For seven years, Marcella and Grady treated each other with nothing but respect.
She always left a light on for him when he came home late, and when she was sick, he stayed by her bedside.
He even shed tears in front of her for the first time when their son Seth was born.
Marcella had thought that maybe, just maybe, Grady had feelings for her too.
But Zeth’s arrival finally made Marcella realize—it had all been a fantasy.
Grady’s heart had always belonged to Zeth.
With a ding, Marcella’s phone vibrated with a new message, snapping her out of her thoughts.
Even though she had mentally prepared herself, her heart still clenched when she saw the organization’s exact instructions.
[Mrs. Walquist, first of all, we appreciate your dedication. For security reasons, we will be relocating you to an uninhabited area in the country. Your identity will be erased—Marcella Westerman-Walquist will cease to exist in this world. Please be informed, too, that you will not be allowed to leave for the next 10 years.]
[Please consider this carefully before confirming.]
She clenched her fists, recalling the conversation she overheard outside the villa earlier that night.
Then, exhaling slowly, she let it go.
[I confirm.]
By the time she returned home, it was already early morning.
But the moment she opened the door, she noticed something—Zeth’s shoes were still at the entrance.
‘She… stayed the night? Which room did she sleep in?’
Just as the thought crossed Marcella’s mind, Grady stepped out of the master bedroom.
The second he saw her standing at the door, his eyes flickered toward the bedroom—his expression tense and unnatural.
Before she could even question him, he was already throwing accusations her way.
“Where were you last night? Did you forget it was Seth’s birthday? Seriously, Marcella, I don’t know what kind of mother you think you are!”
His brows furrowed tightly as if surprised his wife wasn’t immediately apologizing.
After all, in the past, no matter what he said—right or wrong—she was always the first to say sorry.
But now—now that she had finally seen things for what they were—his words only filled her with bitter amusement.
Without a word, she moved to push past him, heading straight for the bedroom—she had to see it with her own eyes.
But the moment her fingers touched the doorknob, Grady lunged forward and yanked her back, shoving her away.
With a bang, her back slammed against the edge of the table, a sharp pain shooting through her spine.
The force was enough to leave her struggling to straighten up.
Grady hadn’t expected her to lose her balance. He instinctively reached out to steady her, but she jerked away.
“Tch! This is why I keep telling you—you need to work out more. I barely pushed—”
“—Dee, I’m done taking a shower!”
Before he could finish speaking, the bedroom door swung open from the inside.
A sweet and delicate voice reached Marcella’s ears.
‘Zeth’s!’
“What? What exactly are you trying to hide from me?”
Marcella pointed a trembling finger at Zeth’s face.
Even though she had already decided to let go of her husband, Marcella still couldn’t stop the ache in her chest.
How could Grady let Zeth wear her nightgown?
How could he let her sleep on their bed?
“O-Oh. Marcella, you’re getting the wrong idea. I just borrowed the master bathroom. Guys, please don’t fight because of me. I’ll leave right away. I’m sorry. I—”
Before she could finish, Grady cut her off sharply. “What are you apologizing for? There’s nothing for you to be sorry about. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
He turned to Marcella, his gaze full of reproach and frustration.
Over his shoulder, Marcella saw Zeth’s tearful eyes, her lips quivering as if she were on the verge of breaking down.
A fragile and pitiful sight—painting Marcella as the villain.
But she had seen it already.
Just moments ago, when Zeth hid behind Grady, Marcella had caught that fleeting look in her husband’s ex’s eyes—smug and taunting.
