I stared at their affectionate silhouettes, a tightness growing in my chest.
The child I raised with all my efforts turned a blind eye to my efforts but was so close to a man Fiona brought home, a man who used to be a male escort. Just because he vaguely resembles Jayden, he's willing to let him be his "dad."
At this hour, it was impossible to hail a cab and the rain was coming down harder. I could only huddle like a stray dog in the corner by the gate, hoping to shield myself from some of the downpours.
Just when I thought I'd be stuck here all night, the front gate creaked open. The butler came out holding an umbrella.
"Sir, Mrs. Claire asked me to bring you inside."
My head was already numb from the cold. It took me a while to nod before I numbly walked into the living room.
The moment I looked up, I saw Weston sitting in Mason's arms, watching TV while Fiona sat next to them and peeled fruit for them. The scene was so warm that it seemed like a family.
I ignored it and turned to go upstairs, but was stopped by Fiona.
"You know our son has a sensitive stomach and can only eat the food you make. In the future, you're not allowed to be out for more than an hour."
I pulled the corners of my lips and reminded her kindly, after remembering that I was about to leave.
"Then you'd better find him a nutritionist soon. If not, have Mr. Skyler learns it. I've got a detailed meal plan. After all, we're getting divorced soon."
There was a loud clatter as Fiona slammed the fruit knife onto the plate, the scraping sound jarring.
She then stood up and walked towards me, grabbing my hand and pulling me towards the second floor.
"Zion, have I been too easy on you lately? How dare you bring up divorce at any time? Do you think I really wouldn't divorce you?"
Of course, she dared to divorce me. She had no feelings for me. The only reason she hadn't was to give Weston a complete family.
I suppressed my emotions and asked him calmly.
"Did Weston tell you that? That he needs me. Why don't you ask him yourself and see if he wants us to divorce?"
As soon as I finished speaking, Weston's disdainful voice drifted over.
"Mommy, I've wanted you to divorce him for a long time. I don't like him. I like Uncle Mason."
Mason, who had followed Weston over, quickly covered Weston's mouth.
"Kids shouldn't say things like that. You'll hurt your daddy's feelings."
That's what he said, but the delight in his eyes couldn't be concealed.
"He's not my daddy! I don't want a murderer to be my daddy!" Weston glared at me resentfully.
I shrugged at Fiona, saying helplessly, "See? He doesn't need me. Can we get a divorce now?"
Fiona frowned and said to Mason.
"Mason, take Weston downstairs first."
A hint of disappointment flashed in Mason's eyes before she turned and led Weston downstairs.
I spoke to Fiona once more while seeing her retreating figure, "Since you and Weston both like Mr. Skyler, why don't you just let him be your husband? I don't want to be it anymore."
"You're that eager to push me to someone else, huh?" she hissed through clenched teeth.
I didn't understand what she meant. She's clearly in love with Jayden. Even though he's been gone for five years, she's never moved on. Towards me, it was just a release of physical needs.
Now that she had finally found someone who looked so much like Jayden, shouldn't she be happy? Why would she ask such a question?
Not hearing a satisfactory answer, Fiona's face darkened. She immediately called Mason back. Then, as if throwing a tantrum, she told me.
"Since you want us to be together so badly, then I'll grant your wish."
Then she dragged Mason into the bedroom.
A few moments later, the sounds of their pleasure seeped through the door.
My heart remained still. After all, I had only come to the Claires to repay a debt of gratitude. As for anything else, I didn't dare to hope, nor had I ever let my heart stray.
Fiona and Mason had been entangled for a long time. As my flight approached, I didn't plan to wait any longer. So, I placed a divorce agreement under his door and went downstairs with my luggage.
Unexpectedly, Weston blocked my path at the door.
He kicked over my suitcase and said in disgust.
"What? I say a few words to you and you throw a tantrum and try to run away from home? Huh, I don't think I know what you're thinking. Aren't you just trying to use this to get my mommy's attention? How ridiculous."
I didn’t say a word. I just bent down, calmly picked up my suitcase and started walking around him.
Then, out of nowhere, Weston grabbed the fruit knife from the table.
And lunged.
He came at me fast—knife angled right toward my chest, his face twisted with anger.
