The second time Yves mentioned Melissa before me was when I noticed a coffee stain on his favorite luxury suit. I asked him what happened.
He replied, "It was Melissa. She's so clumsy in everything she does. If it weren't for the fact that you arranged for her hire, I would've fired her already."
The third time was when I found a cup of bubble tea in his car. Yves never drank bubble tea, let alone a cup of very sweet bubble tea.
A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips as he said, "Melissa bought it. After getting her paycheck, she treated everyone on the 52nd floor to a drink, saying it was her way of thanking us for looking out for her. It's my first time trying bubble tea, and it actually tastes pretty good."
A cup of bubble tea cost almost 15 dollars, and there were more than a hundred employees in the office.
It seemed that Yves was very generous with Melissa's salary. Even after paying for her mother's hospital bills, her father's chemotherapy, her brother's tuition fees, and her grandmother's living expenses, she still had enough left to treat that many people to bubble tea.
After that, Yves couldn't hide the smile in his eyes whenever he talked about her.
It was only when I mentioned wanting to return to work in the office that I saw him panic for the first time.
"Cyn, your main duty right now is to take care of your health and give birth to the Golding family's grandson," he said.
We had been married for three years, yet we still did not have a child. My mother-in-law had long been displeased by this.
If it weren't for my family name, she would have already said that I had "an unwelcoming home".
…
I ended up barely sleeping that night.
When I got up, the maids had already prepared breakfast.
Yves came downstairs just as I finished eating. He rubbed his temples and addressed me like he would a maid, "Cynthia, grits."
Previously, whenever he drank too much, I would cook shrimp and grits for him the morning after. I had considered having the maids do it, but he once said that only the grits I made cured his hangover the best.
"Ms. Willow, Mr. Golding wants grits," I called out toward the kitchen.
"Okay, Mrs. Golding. I'll make some right away."
Yves' expression darkened, and he looked reproachfully at me. Displeased, he barked, "Forget it! Cynthia, I'll see how long you will keep this up!"
He grabbed his freshly ironed suit jacket from a maid and stormed off to the car.
My mother-in-law, Emma Bennett, stood on the stairs watching. She was probably aware that we had fought the night before.
"Thia, I'm not blaming you, but you were married into the Golding family to raise children and look after your husband.
"You don't even have a child yet, and now you can't even take care of Yves?"
I raised an eyebrow at that. "What if he's the one who can't have children? Why don't you ask Yves if the problem lies with him?
"Plus, with so many maids in this house, why must I care for him? He doesn't even pay me a salary."
Given how I always appeared docile, Emma clearly hadn't expected me to talk back. Her outstretched finger trembled as she uttered, "You're truly a lady from a lesser family… You have no manners at all!"
"Oh? A former dancer such as yourself really sees herself as some upper-class lady now, huh?" I retorted. "And don't forget. If I—from a 'lesser family'—hadn't married into yours, Golding Corp wouldn't even be in this industry today."
I didn't bother listening to what she said after that.
Mom was right. Emma was a mistress with a terrible character. And him, the son of a mistress? His character was hardly any better.
It was true. Yves had inherited his father's adultery habits and his mother's shamelessness.
When Melissa's image flashed in my mind, I realized that she even looked somewhat similar to Emma. It seemed like mistresses all had a certain look in common.
…
After breakfast, I went to the office. At the same time, I sent a message to that person on my phone. "I'll cooperate."
The reply from them came quickly. "Okay!"
The receptionist at the front desk was a newcomer, so she didn't recognize me. She stepped forward and blocked my way.
I slowly adjusted my gold-rimmed glasses and smiled at her. "Where's Jeanie?"
