly, then I think I need to reconsider our relationship.]
‘So what? Is he saying he’s going to divorce me? Welp, our marriage has already been annulled by the authorities before he even knew it.’
Marcella smirked at the thought.
Beside her, Seth chuckled as he walked over with the snacks Zeth had bought him.
“Mom, why are you still standing around? Go make dinner already! It’s not like your hands are delicate like Aunt Zeth’s, needing to play the piano or something!”
He looked at her hands with clear disdain.
Just as he lifted his head—a slap landed hard across his face.
“My hands can cook, and they can hit people too. I think I’ve been way too lenient with you, my dear.”
With that slap, whatever mother-son bond they had was severed completely.
Seth stared in shock, his cheek burning from the sting.
He immediately grabbed his phone, ready to call his father and his grandmother to complain.
But Marcella snatched his device and smashed it into pieces.
“What’s the rush? Your dad will be back tomorrow. And the woman you adore so much—Zeth—will be coming with him.”
With that, she walked straight to her room, not even sparing a glance at the boy’s pale face.
